I am rarely lonely when I am alone.
Some of my most profound moments of loneliness have been when I have been surrounded by people – not strangers or mass faceless crowds – but by people I know as friends, colleagues, family, acquaintances. Those moments when…
my heart thoughts are mismatched with the conversation of the moment
when witty, funny words bounce gleefully from others while my slow, serious tongue falters stupidly
when I am painfully aware of my ordinariness and inadequacy – I am not the charming neighbour, the vivacious sister, the favourite aunt, the super mom, the gregarious colleague, the socialite friend…
I am just me and sometimes being me feels lonely.
Oddly, I don’t fear loneliness; however, I absolutely abhor the discontentment that seems to be at the root of so many of those lonely moments. When just being me feels more like an apology I owe the world than a privilege and blessing to celebrate and cherish.
In this, I suspect that I am not alone.