I Hated Loneliness. Then Freedom From Loneliness Changed My Life.

One day, I stopped running, allowed myself to feel it and was free

Welcome to another edition of Beyond Self Improvement! If you missed it, here’s last week’s essay: My Sleep Went to Sh*t After Divorce.

The book Radical Acceptance shares a story about someone who told another they need not change. Only then did the person change, but that wasn’t the point.

This story and another from a fellow retreatant on a recent meditation retreat inspired me. Strangely, I am not feeling any resistance to anything about my partner this week and feel no need for her to change. We’ll see if this shift in perception is permanent.

They don’t make collars like that anymore.

Dear Friend,

"I'm all alone, and nobody cares about me. My only friend is our dog, Reggie," I thought as I stood in the backyard of my childhood home. It didn't seem right that my best friend was a dog at age fourteen, and I wondered what that said about me.

Loneliness was the most painful emotion growing up. I felt terrorized by it and dreaded it.

Whenever the feeling arose, it consumed me, sweeping me away in a river of sorrow, leaving me naked and vulnerable. I resisted but had no control over when it appeared or for how long.

My cousins used to visit us over Christmas. We would walk around New York City, enjoying the decorations, festivities and holiday lights. It was magical.

In fourth grade, my cousin Daniel taught me how to disassemble a Rubik's cube, fill it with Vaseline, reassemble it and solve it. Over time, solving it became routine, so I stopped playing and eventually forgot the solution.

Spending the holidays with my cousins was the highlight of my year, so whenever they flew home, I would miss them terribly. Sitting alone in the basement in the dark one year, I was overcome with grief. The pain was unbearable, and I cried.

This same loneliness followed me into adulthood, along with the feeling that I didn't belong. Everywhere I went, I felt like an outsider looking in at life.

After my divorce, I joined a men's group, thinking I would benefit from being among men after spending so much time with my ex-wife.

During a routine check-in, I shared that I was struggling with something. "You know, you have to let the emotion exist and feel it," said Ben, one of the guys in the group. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm supposed to feel it," I replied. I had been working with emotions for years and felt confident.

Two days later, while walking through my place, loneliness appeared. Oh, no. Not loneliness. Anything but loneliness. God, I hate loneliness. I heard my mind say with a resigned heaviness.

I remembered what Ben had said in the men's group. He was right; I had never allowed myself to feel lonely—it had always been too painful. But today, I was willing to face my fear and feel what it was like to be lonely, once and for all.

Standing in the doorway between my family room and bedroom, I stopped resisting and reluctantly surrendered. I just stood there, letting myself feel what loneliness was like.

Surprisingly, there was no lightning bolt, and I didn't die.

"No, really. Show me what you got. I want to feel what it's like to be lonely," I said aloud. There was silence.

"That's it? That's all you got? I'm standing right here. C'mon, give me everything you got! I want the full monty." Again, crickets.

"Un-believable. This is what I've been running from my whole life? A fucking mirage?! What a joke."

Just then, an image of the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz appeared in my mind. I had been afraid of and running from this dreadful thing when, all along, it was nothing more than a man behind a curtain pulling the levers and terrorizing me as he did the Lion, Scarecrow and Tin Man.

As the absurdity of my folly hit me, I laughed out loud. Oh, the drama and suffering I had created for myself over the years.

I have not felt lonely since that day about twelve years ago. Alone, yes, but not lonely. Being alone somehow feels okay and workable, while loneliness feels intolerable.

Today, I feel as if I'm at the center of life. I am no longer that sad, friendless outsider on the fringes looking in; I am a part of the very fabric of life. This is not something I do, but something that is in the same way that loneliness just was. The only change is in my perception.

Of course, that’s not to say I always feel like I belong. In new environments, I feel like an outsider where everyone knows each other except me. Not until I've been in a new environment for some time will I feel confident, accepted, and belong.

If feeling one with everything is the most incredible feeling, then it follows that the opposite—feeling all alone in the world—must be the most painful. I still experience difficult emotions like anger, judgment and doubt, but I'm grateful not to feel isolated anymore.

I hope that through my story, you will be inspired to face your own painful emotions.

Keep feeling,

Ryan

Thanks for walking this path with me. I look forward to seeing you next Wednesday.

A ground squirrel scratched Wasabi before she, um, killed it.