Island
Lonely gave me strength. I did not like it at first. But I learned over time lonely was on my side. It buckled me with my parents’ divorce over and over when I was 11. It served me well in my own divorce decades later. In my parents’ divorce I had no say. My parents had everything worked out as to who took what down to the last picture on the wall before they told me our family would be no more. Lonely started in childhood and I found it or choose it in my adult life at times. I believe now lonely and I chose one another often. In my marriage, I found her there, Lonely. An old safe friend. She gave me strength to speak up years later when divorce was the next move. I knew choosing to be alone was better than lonely in a marriage. There was no room for lonely and another human being besides me.
I taught myself that lonely was strong. Lonely wasn’t complaining. Lonely wasn’t being a burden. Lonely didn’t ask for accountability from another. Lonely let me rebel quietly. And Lonely began to be a part of me. Lonely didn’t ask me to take risks, or set myself up for rejection. And Lonely had my back. Whatever I told my parents, then my spouse, then friends was true. I was independent. I was strong. Lonely and I were stronger together. We did not believe in taking risks. Lonely and I decided a long time ago vulnerability was off the table. So was speaking up first. Once in a while I would break this bond and speak up. I often raced back to Lonely.
I did not know I could lean in and still be all those things. I am not sure I still do for I have been called out lovingly over the past few years by my closest friends and my partner. I have an island that I quickly sail to emotionally. It allows me to have a sea of water between me and being vulnerable. Between me and asking for help. The tides rise quickly if I dare to ask for help and do not get a response I expect or want.
I have been asked why it is so easy for me to shut down or shut others out and yet live life from this lonely island. My answer now. My island was safe. It was freedom from feeling or expecting or asking. It was my constant. The place I still try to go to emotionally when I think the world won’t understand me or when I’m afraid to ask for help. I go there when the trauma of being dismissed by others comes up. Make no mistake, dismissed feels like trauma. I have felt it for years. My parents’ divorce, my father’s passing, my own divorce. I only need a flicker or a taste of the dismissive and I head out to the high seas. I realize ironically my island allows me to dismiss others. Or not believe. In them. In our connections. In our relationships. Lonely island is safe and yet selfish.
Diving deeper lately asking myself why I feel the need to sail away at a moments notice. The answer I found is that my island was home to me. My island is where I go when I crave Lonely. Not alone. But Lonely. Lonely somehow came to mean I was being good. I was not complaining. Lonely means I am not creating waves or asking anything of another. I am not too much with Lonely. I am also just enough for Lonely.
Lonely island has been my haven in major life events. The saddest ones for me. My parents’ divorce where I initially learned to make lonely feel okay. My Father’s death which I still think I will always find lonely my solace and friend. And then my own divorce which I thought would free me from the lonely I felt for so many years. Please know that lonely and alone are very different to me. I CRAVE alone time. I HIDE behind Lonely. I am coming to terms with this. I don’t believe we should have to barter with our comfort. Yet the Lonely is comfort. She is an old friend.
Originally written January 2018
