Wednesday, I wrote about the battle I’ve been fighting with loneliness and the lies that it’s telling me. Lies that no one really likes me, that I’m not wanted, that I should just give in.
I did not have an easy childhood. I was the ridicule of not only my class in school but also the age groups around mine. Those words above that are lies now were the blatant truth from about the age of five to ten. I rarely had friends and when I did it was the result of a parent telling their child to just play with me or until a new kid at school learned from the more popular kids (the rest of the class for the most part) that I was an untouchable. My childhood was spent alone or being humored.
I am introverted by nature and the events of my childhood have helped spur that on. I am much more content to be by myself than with a group. But as much as I may like spending my time sitting on my couch alone & reading, loneliness likes to tag along and sit in my lap like one of my dogs.
Loneliness is an unfortunate byproduct of introvertedness. Despite it being your own choice to not engage you can feel desperately unwanted and alone. It can be a constant struggle.
I tend to judge others actions (or lack of) towards me. I second guess what people say. It’s a dangerous road that takes me to loneliness nearly every time. I am learning – in a hard way – to trust.
I’ve been battling loneliness for the past couple weeks. A loneliness that burrows deep into my heart and sends lies to my brain and back to my heart itself.
Yesterday, I tweeted that some days I feel like the crowd watching a monkey at the zoo, and most days I feel like the monkey in the tree watching the crowd. I feel like I’m just sitting there watching the world go by and every now and then the monkey gets a banana.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt loneliness like this. And it was those many years ago that cause me to believe the lies that are whispered silently and effectively into my soul that just wants to be loved.
I’m not sure how to deal with these lies that were once truths. My heart is so quick to just accept them again, and I feel the tendrils of depression grabbing at me to drag me into its sticky and oily marshes.
So….I press on. Do my best not to believe. To trust in the One who only speaks truth into that longing soul. To seek Him. I remind myself over and over that they are but lies.
Prudence is a 30-something writer who lives in Arizona with her husband Shawn and their chihuahuas Lengua and Zeus. She writes her life, her experiences and her crawl back to hope. Eventually, she hopes to visit India – a place that’s captured her heart without ever stepping foot on the soil.