Loneliness

I was sitting in the recliner last night, watching the final season of Six Feet Under, and it suddenly struck me: I don't feel lonely anymore. At least not nearly as much as I have been for the last few months (heck, almost the last year and a half). I just feel like I've let that go (89% of it or whatever). Yesterday I read an interview online with Lorrie Moore --(http://www.believermag.com/issues/200510/?read=interview_moore) -- and she and the journalist were discussing how loneliness creeps in as a major theme in some of her work. The fact that this feeling struck me on the same day I read the interview could not be a coincidence. Some of you might be thinking, "It's all psychological--you read this interview so your mind was already on the topic"....but I think that's the easy way out. It's more like kismet, if that's the right word. Over the past year and a half I've dealt with: depression and anti-depressants, counseling, defending my thesis and graduating, moving to Portland and starting a new job, ending a long-term relationship, wondering when Mom and I get to live with/near one another again, missing my brothers, trying to find an agent for my novel, and lots of other things inside the day-to-day cracks of living. I've had many talks with God--and with myself--and there are occasions where I still get down on my knees at the bed, like the Good Ol' Catholic Boy I used to be, and I pray in more traditional fashions. Not structured prayers like the Our Father or the Hail Mary, but I still clasp my hands and close my eyes and focus on Her/Him/They/We/It. There have been a few occasions where I've just heaved and cried and said, "My trust is in you now," like that saying, "Leap--and the net will appear." I've been leaping! And, finally, I feel it's paying off. Alanis says in her song, "Thank U" (my ultimate Life Theme Song, neck-in-neck with Tori's "Silent All These Years"):

the moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
the moment I jumped off of it
was the moment I touched down

I'm feeling comfortable in my own skin again--I'm okay with being single, with being in Portland, being at my job....I know that all these little Fingers of Fate are sewing me up somethin' special & unique, and I'm learning to trust in this Sewing-God-Voice. Plus, I'm learning to be a Friend of Loneliness and to understand Her; she certainly has crept into the novel I'm writing now, bathing it in these melancholic hues that I feel are necessary to tell this specific story. So many images flood me right now: wearing my uniform to the private Catholic schools; watching my mom get strong after my dad left, how she dealt with her own loneliness; not being asked to play with the other kids on the playground; wondering if any guy will one day go, "Dude! You rock! Thank god you're single so I can snatch you up!" I was more or less single until I was 22, and I went from a three-year relationship with J to six months of way-too-much-fun to a year-and-a-half relationship with L. Funny thing is, our culture puts so much emphasis on being in a committed relationship--doesn't it seem like every show on TV deals with love triangles? Sheesh! Love triangles?!?! I wish I had that much attention! Funny thing, though, that we can often feel lonely even when we're with someone. You know the drill: they don't understand the real us; our love turns to bickering and diseased roots; they want a version of us that fits into their own expectations (and vice versa). I'd forgotten until a couple months ago how good it feels to spend time with oneself, how this isn't a scary thing at all. I go for my walks and--this is a hard one for me--I try to spend some quality time without my music playing, so the silence can just wash over me at home. I've learned to appreciate going to movies by myself, turning off the phone (but you all know I'm infamous for this one already!), wrapping myself up in a book's adventure. I think, in the end, loneliness stems from the fact that we're not totally sure of who we are or what we want. We'll always be searching for these things, adding layer upon layer to our identities, but until we're willing to ask the right questions I think we'll be stuck in self-induced ruts, where our tires keep spinning because we're attempting to drive in the wrong direction. And what direction is the right one? Maybe there are lots of trails, but we should at least be choosing one that helps, in part, to lead us to ourselves.