Monday, May 15, 2017

Surviving the Loneliness

Yesterday, was Mother's Day. Yesterday was part of an unexpected and unwanted long weekend. Yesterday, after church, after I had spent time with my mother, after the activities began to wind down, the loneliness came. That, drag you down into the darkness where it is impossible to breath easily and the pain threatens to overwhelm you feeling. That place where you wonder how on earth you are going to find your way and escape the sadness. That place, where you feel as if everyone has moved on and gone back to living their lives and you're still struggling to find some new kind of footing. That, was what hit me and hit me hard yesterday.
  At first, I sat here in this chair and felt the helpless, hopelessness that was swallowing me alive and felt myself giving in. I was tired, and I was frustrated. It seemed that for every one step I took forward, I was sliding three steps back. There is still so much to be done, and I keep fighting, and feeling as if I'm getting nowhere. I've said in the past, one day, one step, one breath, one prayer at a time. I try to live that, but part of me wants to be further along. Parts of me, wants it done, wants the bills paid, wants the this and that and the other thing done, so I won't have to worry about it anymore. Then I take a step and slide back there. I hit one roadblock after another. I'm walking blindly through a darkness that I never wanted to try and navigate. There are those who are still here, still offering advice, still telling me all the things I need to hear, even when I want to scream, "yeah, but...."
 I sat here, feeling the tears that won't fall, feeling the heavy weight that settles on my chest and makes me want to crawl into a corner and hide, and almost gave in. Almost.
 I forced myself to get up from this chair and left the room. I left the seeming safety of here and moved out there. I wandered the house, I moved from room to room and listened to the sounds of the house. As I passed his closed door, I listened to the sounds of my son chatting with friends online as he played some video game with them. The quiet, semi-dark house didn't help.
 I walked outside and wandered the yard. I walked up and checked on the newly planted flowers and the seeds that came up, then seemingly stopped growing. I checked on my rose bushes and the cactus that I was given. The neighbor's dog was barking, someone in the distance was talking, I could hear another neighbor's child laughing. I started back to the house.
 I could walk, I usually find my peace there, but I fear running into coyote and I want to get some form of deterrent to carry with me before I go back into the woods. I'm lonely, not stupid.
  I could try the mind numbing that watching television brings, but in this room I have to watch it online and all mine does in here is a lot of buffering. That tends to get annoying so I don't try.
 I could try to read, but my attention span right now is about that of a gnat's. That and the fact that I need better glasses for reading. One more thing to add to the list.
 I could walk down and check on the garden and make sure it doesn't need watering.
 I ended up asking my son if he wanted to go out and get something to eat. He readily agreed and got ready. We headed out the door for the Cracker Barrel. To say that place was packed is an extreme understatement. We started to go somewhere else but he changed his mind about wanting to eat. We ended up at Walmart, getting ice cream and a few other things.
 Coming back to the house, James started cooking a meal for us. James never cooks anything other than pizza but he really did a good job. Lightly friend chicken tenders, brown rice with carrots and peppers and some other something that I can't spell but tasted good. I didn't even mind cleaning up the slight mess that he made.
  There were a lot of things that I tried to do to get past the darkness, some, like calling a friend, that I didn't. There are always ways, as long as we don't allow the darkness control. The one thing that I did do, and continue to do almost constantly, is pray. I have this ongoing conversation, or I'm singing the lyrics that I know over and over in my head. I praise God, that He will get me through this. I praise Him, in that in Him, my peace, my strength, my joy, rests. I also ask others to pray for me, and I know they do. I know, this too, shall pass. Its just the times that the darkness comes, it seems that it never will.


  1. Love sends the hope that whispers in our ear to remind us that we are strong. Love gives us an open heart so that we can live more fully in the light. Love gives us permission to embrace our grief, not to bury it. Love gives us room for growth and opportunities for self-discovery.

    This is the greatest gift of love: eternal presence. It transforms death–from an ending into a continuation.
    When you’re grieving the loss of a loved one, know that when you continue loving them in their physical absence, the power of your love transforms physical loss into spiritual presence. That’s how strong love is. That’s how strong you are.