I feel deep loneliness at the core of my being. It’s part of me. It runs through me and my life like a river. I observe it and know it more intimately as I grow older. With knowing, I’m learning that loneliness is not necessarily “such a sad affair,” words famously coined by The Carpenters in their 1971 hit song Superstar.
Loneliness is neither worse, nor better, than happiness (which I also feel at the core of my being). Some people say we choose our feelings. Others say our feelings choose us. Maybe both are right. I believe loneliness, like happiness, just is. I spend a lot of time alone. I always have. Partly due to circumstance, partly because of who I am.
In the summer of 2012, I was cracking up (not in a good way). I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So I did both. Often. And intensely.
Things were going seriously south. I was at my wits’ end, about to break apart. Luckily, I have enough life experience to know when it’s time to call in the cavalry.
I went online, googled the name of a wonderful therapist (S.Z.) whom I’d seen for several months in 1989, and amazingly was able to find her! Doing so blew my mind – the bits of it, that is, that remained intact after too much alone time with someone whose mind was also being blown (in a tragically different way) by Alzheimer’s disease. Read More…
A little gift from me to you. Enjoy!
1) Make YOU your first love
I know, I know, this can be a tough one, especially since we are all imperfect, and we are often taught that we should strive to be flawless. The fact is, perfection, like fitting in, is vastly overrated.
Remember the story of the cracked pot? Love yourself because of your imperfections, not despite them. Make peace with who you are and where you are today, don’t wait for who you will be once you “fix” yourself.
This poem was born in May 2016.
I tend to write poetry in despair. This piece is different. More hopeful about the possibility of emerging from pain and reclaiming the joy and laughter that’s always stored somewhere, even though we sometimes mistakenly believe it’s beyond reach. Read More…
I’m not sure where this poem came from or exactly what it means, but it emerged and took flight as a result of a prompt in a writing workshop.
So here it is.