So lonely

Working at Anthro in the U Village has given me ample time to think during my seemingly endless commute. Last night, I got out early and had enough energy to entertain a pensive mood as I tried to prevent my car from hydroplaning into a guard rail. Today's thoughts on loneliness have been inspired by my mind's wanderings last night as I listed to The Police's "So Lonely."

I have never considered myself a lonely person. I have moments of feeling lonely, as I assume we all do, but they are few and far between--I can probably identify only two or three times in the last year that I have felt lonely.

Being alone does not bother me. In fact, nothing pleases me more than to spend time by myself. People that witness my public behavior are sometimes shocked to find that I am steadfastly introverted, and need long stretches of alone time to reenergize. When I am denied this alone time, I get quite grouchy and make snarky remarks to people I care about before I am able to stop myself. For me, alone time nurtures my soul. It gives me time to think and process without interruption.

No, I never feel lonely when I am alone. When feelings of loneliness do hit, it happens when I am with others, even surrounded by friends. The loneliest I have felt all year, incidentally, was lying in bed next to Adrian on my birthday...a supposedly intimate moment utterly devoid of companionship. Loneliness also strikes me when I am with family. Several years ago at the cabin, I felt incredibly alone despite being shut up in a small house with my mom, her boyfriend, my brother, his girlfriend, my stepbrother, and his wife. But, at the same time, I was alone as a single person in a group of couples. I don't mind spending time with couples, especially since I have been single for over five years now--it's impossible to avoid as friends get older, marry, build friend groups that primarily consist of couples, and I am quite comfortable with my status as a single woman. But it is the knowledge that everyone in the room has someone that matters more to them than I do that leaves me icily alone. I am not suggesting that this is not how it should be; of course significant others are more important than a friend, a sister, a daughter. And yet, because I do not have someone to be my counterpart, I feel alone. And I do feel a small distance grow between me and my friends and family members in relationships, however self-imposed it may be. It sounds like an ego problem--like I expect to be the center of evereyone's universe, but that's not it. I find it difficult to explain, acutally, but I do understand, and would not expect anything to be different. I just think about confronting the future, knowing that eventually, most of the people by my side will eventually partner with someone, and the distance will grow. One of my biggest fears is that Jacob, or Beth, or Becca will find themselves in relationships, getting married, and then our friend time will dwindle or disappear. No more late-night tv sessions, no more two hour phone conversations or tearful calls in the middle of the night. No more falling asleep in sheet cake while watching How I Met Your Mother in bed.

Whenever I am confronted by loneliness, it takes me by surprise, because I do not sit around and pine for a partner. However, it always concerns me a little, because I have always lived life with the attitude that I am self-sufficient and independent, and I am proud of these traits. And yet, I do rely quite heavily on my friendships and on my family. Isn't there some sort of saying about how all of life is meaningless unless you have someone to share it with? While it would satisfy me to believe that is a load of bull, moments of loneliness make me feel there is a bit of validity in it. I do not believe I need a partner to make life meaningful. However, I do want to share things that are important to me with people that care about me and understand me. I realize the two are not mutually exclusive; friends can love their parnters and love me. No shit. Which is why I have such a hard time working through loneliness. It is selfish. And irrational. Two character traits I'm not proud of.

The reason I'm pondering loneliness so deeply is that I'm curious to see how my relationship with loneliness will change in Chile. When I feel lonely, I am ashamed of myself because I equate loneliness with weakness, and strength is central to my self-identity. And yet, the times that I do feel lonely reveal a need of things that I will not have with me in Chile: companionship with someone that fully understands me, a shared history, intellectual and emotional intimacy. While I'm sure attaining some of these things is possible in Chile, building these kinds of relationships takes time, and I will not be bolstered by easy access to those people I do share these things with. I will survive, because that's what I do. But I'm interested to see--will I discover a new capacity for loneliness? Part of me hopes so, so I can move beyond this difficult period of friends partnering up as I choose not to.