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October 20, 2006
Learning Loneliness
You know when you are anticipating an event so much that you not only imagine what it will be like, you even feel sad for when it will end? Does that make sense? Like this: say your friend is visiting you and you haven't seen her in years. You are certainly excited about the visit and all that you have planned. You are going to have a great time together. But even before she arrives, you are mourning her departure.
I think that's how I feel. I am excited about this next year. I look forward to working and playing and making art and hanging out with friends and living in this town. But I know this "time" will end and I am already feeling so sad. The stupid thing about it is that I probably wont be leaving here for a year-- so I would be mad to stay all bummed about what's to come. But it's just so hard to go on enjoying things as if they will always be the way they are. Every time I leave my friends for the evening, I could cry because I feel like I will never see them again. That's so crazy! I will see them the next day! How do you make the most of something when you know you are just trying to "make the most of it"?
I consider myself a middle of the road Extrovert/Introvert. They ask, "are you energized by being around people or by spending time alone?" Um, both? Having finally finished school, I realized that I wouldn't be spending nearly as much time around campus, around friends, around teachers, around people. And with the thought of leaving town (on the horizon) I got into that "make the most of it" mode, so I have sort of switched into Extrovert overdrive. I have been trying to spend as much time with people as possible to kind of soak them up before I take off. But as with any drug, the side affect of extroversion is severe lonliness.
The other day, for the first time since I can remember, I couldn't sit still in my apartment. I was alone, and all I could think about was getting out of there. I needed people and companionship and friends.
God it's hard learning loneliness.
A friend of mine has a secret hole in the ground. She has set up a seat and a little shelf for books in the hole. She has hung fabric over the carved clay walls. Today she pulled the plywood cover away and showed me. We climbed in and sat down and she asked me to tell her a secret. It got me thinking about what I don't tell people. I have a lot of emotions and feelings I don't really share. I gave her a pretty vague answer. It was the truth, but it was vague. A blog (no matter how infrequently read) probably isn't the best shrink, but here are some of my feelings:
I am lonely sometimes. I want desperately to be shown and told that I am an acceptable and desirable friend. I love to be needed, but I don't like needy people. I sometimes assume that people are thinking badly about me because I am so critical of them. I am very patient. I am almost always happy, even when I worry or feel lonely. I am scared of God.
I think those feelings are pretty normal. So I am doing all right.
Posted by libbystokes at October 20, 2006 01:00 AM
Comments
today I was working on that cartoon, I was attempting to add you and I was trying to think of things, tangible things I could draw that would encompass the person that is Libby. So I ran through the obvious, the food, the craftsmanship, the back rubs, the bartending...but all these things seems so passing, so futile. I mean they, that is...the things you do, are not in anyway useless. You are very gifted at many things (to the point that sometimes I want to invoke physical violence upon you) but when I was trying to visualize what all those things would look like on paper I just found them to be so inadequate in describing you. Really all I could think about was your face. The honesty that resides on the front of your teeth rather then wedged under your tongue. The life that is stacked on the shelf-like structures that form at the top of your cheeks. For me, Libby can’t be summed up in some stupid little character that I draw but rather in phrases such as, “I am scared of God.” What a profound and frightening thing to say. So I did draw you...in a little striped shirt and a bow in your hair, fondling my beanie-caped head as I play with blocks. But in my opinion I am not sure there is any sort of mark that I could make that would equate to who you are and how much I value you as a human being. I don’t know.
Posted by: jamie at October 24, 2006 11:59 PM