Difficult, difficult, difficult. It has always been so difficult for me to acknowledge and embrace the part of myself that can suddenly be overcome by loneliness, whether I am alone or not. The person who, in the midst of a room full of people, many of whom she knows, will become increasingly aware in the midst of that room that she feels invisible, unnoticed, passed over.
Perhaps it has to do with who I am and how I see myself. I am the eldest, and I have always wanted to be liked, to make my parents and those I admired proud of me. I have always wanted to be someone that other people knew and that folks liked to be around, and I think it would be fair to say that I have coveted the approval of others throughout my life. But I also know that I like to forget the part of me that was so lonely as a child–I didn’t have a lot of friends, and I often was picked on in school (I was a bit of a nerd, and before that, I liked “little kid” games like make-believe well into middle school, and before that, well, I was sort of a tomboy). The friends I had were closely held, and often not very many at any given time. As I got older, I had more “friends,” but almost all of them were not the sort I shared your life with–more the kind that I ate my lunch and took my classes next to. We were more like friends by geography than choice.
I wonder if that hasn’t persisted to some extent into my adulthood. Sure, my sister commented in college that I seemed to know everyone, but I rarely felt as though anyone knew me. MOre often, I felt like folks knew my name, and knew what I did, but didn’t really share my life. Same with seminary–I was a decent schmoozer, but I left seminary really with one good friend, and I didn’t meet her in school at all.
All of this is prelude to the fact that I am struggling these days with the profound gulf that I will sometimes find myself trapped in. I know I can’t be alone in this, but I can’t help but feel alone in the midst of it. My job is one where being extroverted and knowing everyone is good, but one drawback is often that you know a little bit of everyone, and they know less of you. And given my education I sometimes find myself struggling to analyze my experience, but I am not sure that is the best antidote either… is it really going to help me, for example, to try to try to diagnose my loneliness, or is that just another way to avoid acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, this is a part of who I am? Maybe I would be better off just sitting in it and feeling it, rather than hiding it away.
I do have to say though, I find it amusing that today I was feeling lonely in, of all places, a church in which the mission statement could probably decently be described as welcoming all people in so that loneliness diminishes and community increases. And here I am feeling like the odd man out. I have my reasons, I suppose, but I did find it to be unexpected territory.
If someone brought this problem to me, I suppose I might be tempted to wonder, “Where is God working in this,” or “what lesson might we learn,” or maybe something more clever that connects the spiritual to the emotional. And I do believe they are connected somehow–I almost never worship myself, these days, and I find it interesting that I feel so lonely when I do. But I gotta be honest, I don’t feel like answering the questions right now. If I could be blunt, I just want to feel less like the island I experienced today. I want to be a part of things, and for others to want me to be a part of their lives, rather than just a number or a person who can give them something.