I definitely cannot say that I am untouched by the occasional feeling of loneliness, but I am honestly working on it each day. After my mom died, some deep-rooted belief of mine was shattered--a belief that everyone who is in your life will continue to be in your life until the end of time. This idea may sound ludicrous, but until you lose someone, to understand seems ludicrous as well.
Because of the experience of losing someone close to me, I began to practice enjoying solitude every day. A common misconception is that solitude equals loneliness. This is not so; solitude is the act of being alone, while loneliness is what occurs when one grieves that solitude, as Deresiewicz stated in his article. Therefore, being alone does not imply that one is lonely, but only without the company of others.
This summer is probably the most solitary one I have ever spent, but it has also been one of the least lonely. When I first arrived in Walla Walla for the summer, I was worried. I was certainly not working 40-hour weeks, which my contract stated I would be (there are only so many hours of French film one can consume per day before crying "uncle!"). There were fewer people around than I had expected. The gym, climbing gym, and student center were open for very limited hours of the day. This meant I had a lot of time left on my hands to fill up each day.
Like I said, I was skeptical. I would feel great till about 6 pm, powering through my research, working out, eating lunch, and napping. Then the evening hours hit and with them the realization that I had no one with whom to share them. It was a sad realization, and resulted in a mild dose of depression and self-pity, until I remembered what I had been practicing every day.
I started making a list of things I wanted to learn to cook and/or bake. Fuck the fact that I was living alone and could only consume one quarter of what every recipe yielded, I would make it anyway. Instead of simply eating my meals, I began thoughtfully creating them. I went out and bought a harmonica at the local toy store and messed around on it for twenty minutes every night. I went out alone to the local art walk. I spent hours alone at various (ok--all three in Walla Walla) coffeeshops poring over the NYTimes crosswords (I owned Monday-Wednesday, but during the second half of the week would have to find something else to do). I chatted up baristas, strangers, and latte neighbors. I went on evening walks by myself through the residential neighborhood behind my apartment building, quietly listening to the dinner clatter of families inside their homes. I wrote.
And you know what? I survived. I head home in two days. Not that any one place is necessarily less "solitary" than another, but at home I have my family, friends, and city. But I remind myself that everything--even the family, friends, and city--is ephemeral. Beyoncé had the right idea in "Me, Myself, and I":
"Me, myself and I
That's all I got in the end
That's what I found out
And it ain't no need to cry
I took a vow that from now on
Ima be my own best friend."
This post is not intended to renounce family, friendship, or love. Quite the contrary. But I do think we need to stop texting everyone in town when we are at lunch with a friend, just to make sure we won't be alone after lunch is over. Go do stuff on your own for once. You'll be okay.
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