I was at home alone last night. This is never a good thing, me being alone for any length of time. It's when I am home alone that I begin to think about my situation, I begin to chew on the realities of my life these days, the loss and limitations. When I am home alone, I rarely think of good and wonderful things; it's just the way I am. As an extrovert, I need the company of others to fee truly alive.
It's easy to see whey there are crisis lines and help lines out there. I suspect for a great many people that feeling of being alone compounds so many of their other feelings. I can feel it for myself. When I sit at home alone, I ponder on the loneliness of my situation, the solitariness of having this illness, of living this life. Even with all the people I have in my life, I still feel very alone much of the time.
Who do I call when I feel like this? To whom can I reach out? The reality is that these feelings often come late at night, long past when others who would truly understand my situation are well into sleep. This is no crisis; calling a crisis line seems silly. I don't want to commit suicide, so calling a suicide line is seems equally silly. In fact it's hard to think of anyone to call; this situation is so unique, so unusual, that there are very few who would truly understand it.
Of course what I really need to do is to go to bed, something I always do eventually. What I need is to get some rest and start a new day, get another look at things. This, unfortunately, leads to my next challenge, when I wake up in the morning and wonder why I should bother to get out of bed. My book is in bed with me. I am comfortable. I am safe. I won't have to endure the struggle and pain of getting up.
But then reality sets in. I have to go to the bathroom. I have company coming today. I am hosting a fondue party. I need to prepare. That's my motivator, responsibility. I don't really have to do anything; eventually I won't be able to do anything. But I feel responsible; I've invited people over so I should do my best to prepare. You see, I have a focus, something to do. It means people will be with me this evening. I will come alive once again, like a flower bursting into bloom only when it is with a host of other flowers.
That's what keeps me going, what gives me purpose; the other people in my life. When they go, so will I. For now, the are here, sticking around for a rough ride. Me too.
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