Some days it is a minute feeling, one that doesn’t last long enough for us to become familiar with one another. Other days, I know it like the back of my hand. It encapsulates my entire atmosphere, almost swallowing my very existence whole.
I feel it most when I place my head on my pillow after a long day; when I finally have time to reconcile what my life is, who I am, what I have become, who I have chosen to associate with. It is in the dead silence of my pitch-black bedroom that I begin to recognize the face of loneliness. It is there that I begin to understand this common visitor.
It often becomes a hard emotion to understand. It clothes itself with solemn music in an effort to belittle the toll it takes on me. This creature paints itself with lies, false realities, and incorrect assumptions about the truth of life beyond the curtains of fear.
Sometimes it holds my tongue, handcuffs my wrists, and cements my feet to the floor. The creature treks through the healed parts of my brain, reopening the months-old scars. It plays like a broken record, repeating the weak individuals who left and the others who seemed to fade from my view. It doesn’t let a single open spot within my circle go unnoticed -- it becomes empathetically aware of every ounce of hurt.
It makes my breathing more difficult, my ability to focus much more challenging. Some days it is small -- minute -- but today is a day where I feel as if it is swallowing me whole.
Mascara colored my cheeks while I sat on the phone with my mom. “I just feel so alone,” fell stiffly off of my lips into the phone, and mom’s gentle voice calmly stated “ I know you do,” It is hard continuing to repeat these same burdens to my mom because I never want it to seem disingenuous. Truthfully, I am not alone. Hypothetically, it feels otherwise. Everyone keeps telling me that this season will pass, but it just feels like my new reality.
However, the rains of this storm will not drown out my plea for the Savior. If I have learned anything at all during this time of my life, it is the fact that running in the opposite direction of Christ will only make this pain worse. Calling out for help isn’t easy, but what I have found is that I will not have to sob from a weary heart if I just continue to pursue this greater majesty ahead of me -- if I just hold strong to the steadfastness of the Lord.
Lamentations 3 is a perfect representation of my heart during this season. Verses 14 through 17 say the following:
I have become the laughingstock of all peoples,
the object of their taunts all day long.
15 He has filled me with bitterness;
he has sated me with wormwood.
16 He has made my teeth grind on gravel,
and made me cower in ashes;
17 my soul is bereft of peace;
I have forgotten what happiness is;
I feel like a laughingstock. I have felt bitter for a long time. There are moments I feel as if I have forgotten what happiness is. Yet, Jeremiah counters this depression driven series of thoughts by saying in verse 21 through 25:
“But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
22 The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
25 The LORD is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.”
As a Christian, a lot of our lives can feel like continually waiting. I wait to get better. I wait to be healed. I wait to have friends. I wait to understand. But basking in the impatience of my human personality will not change the righteous timing of Christ. I am learning to see how the Lord can use me through this season rather than yearning for a healed version of this time in my life.
My brother has always told me that it is okay to want answers, that it is okay to ache for understanding, but what is not okay is questioning who God is or what He is doing. That reveals a lack of faith and trust in the promises we see through Scripture and the faith of knowing that God’s will is going to be done regardless of what we do.
Loneliness tends to be a choice for me, whether it be consciously or subconsciously. Building the wall, burning the ties I have with people is always so much easier than explaining my thought process. I’m tired of letting people in because I’m tired of having my feelings hurt. I’m tired of never being included, feeling unwanted, and being by myself. But, there is something beautiful about this season.
Jesus would often retreat away to be alone and pray to God. He spent his last hours before crucifixion alone. He went to the Samaritan woman alone. He wandered through the desert alone. He died, rose again, and became our eternal salvation alone. And while He was physically alone, spiritually and emotionally He was surrounded by all of Heaven, and by the Most High God.
I am noticing that my journey in becoming more intimate with Christ is what will ultimately dwindle this false reality of loneliness. Sure, physically I don’t have many friends and I don’t talk to many people. But emotionally, spiritually: I have the entirety of Heaven on my side, I have the Spirit of the Living God housed within my heart, I have the promise of grace, mercy, love, and trust. I have hope in who Jesus was, is, and always will be.
It is easy to feel like it is swallowing me whole if I choose to let it. Life is just a series of choices we make and we have to be aware of what we know to be right and wrong. I didn’t choose to be depressed, but I did choose to run from Christ. I didn’t choose to be depressed, but I did choose to wallow in present emotions. I didn’t choose to be depressed, but I can choose what to do with this battle of my life.
Some days it is a minute feeling, one that doesn’t last long enough for us to become familiar with one another. Other days, I know it like the back of my hand. It encapsulates my entire atmosphere, almost swallowing my very existence whole. Today it only swallowed me partly, swiftly realizing the grit and willpower I have on my side. I don’t feel nearly as familiar with it as I was thinking I would. His mercies proved to be new in the midst of my mourning.
“I called out from the depths of this pit, LORD, and you heard my cry for help. You came near when I called on you saying: “Do not fear!” You have taken up my cause, O Lord, you have redeemed my life.”
- Emma