Photo Cred: Joseph Barrentios
I have an aching loneliness that cripples me.
Living on Kauai with my aunt was the only time so far in my 22 years on this planet that I felt like I might actually belong somewhere. But I’m not on Kauai anymore, and through a most unfortunate series of events, I am cut off from some of the people there that I once called family, including my aunt.
I thought they were my people; I thought I would be with them for the rest of my days. I imagined growing old with them, hand-in-hand. I pictured them at my wedding and at my side when I was old and dying. They were my family, and even though I don’t talk to them anymore, and most of the time I hate them, I still love and miss their presence in my life with a stinging emotion that morphs easily into silent desperation.
The late afternoon and evening is the worst time for me each day. It’s when I am forced to slow down, and even though I try to drown myself in food and Netflix, I can’t shake the sobbing beast of Loneliness that has become my constant companion this last year and a half. It even kills my motivation to try and be with people. The loneliness feels so deep and dark that it’s impossible for anyone to cross it, and without meaning to I push people away.
I am at a loss. I am lost. Sure, I have a future in St. Augustine at Flagler College, but whenever I think of it I am soon sucked into worrying that I won’t be able to make any friends and no one will like me and I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life. I feel so out of place here in Clermont. Being here is like wearing one of those tight, hot, itchy sweaters that my parents forced me to wear on holidays when I was little. I feel like I can hardly breathe and I’m so restless that one day I wouldn’t be surprised if I burst out of my skin and floated up into the sky as smoke.
There is a part of me that wonders if I should go back to Alcoholics Anonymous. It has been about six months since I went to a meeting. But there’s also a part of me that doesn’t like certain aspects of the meetings, and that keeps me away, wondering if it would really help me or not.
I know I just said that I am lost, but in my deepest heart of hearts, in the quiet place where only one quiet Voice speaks in a language that only It and I share, I know that I’m not lost… I am on a path that my Higher Power has planned for me.
But I have lost my faith in that Higher Power, a good portion of my hope and any self-love that I may have acquired in my time in AA and at my aunt’s. It has been a long time since I truly prayed and actually talked to my Higher Power. Too long… I suppose, as my life here over the last year has seemed to fuel my emptiness and purposelessness, I gave up on the idea that God is goodness and sweetness. There’s a part of me that now believes that my life can’t get any better and I have managed to mess it up for good.
Right now, all I can do is scrape up the last ashes of the hope and innocence I used to have, and continue on as best as I can. I know that I’m just pitying myself and acting pathetic, but loneliness is such a heavy burden. Writing this has helped me immensely. I’m going to take up daily journaling again. It’s one of the few things that frees me from the inner pain, or at the very least relieves it for a little while.
I wish I had something more hopeful and happier to write about. Maybe tomorrow I will. For now, I will leave you with this thought.
Sometimes loneliness is God’s cry for time with you.