The Reality of Loneliness

Just a few days ago I was sure that the words I wrote would transform me.  Or at least get my feet going on the right path.  Point me in the direction of the confidence my soul needed to overcome days like today.

But here we are.  The loneliness that creeps in and all but cripples me.

I can analyze and journal and try to make all the sense of it that I want to, but sometimes it's so incredibly deep that nothing seems to touch it.

And while it may seem this way, I'm not reaching out for comments, prayers or anything else that might seem appropriate to send my way.  I appreciate them, but not asking for them.

The reason I'm even sharing is that I feel like we live in a world where loneliness like this is way too common.  It runs way to rampant with no regard at all to who may be affected.

We all want to belong.  We all have a deep need to feel a sense of belonging.  Somewhere that is safe and where you matter.

A place where you have value and where what you bring to the world matters.

But too often that simply doesn't happen.  And while it may be on the shoulders of the one who is finding themselves so lonely, there are times where life circumstances simply lead to the loneliness with limited ability to control the environment.

Or maybe there is the ability to make changes, but the guilt that sometimes accompanies the changes that might need to be made feels just as crippling.

I can't speak for every parent of kids like Logan, but for me it can be debilitating.  The weight of the decisions that need to be made and being held hostage by daily seizures plus the recovery time those demand is part of it.

How in the world am I supposed to create a life outside of the four walls of our house if we never get to leave?  There are maybe 2 hours of the day that we feel like we can successfully leave and even then I have to pack up like we may be gone for the full day.

The other part is the slow and almost unrecognizable disappearance from a life outside of Logan and all that he needs.  It starts with the diagnosis at such an early age.  Then the period of survival until it seems you get a handle on whatever this new path in life might look like.  Except that there is no real handle on it.

And while raising kids is also ever changing, the difference with Logan is that there are no expected stages.  No one can tell me what might even come next or when it might come, or that there is a real next.

At some point you realize that you will essentially be caring for a child that will be like an infant for most of his life.  An infant in that you must provide for his every single need, every single day.  Meaning you are on his schedule for the most part and trying to break out of that mold will often bring more struggle.

And before you know it, here you are.  You've said no to so many invitations and offers to participate in life, that the invitations and offers dwindle to none.

But in your own house life must go on, because you and Logan are not the only ones in this family.  So as you live in this cycle of life that feels like no life you've ever known, you have a sideline view of that life that you feel like you are supposed to be living.

Except that the guilt and weight that you carry around makes it feel less like a sideline view where you can get called into the game at any moment and more like a view from somewhere far, far away.

My heart just aches for the loneliness that is being felt by so many people, regardless of their circumstances.  Not only does it hurt deeper than anything you can imagine, you often find yourself not sharing those feelings, because you've reached a point in life where there are very few close enough to you that just want to love you through it.

Very few people that just love you for who you are instead of wanting to fix you or for you to just fix yourself so that you don't bring them down too.

Know that you are walking among them every single day.  They don't need labels or to be fixed, they just need to feel unconditionally loved.

They need to feel understood.  Included.  Like they bring some value to the world.

They need support in finding their place in a world that feels so incredibly foreign to them.

They need to be reminded that they are just who God created them to be and that they are amazing.  But they need to hear that in a very genuine way.

And sometimes it takes others to help adjust that world so that they can actually live in it again.  Especially for parents of kids like Logan.  We just can't live life like everyone else, but it doesn't mean that we don't want to live life like everyone else.

If you haven't ever read this (see below) - it's pretty powerful and accurate.  The ache in my heart for Italy sometimes takes over, but my love and gratitude for Holland grows every year.

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." 

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.