the art of loneliness, part II
Another holiday season is upon us and once again I’m not feeling as jolly as I’d hoped to feel.
I am one hundred fold better than last year. The fact that I actually put up my holiday decorations is proof of that. But still, I feel a familiar malaise creeping over me. Having a bit more money to spend on the people I care about might help, but this really isn’t about that. No, not really.
At the end of every week I make plans to do stuff. Stuff that is supposed to make the time pass and have others believe my life is other than it seems. But then Saturday morning arrives and I don’t do anything I’d planned. Even walking ten minutes to my beach requires too much effort.
I wrote about how lonely I felt in New Orleans. Truth is, I feel lonely here, too. I rarely see my long-time friends. The one must believe that bankruptcy is catching. Pfffft! My family is mostly all in Minnesota and I miss them horribly. I was so used to having them a half hour train ride away. A lovely, loving escape to suburgatory.
I always used to absolutely love the holidays. I loved the decorating, the shopping, the cooking, the parties, everything. Things changed after my son’s suicide. The joy left. Christmas is so special when there are children. And despite various things I’ve tried since 1991, I still am not joyful at the holidays.
I am discovering how people become cut off from others and why it’s even harder to make friends after a certain age. It’s a gradual thing. So gradual one barely notices.
I think this may be one reason I keep taking photos. It keeps me connected to people, even if it’s cyberly.* But maybe that’s part of the problem. This connection to people with whom you can’t share a coffee, or whom you can’t hug goodbye. The human need for real-time connections is strong. As much as I adore the friends I’ve made online, I need more. I value their friendships and their support of my photography and the sharing of life moments, but I still want more. I’m just not sure how to go about it. I’ve tried many things over the years, but they are hardly ever satisfying. I did meet one beautiful soul in New Orleans trying one of these things, and I will always be grateful for her friendship and the fun we had doing lunch and taking photos.
But this doesn’t happen all the time. Hardly ever. I think it may be because I have no patience for shallow, silly people. I like people that are intelligent and kind, and not afraid to be real and vulnerable. And that are also fun. At least my idea of fun which may not be everybody’s. I don’t like crowds, I prefer a small group of friends. I am, by nature, quiet and (usually) soft-spoken. I am an introvert. I like more cerebral endeavours. I prefer quiet dinners or teas to loudness. I prefer outings where one learns history or is surrounded by nature. Of course, wandering through second-hand stores and antique shops looking for a sweet deal is always fun. But don't ask me to visit a mall.
I may be my own worst enemy in this regard. I cry of loneliness but then refuse any ideas that might help. It’s a conundrum.
During this season of excess and festiveness, please don’t forget there are many out there that are not feeling the joy. It might appear they are, but they are not. People in need are not always the ones that express it. So please try to always be kind and accepting.
I’ll just smile and bide my time until January.
*Addendum: before I could post this, the mail came and I received a lovely package from the Netherlands. These small things are what it’s all about. Thank you, my dear friend. One day in Montréal or Paris, we will have tea.
I am one hundred fold better than last year. The fact that I actually put up my holiday decorations is proof of that. But still, I feel a familiar malaise creeping over me. Having a bit more money to spend on the people I care about might help, but this really isn’t about that. No, not really.
At the end of every week I make plans to do stuff. Stuff that is supposed to make the time pass and have others believe my life is other than it seems. But then Saturday morning arrives and I don’t do anything I’d planned. Even walking ten minutes to my beach requires too much effort.
I wrote about how lonely I felt in New Orleans. Truth is, I feel lonely here, too. I rarely see my long-time friends. The one must believe that bankruptcy is catching. Pfffft! My family is mostly all in Minnesota and I miss them horribly. I was so used to having them a half hour train ride away. A lovely, loving escape to suburgatory.
I always used to absolutely love the holidays. I loved the decorating, the shopping, the cooking, the parties, everything. Things changed after my son’s suicide. The joy left. Christmas is so special when there are children. And despite various things I’ve tried since 1991, I still am not joyful at the holidays.
I am discovering how people become cut off from others and why it’s even harder to make friends after a certain age. It’s a gradual thing. So gradual one barely notices.
I think this may be one reason I keep taking photos. It keeps me connected to people, even if it’s cyberly.* But maybe that’s part of the problem. This connection to people with whom you can’t share a coffee, or whom you can’t hug goodbye. The human need for real-time connections is strong. As much as I adore the friends I’ve made online, I need more. I value their friendships and their support of my photography and the sharing of life moments, but I still want more. I’m just not sure how to go about it. I’ve tried many things over the years, but they are hardly ever satisfying. I did meet one beautiful soul in New Orleans trying one of these things, and I will always be grateful for her friendship and the fun we had doing lunch and taking photos.
But this doesn’t happen all the time. Hardly ever. I think it may be because I have no patience for shallow, silly people. I like people that are intelligent and kind, and not afraid to be real and vulnerable. And that are also fun. At least my idea of fun which may not be everybody’s. I don’t like crowds, I prefer a small group of friends. I am, by nature, quiet and (usually) soft-spoken. I am an introvert. I like more cerebral endeavours. I prefer quiet dinners or teas to loudness. I prefer outings where one learns history or is surrounded by nature. Of course, wandering through second-hand stores and antique shops looking for a sweet deal is always fun. But don't ask me to visit a mall.
I may be my own worst enemy in this regard. I cry of loneliness but then refuse any ideas that might help. It’s a conundrum.
During this season of excess and festiveness, please don’t forget there are many out there that are not feeling the joy. It might appear they are, but they are not. People in need are not always the ones that express it. So please try to always be kind and accepting.
I’ll just smile and bide my time until January.
*Addendum: before I could post this, the mail came and I received a lovely package from the Netherlands. These small things are what it’s all about. Thank you, my dear friend. One day in Montréal or Paris, we will have tea.
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| seasons collide ©Trish Korous |
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