Am I learning to be alone
I drifting into silent loneliness?
Are my mindful days, and the lack of a constant urge for change considered resting
I drifting into an abyss of blackness?
Is my contentment to be okay with a sparsely filled calendar, an awakened new period of self-discovery and growth
I retreating into stasis?
Is my lack of desire to control the dust on my shelves, or obsess about the number of times I exercise living with ease
I being lazy?
I wasn’t well enough to be alone for long periods of time the past nine years as I was combatting my symptoms of PTSD. Now, I’ve been allowing myself to be unscheduled, rest, write, read novels, look forward to things, and finally acknowledge how hard I’ve worked to get to this place.
Now, I yearn to be alone for long periods during the day. To sit, rest, and if it happens, deal quietly with the triggers when the skeleton hands of the past try to pull me back down.
For me, loneliness can sneak in when I’m in a room full of people. Maybe part of that was my fear of what would happen if I’m left alone with my own thoughts. Now I know, that I can choose to be with people, or be by myself, and experience that sensation of, “oh, there you are” without fearing that the volley of anxiety and flashbacks, and decompensating into the void of not being okay.
Yesterday I wondered aloud if, although content, I was feeling lonely. Today I wake up and understand that yes, I’m content, and also for the first time I’m learning to be okay, being alone with myself. That being alone is not loneliness.
image source: Pixabay
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph