Hello Loneliness,
I’m writing to you today to make you aware of how this relationship has affected me throughout the years. Simon and Garfunkel waft (appropriately) from the speakers nestled into the shelves behind my desk…
♬ “Hello darkness my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again…♬
I was standing in my crib the first time I met you. My little hands were gripping and shaking the top rail. My “babysitting” brothers were playing basketball as I stared out the open kitchen windows. I could feel warm tears streaming down my cheeks as my cries went unheard. One thought filled my little head, ‘Where’s mommy?’
And then you showed up. Just a feeling, but new and terrifying to my confused yet unfettered mind. I was alone. With you. I stopped crying and stared blankly into nothing for the first time. That long ago memory stops right there, but I now know it was just the beginning.
Down the road and throughout the years you felt entitled to yarn your way into the fabric of my life. I became accustomed to your unwanted visitations as I grew from boy to man. My large family kept you at bay, for the most part, during the early years. When I hit my teens you began to show up almost daily. I was experimenting with weed and alcohol and they demanded isolation. I faded into the background at school and at home. My friends and family were all around me but the weed and alcohol kept me in the silent shadows. Alone. With you.
I made an easy peace with you from young adulthood into my early thirties. You encouraged me, day after day, to seek connection in neighborhood bars. Ya know, the places lonely people go? Surrounded by other lost souls, you tricked me into a false sense of security. I spent years in barrooms drowning in an alcoholic sea of laughter, hugs and shared tears. Connected to no one. On every barstool ride, smothered by people I never really knew, there I was. Alone. With you.
My son was born. I pushed you away for almost twenty years protected by the joy of watching my boy grow into a man. You had no hope of finding a space between games, practices, music lessons, performances, amusement parks and family gatherings. To name a few. The cat, however, eventually settled into the cradle and my son was off to find a healthy community of his own. My wife and I had split years earlier so, there I was. Alone. With you.
I was, after a short time, blessed with another woman to love and you all but disappeared. You were no match for romantic dinners, daily dog walks through the woods, fire pit serenades, endless conversations and the starlight in her eyes. The mighty shield of love was held against you.
Then, the pandemic hit. She and I began our tortuous journey down the rabbit hole, riding our sleigh bed, to the gates of the Bitter End. The disintegration of our minds and bodies was kept vigil over by the spirits of vodka, the demons of amphetamines and the fiends of cachexia and atrophy. In the end, after separate resurrectional stops in the ICU, I ended up in long term treatment somewhere on a ranch in Texas.
She went somewhere for sixty days and waited for me at home. That’s where you found her, isn’t it? Two months later she made friends with the bottle again. Three months after that, in an agonizing and surreal session with my counselor, I was told she was dead. God was nowhere to be found. Sitting at a picnic table, after bolting from his office, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, there I was. Alone. With you.
I left Texas for Denver to settle into a new life of my own. I rented a small furnished apartment and found a job. Colorado is beautiful but, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I began to hear your ugly whispers. I was physically sober but I had no sponsor, attended no meetings and had no one to love. I had nothing but my ear to lend.
You led me to a neighborhood bar. Before I knew it I was riding a barstool surrounded by a new group of lost souls. The delusion of being connected was doing its best but I knew in my heart that there I was again. Alone. With you.
This time, as I stared blankly into nothing, the same way I did in that crib so many years ago, I made a decision. I stood up, touched by grace, an epiphany or both and walked away from the mirage of community that bars afforded me. My mind felt a final piece of a puzzle being pushed into place. Was I free from you? That was yet to be determined but something was pushing me forward.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and punched in a number I almost called twice before. A week later I was at a recovery center in Denver. Shortly thereafter, I moved to Florida to continue treatment. So here we are.
I have news for you, Loneliness. I finally have the experiences, education, intuition and the love of family, friends and community to contend with you. I have stumbled through multiple rehabs, sunk into numerous relapses and have been incalculably traumatized by Macie’s death. You are an obvious conspirator and the thief of a love beyond words. When I was informed of her death I told you God was nowhere. But I am no longer alone. He was always with me. Within me. Somehow, I had forgotten what Luke told me long ago. (17:21)
Everything from that moment in the crib to this moment, as my fingers tap the keyboard, was necessary. You see, all of life’s lessons carried me to this point in time. In this last treatment center humility has taken my hand and placed it where God has been my entire life. It placed my hand on my heart. You successfully averted my eyes for years but you’re finished. My freedom from you is no longer yet to be determined. Never again will I be alone. With you.
I can now build a true community of connectedness with people you most likely used to know. I no longer need slippery substances to fill the void. If you choose to show up again I may entertain you for a moment. But that’s for me. You will soon be dismissed as I tune into my conscious contact with God. With me always. As I bring this letter to a close, I would like to thank you. You see, for reasons my mind can’t understand, but somehow my heart understands, you were always part of God’s plan. Your lack of response will be well understood.
Never yours,
JTW
