Dear Diary,
It hit me the other day. It really hit me. I am alone. I feel alone. I feel lonely.
Well, I have my family. I have my child. But I am alone and lonely.
This world is sick and screwed if women like me come to the point when they admit to themselves that they are alone and lonely. I would never say it out loud in front of anyone. But when I am alone (pun intended) I can say whatever I want and whatever I truly feel. I am alone and lonely.
We measure things and stages in our lives in various ways. We measure the height of our kids growing up by marking door frames. We measure years by photo albums. We measure experience by grey hair and chips on our heart and soul. How do we measure loneliness? How do we really know that this is it – we are alone?
There are various ways
- not a single one of your ‘friends’ comes to your gran’s funeral
- not a single one of your ‘friends’ call you on the phone or come over for your birthday like friends meant to do
- not a single person in your circle rings you just because
- there is no one to pick up your child from school if you need to
- there is no one to share your good news with
- all your ‘friends’ are at the birthday party and you are the only one not invited
- there is no one…
However, this is not the fun part. The fun part of this post is that I came up with yet another measure of loneliness – bag of cat litter in my car.
Yeah, I have a huge bag of cat litter in my car. I have been driving around with it for days. It is too heavy for me to carry…. and… you guessed it… I do not have anyone to help me.
My parents are on holidays. My daughter is … well my daughter. The rest… the rest is the world of being connected but disconnected.
Yeah, being a Snow Queen sounds very appealing right about now…
Svetlana Tishchenko 