Alone. One person, autonomous, single. I'm thinking about that word and it's emotional connection to me at this second. What gravity it has.
I have been hiding. I have been peeking out into the world through a little window, and my eyes have drawn in the curtains and I'm behind my four walls again. Alone.
Through what? In my lifetime, I have been alone for the right and wrong reasons. Right, because I have learned so much about myself through reflection and introspection. I've got my flashlight, taken a deep breath and even in the moments when I have been terrified even in the expectancy of what I might find- I looked into the unknown. I found so much... but not terrible darkness. I have found light there. Wrong- because I have found in my search a bunch of stubborn defense mechanisms that keep me away from the world outside. That keep me away from everything- both good and bad. And that was the staggering realisation as I left home for the first time- that I, alone has actually also been the sticking point in me not experiencing ANYTHING in the outside. How I may not have known hurt and pain, I also have not known friendship. How I may not have experienced extortion of myself and exploitation- but I also have not known to be appreciated as who I am. How I may not have experienced the unsafe- I have also not experienced love. Love, the word that my heart pines for. Because I know now that in my safety I had unsafe- in my home. That I was met with indifference. That I was met with objectification. The very things I feared I lived again this time.
Part of me wonders, all that alone for eight solid years- was it worth it?
And I am loathe to say no. Because I learned. I saw the beauty in the world too. I saw how everything is interwoven, everything has a pattern, a synchronicity. That if I listen hard enough, if I delve deep I will find inner treasure and I have known- in eight years the beauty of me. The beauty of what my alone with nature feels like- how connecting with it, I feel my own light resonating like sun. I have grown.
I feel bereft today because I have not felt the loving care. I have not been alone with the beauty of the world for a while. I have had busy streets, and small corridors of sweet floral scents reaching me through the little walk I take the dog. I have heard lone sparrows chirping. I have felt the cold breeze water my eyes and watched the sun go down on the beach. But I have not been alone with the silence. I have not been alone in fields where nature feels bolder.
And where my family has not been with me. Where I have watched my phone be silent and no call, no familiar voice. No words there.. nobody to reach out to. I feel abandoned in that sense. I wish for someone to hold me. For someone to love me and for this to be okay. I realize- this is my inner child talking, this vulnerability weeping within me is the need for outside validation.
But also- I recognize inner treasure here. My defense mechanisms are cracking. I am feeling more. Not the prideful stoicism as before- but the feeling world. I am opening. I know, that even in acceptance of how I feel lonely, vulnerable, sad, anxious, and grief- that I open a little fraction more of my heart. My breaking heart is beautiful, because it means release. It means that the stagnating pools have bust the dam and I am gushing out- not in chaos, but in quiet acceptance. In empathy for myself. In the name of self-love.
So, alone means this- I remember, even though I forget sometimes and lose sight through the grip of fear- to be gentle with me. Because alone means I have nurtured enough of me to know- I deserve that of myself.