“Lonesome I Know You Too Well"
Just Me, Myself, and I
People have never understood why I struggle with summer break. They can’t wrap their heads around why time to myself would be a challenge. But it isn’t about time to myself. It’s about time by myself. I don’t like it.
Sure, once in a while, a little quiet time spent alone is nice but for any extended period, no thank you very much! My job is demanding. It’s noisy. It’s stressful, and it’s absolutely full of people, all the time. When I get home, the quiet is a relief for a little while.
And then it gets heavy. I fill the silence with intrusive thoughts. I keep busy, or try, so I can stay ahead of it; keep those thoughts from becoming a slide into true anxiety or even a depressive episode. Some times it works and sometimes it doesn’t. And that’s just a day or a weekend.
Now, imagine the summer. Many of you just thought, “sounds great!” and I understand it probably does, to you. I understand it must appear that I am looking a gift horse — the gift of summers off — in the mouth. But, as I’ve written before. It’s no gift for me.
Resort Life
I’m staying at a posh resort in Orland, FL right now. My dad and step-mom gifted me with the stay, knowing I needed a vacation. The place is beautiful. There’s a lot going on. I should be enjoying myself. But the hard truth is, I’m not. I’ve tried. I took advantage of poolside drink specials. I took a little swim. I walked miles around Disney Springs. But I never found more than a minute or two of genuinely enjoying myself.
“Sit at a bar by the lake.”
“Enjoy the ‘lazy river’ and the pools.”
“Go shopping.”
Those sound great… with someone.
I’ve been here about six hours now, and I’m the only person I see who’s here alone. I’m the only person without a significant other, a family, a friend or two, or several. And I don’t know if they notice me. I don’t especially care until someone says, “Just you?” when I order my dinner. Yep. Just me.
And it would be “just me” if I was sitting at home. I’d be doing the same thing; staying as busy as I can to keep ahead of the intrusive thoughts. The difference here is that those intrusive thoughts are all about how I’d be enjoying myself if I wasn’t alone; if I had someone to share the experience with, someone to talk to, someone to enjoy it through.
The only person I have to talk to is me. I find myself texting a friend, my brother, posting on Facebook… anything to be sharing the experience, to be involved with other people. If I was at home, the scenery wouldn’t be as nice. There wouldn’t be as many distractions. There’s no pool. There aren’t any evening events going on. The days would likely feel much longer.
So, a change of scenery is nice. High end accomodations are nice.
But I have another full day and a night of doing this by myself and I am not looking forward to it. At all. And I have only that long because I’m already flying home three days before I have to. I have the resort for a full week, but I can’t even imagine being here all that time on my own. Better than my apartment? Sure, but also a lot more expensive to eat and drink, and zero chance of social engagements with friends.
I can chat with anyone. In the security line at the airport, I spent an hour shooting the breeze about music and travel with a stranger. But I probably wouldn’t have started the conversation. He was a rather gregarious and outgoing young man, if a bit strange. I’m not the person to sit at a bar and just start talking to a stranger. This limitation is probably a factor in why my social circle remains so small.
It’s definitely a topic for my therapist. I’m sitting here thinking that, were it not for friends coming to visit for the next few days, I’d just go home. But home is lonely too. It’s really too bad I don’t like dogs. That seems like a simple answer.
36 hours later:
Yesterday, as I waited for friends to arrive, I explored stores at Disney Springs again. I was on a mission for souvenirs for a friend or two. Missions are good. Tasks for someone else are good. They give me focus. I spent a few hours, including treating myself to a nice brunch which I kind of had to talk myself into. Low and behold, a stranger at the bar and I struck up a conversation. She was a retired educator at a conference, and we had a nice conversation. See, it’s not that I’m antisocial.
I spent a good part of the afternoon texting a friend who’s going through some troubling times. Then that tapered off and there were still a few hours before my guests arrived. In that time, I changed my flight to come home a day earlier than I’d planned. The loneliness had set in.
I don’t know that going home will make it any better. My living arrangements aren’t ideal, but it will be easier to stay busy without spending money. My stuff is there. My family is there.
(And my father, who often reads this blog, is going to say the answer, or at least part of it, is I should spend more time visiting or talking to family. And he’s not wrong. But, though, it may temporarily mitigate the isolation, It’s not the same as being socially engaged or eradicating the pervasive loneliness.)
What about you?
I try to blog things that might help others; to offer some advice, perspective, or connection to others who go through the same things I do. I’m afraid this time it might be the reverse.
If you suffer from persistent lonliness and feelings of isolation, how do you manage it? I’ll talk to my therapist about it. Maybe it’s a matter of finding ways to make friends. I worry that’s the case, frankly, because I live in an area where I feel like the likelihood of making connections is awfully small.
What do you do? Has anything helped you navigate it?
Leave a comment. Thank you.
*Lyric by Shawn Mullins
Phillip Davis is the author of Peppermint Lightning, Jack-o-’Lightning, and Justice for the Missing. (Sequel coming in 2023!) He is also an elementary school teacher and mental-health advocate. He writes on the topics of writing, mental health, and self improvement
