Lonely Places, by Lewis

I don't know where to begin writing about the subject of “lonely places" without first distinguishing them from "places of solitude".  There's a distinct difference.  People often deliberately seek out places of solitude for purposes of restoration, deliberation, and soul-searching.  They are places of respite and retrospection.  They are for clearing the mind of clutter, connecting with feelings--sometimes painful--that cry out for exploration.  They are like a shower for the soul.

In contrast, "lonely places" are more like a pity-party for the poor-in-spirit.  In the real world, there are places where solitude-seekers can be alone.  They offer peace and quiet and are a place to get one's head together and sort things out.  They are far from being "lonely places" unless made to be so by the individual occupying them.  In this entire vast and endlessly varied world, there is not a single space that is inherently "lonely", for "loneliness" is not a physical condition but a state of mind.  If I so desired, I could be lonely on a crowded city bus or at a fair or concert. 

Sometimes, feeling lonely can feel safer than reaching out to someone.  Loneliness is a trust issue.  If I trust that others can respond to pain with love, there is no need to be lonely.  I suspect that people sometimes get stuck in loneliness because they are afraid of risking rejection should they attempt to make some kind of human connection.  If one is so needy that they scare people away for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, they might well feel that they have been rejected.  The solution to this dilemma is to break out of the loneliness sooner rather than later.  One way to do that is not to pout but to pucker, not to slump or slink but to sidle up to someone.

When Laurin died in late 2012, I lost my constant companion and lover.  The pain was almost unbearable.  I could have withdrawn into self-pity and made myself lonely.  I am not an extrovert; I'm rather shy, actually.  I do not particularly like parties or being in large crowds.  But I do crave human connection.  I like doing things for other people.  It's difficult for me to allow others to do for me.  But that's exactly what I did.  I attended a grief support group here at The Center and a wellness support group at my church.  I made a concerted effort to make new friends and freshen older friendships.  I had plenty of time to be alone, especially at night.  But I found that simply by being open to the love and caring of others I had no time or predilection for loneliness.

Social media of the electronic variety has made connecting with others easier than ever.  I would attribute the nearly pervasive persistence with which both young and old today text, tweet, and instant message to a desperate need to circumvent loneliness.  I hope its working.  But when it comes to feeling truly part of the human community, there's nothing like a warm hug--perhaps even topped with a big, wet kiss.

© 11 Aug 2014 

About the Author 

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.