Thursday, April 3, 2014

And then there was one

For the past week I've been sick with the dreaded strep throat.  Now before you close your browser so you don't get infected, I'm on meds and am no longer contagious (or am I?).  Streppy and I have a rich history together that spans back to my early childhood years.  When I was about six years old, she visited me for the first time and left a distinct memory in my impressionable mind...avoid her at ALL COST.  But, as luck would have it, she has continued visiting me. Every. Single. Year. since I was six.  Sometimes she even visits twice a year.  And before you get preachy on me about how I just need to wash my hands, not touch my face, and stop making out with anything that moves, let me just inform you that I was a consistent germaphobe (yup, really) all through my teenage years up until I served a two-year Mormon mission, at which point all of my OCD ways were demolished one-by-one.  Thankfully this post isn't about strep throat completely, so relax.

The reason I'm bringing up being sick is because my annually visiting "friend" taught me a new lesson this time:  I'm actually capable of feeling alone.  Don't worry, this isn't a sob story, that's not my style.  The reason why this new feeling is worth mentioning is because I can't pinpoint a time when I've actually felt lonely before.  And what's exciting about actually acknowledging some loneliness, is that it's yet another step in "growing up".

Before you start think I'm some kind of sociopath, let me explain.  My personality type has always been the "comforter" more than the "comforted".  And I have zero qualms with that, I'm glad that's my natural inclination. And I've always been very comfortable being alone.  I'm the guy who goes to movies alone, or sits in coffee shops for hours reading, or the guy that's hiking alone and is slightly too chipper in his greeting to you.  I get it, I don't sit next to people who are alone in movie theaters either, they are usually creepers.  But there's something about being sick and living alone that makes thoughts like, "If my strep throat progresses into a collapsed lung and I die in my sleep, no one will even notice I'm missing for at least three days."  Don't act like you've never thought you had a terminal illness even though it was just a cold.

About a year ago I was living on a remote tropical island called Palau.  The population was minuscule, the island was tiny, contact with friends at home was limited, but I had never been happier.  You'd think this would've been the perfect breeding ground for loneliness, isolation, etc., and it was for some, but because I had moved out there with my best friend who needed my support, I never felt the sting of those feelings.  I think when you're providing the comfort, it's easy to forget you might have similar feelings too buried somewhere.

Fast-forward to today, and I'm living in a new city without any close friends, and only myself to focus on.  When you don't have someone to take care of, you finally have to start taking care of yourself, which is sometimes tougher than we want to admit.  Over the past months, since moving to the desert, I've had ample time to do some long overdue self-reflection, and I've realized that this guy has got a lot of growing to do still, and this time separated from my typical M.O. will be unquestionably valuable to myself and future relationships. While I'm still the guy who enjoys his alone time, my dear Streppy has reminded me of the importance of friends and where to place your value in life.

4 comments:

  1. You are a pretty exceptional writer, I really enjoyed this post. Great reminder! It's easy to take great friends and friendships for granted. My best friend recently moved away and it's been harder than id like to admit. Feeling alone can be a wonderful and terrible thing all at once.

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  2. It is a lot tougher to look inward than I would care to admit. My husband had been dealing really with some health issues, which have been accompanied by anxiety, which in turn have forced him to really look inward and discover things about himself. Listening to him talk about it, I keep thinking that I am so glad that I don't have time between diaper changes and toddler peacemaking to look too deeply at myself. (I do realize that it is important though. It is just so hard! It is why I vastly preferred my sociology classes to my psychology cases in college.)

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  3. I hate living alone. I despise it. I loathe it with every fiber of my being. And yet... I've come to the conclusion that everyone SHOULD live alone for a time.

    I didn't live by myself until I was about 25. I went directly from living with my parents at 17 to living with a boy, never living on my own. Things fell apart with the boy (as teenage romances often do in your 20’s), I lost most of my friends over it, and I found myself needing an apartment.

    Those first few weeks alone were dreadful, and not just because I was single again.
    It’s scary to think that something could happen to you, and no one would be there to call for help. It’s hard not to have someone to talk to when you've had a terrible day. And it feels even worse when you’re cooped up at home, sick as a dog.

    However… I learned more about myself in that year or so than I had in the previous decade. I realized that I was the one who always left the cupboard doors open, and I was the one who never brought in the mail. I picked up new hobbies, which led to new friends. I learned who I was at that time and I stopped holding on to a picture of who I was a decade ago, no longer letting that define me.

    I still hate living alone and have gone back to having a roommate. But I don’t regret those 18 months. Loneliness was something I had to feel in order to grow up. Loneliness was necessary for me to realize who I am, apart from others. I think everyone deserves to know that.

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