February 22, 2013 – There is something lonely about bare trees waiting for fair weather to bloom again. The quiet dormancy of winter sometimes seems sad, but it’s also filled with expectations of the seasons to come.
Or maybe it’s just that things that can’t really be called sad, just make me sad sometimes, like right now. I am sick right now, nothing earth-shattering, just a really nasty cold that has me coughing so badly that I can’t sleep at night and the sleeplessness and physically draining nature of it aren’t helping me get over it quickly. I came down with it later in the day Monday, and I haven’t been out of the apartment since – aside from an emergency trip to the vet to get cat food this afternoon. My body feels beaten, my sides hurt, my throat is raw, my stomach feels as if it has been pummelled, and my back has been so badly wrecked from the coughing that I need a chiropractic adjustment desperately. Yesterday was three months to the day that Mom passed away. I miss her every day. I particularly miss her on the weekends. Partly because I usually have more time to think about personal things then, mostly because we used to talk on Sunday mornings. Yesterday was also my wedding anniversary. I was alone yesterday, I’ve been alone all week, and will be for another. All of that at once makes me feel very sad, a bit depressed, a touch forgotten and insignificant, somewhat wounded and a little bit angry, but mostly it just makes me hurt inside and out.
Alone can be an adjective or an adverb. It is a state of being without other people. Alone isn’t a bad thing, the enjoyment of being alone is solitude. Solitude is being present, being alive, it is completeness, it is enough. Alone is positive, it is fulfilling because you are with yourself, happily. It is peaceful and content. Being alone is peaceful silence. Solitude is glory.
To be lonely is another matter. Lonely implies an emotion that alone does not. Loneliness is when you are unhappy to be alone, or to feel alone when in a group. It is a lacking, it is absence, it is a feeling of missing something, it is incompleteness. Loneliness is a void, it is a negative place filled with longing and dissatisfaction, it is a state of constantly seeking fulfillment elsewhere. Being lonely is ear-shattering silence. Loneliness is painful. Loneliness hurts.
Alone is having the time and space to dance to that song on the stereo with complete abandon and knowledge that no one is watching, thankfully!
Loneliness is wishing you had someone to share the dance with.
Solitude is sitting on that bench by the seashore, taking in the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks on shore, watching the beauty of the gulls slipstreaming through the air, seeing the crabs scurry through the sand before the next wash of water rolls over them.
Loneliness is turning and realizing you have no one to share this feeling with.
Alone is when you don’t really need another person to talk to because you are happy in the confines of your own thoughts. Lonely are those moments when you are surrounded by people, but you feel unable to speak or relate.
Lonely is being awake at three in the morning, unable to sleep and in need of comfort, but with no one available or awake to provide reassurance.
Being alone can be healthy. Being lonely isn’t.
Solitude affords you the opportunity to immerse yourself in a good book, to create, to breathe.
Loneliness can lead to damaged spirits, depression. It has been linked to reduced immune function and increased illness.
We are all alone sometimes, it’s a fact of life, alone can bring calm. Sometimes it’s good to be alone, it’s rarely good to be lonely.
Sometimes you can look at people in a crowd and identify who is alone and who is lonely. The person who is alone is confident, smiling, maybe thoughtfully introspective, or happily reading a book while drinking a coffee, staring off into the distance with a hint of a smile. The lonely person looks more pensive, perhaps uncomfortable, the body language may be pulling away from a surrounding group rather than leaning into it.
We live in an age where we are encouraged to be independent, individualistic, self reliant. These are wonderful traits, but they come at a cost because they can lead to fewer real connections with other people. Twitter, Facebook, Email – they don’t fill the void, they just mask it by giving us an illusion of companionship.
“I can do it myself!”
That’s great, but people like to help and if we don’t let them then we effectively push them away. I’m famous for not accepting help. Occasionally it’s been pointed out to me “Just ask, would you?” Sometimes asking is hard. Re-reading that reminds me just how similar I am in personality to my mother.
Some people think they are afraid to be alone, but I imagine the reality is that they are afraid of being lonely. There is a big difference. Being alone does not mean being lonely, and being lonely does not always come with being alone. They can be mutually exclusive, but they can also go together. One can certainly be very lonely when one is alone.
Solitude is a choice, loneliness isn’t.
We all go through stages of loneliness, but not everyone is comfortable being alone. I’ve always sought solitude at different stages through my life, I enjoy periods of alone time, time to reflect on who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. I’ve known those who were terrified of being alone. Unless they were with people, talking all the time – in person or on the phone, they were terribly unhappy, insecure. I’ve never found it a frightening thing. I used to take the kayak and head out to the West Coast by myself when I wanted some solitude, these days I like taking long solitary motorcycle rides instead. The mechanism changes, the scenery changes, but it’s just an exchange of one solitary activity for another. Being alone does not frighten me. I love being with others, but I am also comfortable being alone with myself as company.
Right now however, I am feeling lonely and I can’t do a damned thing about it because I’m sick, my throat aches, so I can’t go out to fight my feelings, I can’t even have a phone conversation with anyone because it hurts to talk, not that I have much of a voice after four solid days and nights of coughing (I have a sensitivity to the DM in cough suppressants so can’t take them, and non-DM products don’t stop the spasms, cough drops don’t even work).
Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself at the moment, yes I am wallowing, I feel too beat up to do anything else, the tree isn’t the only thing shedding some tears.
Honestly, I’m not looking for sympathy, writing just gets it out of my system.
Tomorrow will be better I’m sure.
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”- Albert Einstein
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