I never understood what people meant when they said that are “different kinds of lonely”. A time ago, I was the loneliest I had ever been. Not only did I not have anybody, I directly had people telling me did not want me and diminishing my worth to something I knew it was not. In some ways, that kind of loneliness was simpler. Then, I could actively feel sorry for myself. I used that loneliness to throw myself into other endeavors knowing that it did not make a difference; that, no matter what, I could not make someone care or think about me and that only I could construct my own happiness.
Nowadays, I sometimes wonder how I was able to deal with being so alone. Rather than using it as an excuse, I found ways to transform that feeling of inadequacy into one of appreciation. While it felt like I did not have many friends to turn to, it somehow made me more thankful for the few that I did have, as well as my family and other special things in my life. I spent lots of time eating cheesecake with old friends, walking on the beach with those who were moving away, and playing late-night chess with my dad on a small river cruise floating in the middle of still water. Although I was the most alone I had arguably ever been, I was not the most lonely.
To amend a fear of loneliness, I learned a couple of important lessons from the most bright social butterfly I know: my mother. She told me that it is important to take the best from people and leave behind the worst. She said, at the end of the day, you can be friends with everyone while still never emotionally investing in any one person — until they extend the same courtesy to you. Only a few special people will come into your life that will warrant that privilege. Nonetheless, it can be incredibly difficult to reserve yourself when it often feels that the amount you put into a relationship is directly proportional to what you receive back. So, I made some mistakes. To this day, I am still the girl that infuses immense effort into the relationships she cares about, only to be disappointed, and water down her personality for someone to come along and validate a dilute character.
Overall, I have come to the conclusion that this is a different kind of loneliness. It is a loneliness that seeps between the cracks of courageous coals, always lingering in the air like carbon monoxide circling oxygen. It is the kind of loneliness that emerges when we are surrounded by people, and yet, still feel like there is no one there. It is almost harder to deal with this kind of loneliness. It is harder to fight for a vacant spot in someone’s mind when you are nearly sure they are all occupied. It is the feeling that millions of people are experiencing every day: being lonely, but not alone.
Something I felt embarrassed about for a long time was my innate need to be liked. I showed up at people’s front doors with hot platters of food, offered to pay for others when we went out, and handed out notes I spent time and effort on — all in an effort to be liked. I genuinely thought that if I did not do these things, I would have no friends, which often made me resentful and angry. I felt pathetic that every fulfilled moment or relationship felt conditional. I looked at unanswered texts and canceled plans as failures and proof that I was not trying hard enough.
In my opinion, the summer months are some of the most lonely. We go from being surrounded by others day after day to suddenly being isolated. However, it is also a prime opportunity for self-reflection. Recently, through reading and journaling, I have come to a vital realization. As one of my favorite authors, Brianna Wiest, says, “Our internal guidance systems whisper until they scream… your need to feel validated is valid. Your need to feel the presence of another person is valid. Your need to feel wanted is valid”. These three clauses hold entirely different meanings. Sometimes, loneliness means the physical lack of another person. Sometimes, it means a lack of security and worth. Sometimes, it does not call for an extensive friend circle, but simply for one person to say: I’m here, I care.
This post is not meant to be bleak or contemptuous. In fact, it is meant to dismantle the stigma around being lonely. Everyone is lonely some of the time, and it is important to recognize this in order to discover our unmet needs. It is a concept I still need to work on. Loneliness is not the condition of being alone, it is the feeling of having no solid foundation to depend on. Truthfully, no matter how I may feel, I know that my loneliness is transient. Even when I am disappointed, I understand that if I dig deep enough, my foundation is deep-rooted. At the core, we are all busy, but we make time for the things and people that matter. It is the best friend that I called crying and who allowed me to come over to eat ice cream and watch our favorite movie. It is the baby grand piano I sit down at after coming home from the party no one noticed I left. And, it is this blog, where I can come to voice my thoughts knowing that the people it is meant for will read it.
Today I overheard a girl describing herself as an “introverted extrovert”. I smiled to myself because this is exactly how I defined myself for many years, that is, before realizing its universality. As human beings, we all enjoy being alone without the critical or watchful eye of any one person. Still, at the end of the day, every introvert and loner craves human connection and validation. It’s okay, not shameful or wrong, but human. Today, I am here to tell you simply that I am here and that I care. No matter who you are, someone out there is thinking about you. It may not be who you want or expect, but you are wanted. The loneliness you feel is temporary because one day, that someone will have the courage to tell you that you matter to them, and until then, you must matter to you, finding comfort in being alone but not lonely.
Happy Living
“It is easy to stand in the crowd but it takes courage to stand alone” -Mahatma Gandhi
chocolate and politics 