Solitary confinement

I think I have mentioned before that perhaps my greatest fear is of being alone.

Not alone as in not having anyone around at all.

Alone as in not having any deep relationships with people in close proximity.

Alone as in you’re at a party but aren’t talking to anyone.

Alone as in you go to the same church every week but never carry on a conversation with anyone.

Alone as in there’s no one around who can answer a simple ten-question survey about you and get more than a couple right answers.

Alone as in you don’t talk to anyone about anything meaningful. Ever.

That kind of alone.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m an introvert. I need alone time. But as most introverts, I also need deep relationships. Not many. Just one is usually enough. But deep is non-negotiable. Without that one close friend, you could drop me into a throng of 10,000, and I would still feel lonely; or equally invite me to a small party with five people, and I would still feel lonely.

It’s just the way I am, have always been.

Much of my adult life, I have been alone.  There are pockets in my past of good friendships that I still treasure. Some friendships I thought were deep but ended up disintegrating when friends found better candidates than I am. Though there have been times when those close friends have been male, usually I’ve had at one close female friend. But when I was married, although I craved women friends, at least I did have someone to talk to, someone with whom to discuss real life with, someone with whom to delve into theology or history.

Now my greatest fear is being realized. I have been the only adult in my home for almost four months, and there is no end in sight. My contact with other grown-ups is strictly limited to work and church. No one-on-one real conversations. No deep relationships. People I love and care about, and admittedly people I know genuinely care about my kids and me, yes, but deep? No. I know that takes time and effort, neither of which I have put in. And it’s really tricky with kids… and working full-time. For heaven’s sake, I’m not blaming anyone—myself or others.

But the fact remains that the loneliness closes in on me many days, many nights. And I realize I may be alone the rest of my life. I’ve never lived alone. I’ve never had my own apartment or even dorm room. I have always lived with other people, peers.

Until now.

And while I am pressing on, doing the things that need to be done, raising beautiful and kind children (by no virtue of my own!), attending church functions, going to work, and generally managing my life, I am growing just a little colder inside every day, a little darker.

Alone.