Over the weekend I started another lap around the sun, fresh and new. I had those people I love most close to me and heard from many friends and family members by text, Facebook message, WhatsApp and even an actual phone call right on time when I was born 51 years ago.
The outpouring of affection wasn’t lost on me. I appreciated it very much. And yet still, despite this outpouring of affection I feel very much isolated and alone. It’s not a bad place to be necessarily, but it does get old. I live in a large house by any standards, that’s not a flex of any sort, but just a fact. When my one kiddo who’s still around is with me, there are 3 souls if you count my dog in the house and it’s still empty and quiet. I spend my days alone in silence, if I go for a walk or run I may listen to music, but I’m stuck in this place between my ears to ruminate about whatever pops in my head.
The rumination isn’t always negative, sometimes I can be very present in the moment and not think, as weird as that may sound, being present in the moment helps, focused on breathing, the weather, the sound of the birds, etc…. In the end, when my walk/run is done, I walk up my front steps, back into my too big for me house and sit alone. In front of a screen or book eventually and always alone.
I’m so tired of this feeling of isolation. Maybe it’s COVID that’s exacerbated the isolation. We can’t see facial features behind our masks, we can’t touch, hug, or shake hands. As a society we’ve taken to moving like icebergs in a store, keeping distance, being mindful and respectful of space so as to keep each other safe. This distance though, has a downside. As hard as it is for me to characterize something as negative, the distance increases isolation. The isolation comes and it feels like it’s always fully present. There are spurts where it doesn’t feel that way and I try to abide in those times whenever I can. But it always comes back.
Maybe I need a new hobby, it’s getting cooler outside and sporting clays will come back into play again. My yard needs working on if I can find the mechanical tools to plug and seed in the fall. There are certainly things to do and things that need doing. I just wish they didn’t always only get done by me and only me. Perhaps I need to be satisfied internally by a job well done and not feel the need to share or connect with someone else. Maybe that need to connect is what drives my silly habit of sharing things I’ve cooked. Again – who knows if it’s bad or good – it just is.
So once again, I’ve written from the hip, of how I’m feeling, this time isolated and alone. Despite those feelings, I am aware of how fortunate I really am. I am loved, cared for and respected. By any and all measures I am rich in good fortune and love. I just wish I didn’t feel so alone.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to try to be someone’s rock, a port in the storm. A quiet and open mind and ear to listen and console. I’ll try to be kind to myself as I expect others to be of themselves. I’ll stay a little salty because it brings out the sweet.