Choosing Differently

The sunlight is waning in the evening sky, and I'm standing in bare feet on my back deck while the cool mountain breeze blows my hair around and gives me goosebumps. It's only 7:00 but everyone is already in bed, including Josh, and although I know he needs sleep I'm still working at not being disgruntled over being left lonely. I watch the leaves on the trees flutter wildly, bathed in the golden light of sunset. And for once, in an uncharacteristic bout of emotional intelligence in the present moment, I consciously acknowledge the loneliness that I feel.  

Loneliness is a feeling I hide from. I run for cover so quickly that I rarely take the time to name it, let alone ruminate on the reality of it. Tonight I chose differently.

I came back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind me. The barrier instantaneously shut out the background noise of the wind in the trees, and I was enveloped in a silence that seemed to magnify my aloneness. I looked at the bookshelves heavy with books and considered reading; the television remotes lay haphazardly in a recliner offering escape into entertainment. Instead of groping for those quick fixes, I stood in the middle of the living room, analyzing myself in a way that was quite unusual.

When I'm lonely, I read novels or watch TV shows with my favorite ensemble casts because they mimic the sense of community that I'm hungry for, I said to myself. For once, it was an unappealing prospect. Perhaps because when you're psychoanalyzing yourself, it's easier to see the unhealthy coping mechanisms for the flimsy things they are. This struggle with loneliness is decades old. I briefly wonder if my deep avoidance of loneliness has to do with the sudden loss of a sibling as a young girl. Nevertheless, we moved back to Asheville in large part because of community. You know what to do. In an uncharacteristic bout of willpower, I made an atypical choice.

Shoving the remotes aside, I picked up my phone and sent a text. What are you doing tonight?

That simple message led to hours of conversation on the front porch of a dear friend... woman to woman and heart to heart... wrapped in a hoodie and a blanket to keep warm as darkness descended and the air turned cold. Quiet tears and laughter under globe string lights, loneliness melting away in the warmth of friendship. When I finally drove away to go back home to my house full of sleeping beauties, my heart was full and bright.

It's so easy to pull away when we desperately want to hide from whatever that is that sets off the "ick" alarm inside of us (for me, loneliness). It's so much better to lean in and reach out for connection. That is the stuff our human hearts were made for. So glad I was invited to sit on a front porch tonight. So glad I made a different choice.