Lonely
A disclaimer before you read my post. I did not write this looking for affirmation, or support, or encouragement. If you want to share how you deal with this issue, I would love to hear it, but you cannot be the solution. Despite my many problems, I am okay. You don’t have to worry about me. I am posting these thoughts because I wrote something like this in my journal last week, and after thinking about it, I thought I should share my thoughts, feelings, and struggles openly. God is bringing this to the forefront of my life, and I want others to share in what does, or does not, happen. I do this to let those who know me learn more about me, and also for those who struggle with the same thing, in hopes they can find some comfort in my words. This problem, I’ve found, is nearly universal, but that doesn’t make it any less personal.
I had been in Doha little more than an hour before my driver dropped Chris off at his apartment, and showed me to my own. I walked into my new apartment for the first time, and the guy who runs the apartment showed me around the place quickly before he left. As soon as he did, I felt incredibly lonely. It was dead silent. It is never dead silent in the States, at least not where I live. The last time I was in Qatar I felt oppressively isolated, less because of the place and more because of how my life was in general. The ghost of Qatar past returned and brought back some of the old emotions. I decided my first task should be to get my laptop set up so I could play some music so I wouldn’t feel quite so bad. It’s funny how a little noise helps one feel less lonely.
Lonely. I’ve felt a lot of that this past year and a half. I’ve felt a lot of that my whole life, really. God has been showing me quite a bit lately how hard of a time I really have receiving love from others. It doesn’t seem to matter if it is from God, from my friends, from my family. I don’t quite know why this is. I know I’ve had a hard time at it my entire life - my mother loves to tell a story about the time, when I was only six or so, I asked her how she could love me. I just didn’t get it. I guess I must still not really get it.
The funny thing is I know people really do love me. And not just a few people, either. I know my whole family loves me, and I know how rare and incredible a thing that is. I know dozens of people who love me; they prove it time and time again. Off the top of my head, I can think of dozens of people and hundreds of times they’ve shown how much they care about and appreciate me. Most importantly, I know God loves me. In fact, I would say I have experienced God’s love more strongly than most people, even most devoted Christians, ever do. It’s not uncommon for me to be almost giddy with his love. And I know what it is to love other people very strongly, very freely and very gladly, so I know what it is like for others who think and feel love for me. I know I have felt what it is to be loved, to be loved completely, without reservation even while being known completely. I have known deep and enduring friendships, many of them, which I would not have thought possible several years ago. I have known and felt incredible intimacy.
But it never sticks. Last Monday, I went to my small group to find they were throwing a little going-away part for me. I’m only gone a month, but they went out of their way to get some foods I liked, and they laid their hands on me to pray and send me off. I had a wonderful time with them, and I felt so appreciated the whole time. I’ve never felt so close to these people as I did then. But by the time I was half-way home, I felt more lonely than I had before I went. This sort of thing is not uncommon to me; it doesn’t happen every day, or every week, but often. I don’t get it. I don’t know why I have to remind myself I am loved; why I have to make myself feel it again and again. I know it - I never doubt it for a second. But I can’t hold on to the feeling, and soon I feel alone again, as though I had been forgotten. I feel abandoned. It’s ridiculous, but knowing that hasn’t stopped it yet. It feels like I’m trying to hold water in my hands, but I can’t keep my fingers closed. It all keeps leaking out.
God has been bringing this up quite a bit over the last couple months. I’ve heard it from my counselor, from books I’m reading, and from my own observations. This is a more serious problem than I’ve ever fully realized, and I need to do something about it. Like every other person who has ever lived, I need to feel loved if I am going to really live the abundant life God wants me to live. It’s not enough to know it - it must be felt, be believed, as well.
This problem may well be the most widespread problem of the 21st century, but that doesn’t really change it for me. I have to admit, it is a bit awkward to face it openly like this. I don’t like thinking about it much because it makes me feel like I’m being very needy, very insecure. Perhaps I am, but I don’t feel ashamed over it. Not tonight, anyway.
I’m still not sure what to do about it, though. It seems so unnatural to try to force myself into feeling love, but what else can I do? I try to remember things people have done for me, like what my small group did. That helps, but doesn’t always last much longer than the original experience did. I talk with God, and I receive him, and lately that has done more than anything else. But sometimes, like that first night, I still feel sharply lonely. I feel isolated.
It needs to end. It needs to change. I don’t know how that’s going to happen, but I believe God’s going to show me.
Perzik