the depths of loneliness

I notice a difference in the tone of my blog posts depending on the time I write them. If you happen to get a morning or afternoon post, it's generally going to be happy and upbeat. If you get an evening post, it's going to be about food (because of the dinnertime proximity). But, if you get a late night one--like this one (and like most of them, sorry about that)--chances are its going to be very self-reflective and maybe even a little sad...wrapped up with the lesson I've learned from it. These late night hours are my deep thinkin' time.

Because they're so stinking quiet.

Seriously. It is 12:05 am right now and it is so quiet in my house I can taste it. It tastes like grapefruit and toothpaste. It's the type of silence that's so silent, it can't be covered up with the sound of music or television.

It's very, very lonely.

By this time of day, I have been in classes for 3-6 hours with equally as much time doing homework (remember, I'm the idiot incredibly ambitious woman taking 25 credits in one semester?) Class means getting talked at. Lots and lots of getting talked at. And when the professor says we get a turn to talk, we have to talk about books and writing, since they are English classes and all. During our 5 minute breaks, I might chat with students in my class...usually about more books and writing...because we don't generally know each other outside of a school setting, and they look at me weird if I start talking about my son's french horn concert or my kidney stone. Then, I come home and my kids talk at me. Because they're kids, and that's how it should be. I like to hear what they're thinking (and now have an incredible working knowledge of all things Lego Star Wars). And even though they usually ask me how my day went, they're really asking what happened that was funny or that they can relate to--so that's what I tell them. Because I'm not the type of mom who's going to unload all her cares or problems on her children, even if I have them.

Then it's their bedtime and ....

I'm alone.

After a full day of being talked at, I have no one to talk to. Just me and this nasty-tasting silence. (Well, and sometimes the cat, but we haven't learned to span the language gap yet.)

I had a bit of a scare this past week. I kept hitting a sore spot along my jaw when I would wash my face. I thought I must have bumped my face on something and had a little bruise. Then I actually pushed on the sore spot and felt...a lump. I called my dentist who was worried because of my family history of breast cancer. The same type of cancer that attacks breasts attacks lymph nodes, and where I was describing the lump was exactly where there would be lymph nodes.

So, I went to see him, mostly knowing that things were going to be ok, but a little scared too. Because you just never know.

Thank goodness it was just a blocked salivary gland. I was instructed to use a moist heat pack, eat some sour stuff, and give it a week. Not too hard.

But it got me really thinking. What if it HAD been cancer? What then? Who would go through that with me? What if I were ran over by a bus tomorrow? Who would bury me? My parents are dead. I only see my siblings 2-3 times a year and, as wonderful as I think they are, we are largely disconnected from one another's lives. My aunts and uncles are scattered across the country. My in-law family still loves and claims me but are too busy with their own families to check in on me. I have great friends but, again, they have their own lives and families to worry about. I understand. Honestly. It's just a little scary when I realize: No adult really has a vested interest in me.  I know there would be plenty of people sad if I got cancer and/or was plowed over by said bus, but no one willing to call my problems their own, because that's what spouses and parents are for, right? Isn't enough just to deal with your own stuff without taking on another person's who isn't really "doing" anything for you?

A divorced orphan is about the loneliest thing to be. Thank goodness for my wonderful children, but they are still...children.

I would be lying if I said I didn't get angry sometimes that Brad got to go right from me to someone else and never had to feel that weight of loneliness. I bet he never sat in a right-before-midnight house, heavy with silence, and just had to be ok with it because there were no other options. And to know it would be that quiet the next night and the next and the next. As co-dependent as I'm sure it makes me sound, I have to say that: The times I have been in relationships have been really nice. Having someone to call me at the end of the day or stop by to see how I was. To listen. To give me something to listen to. That felt like the way it should be. But, thus far, none of those relationships have worked out. Ninja is still my best friend and a great helper in my life. He has saved my behind more times than I can count...but the other guys and I have all parted as friends too...and they soon go on to find new girlfriends, and their visits or calls or texts get fewer and far between until they stop. Again, I understand. That's called 'moving on' and it needs to happen. No hard feelings.

And now...my boys need someone to put them first more than ever. They're still very hurt and confused over the things their dad has done, which means I have to be the one to step up again and be there for them, and put my own romantic pursuits on the backburner for a while. It means having to sit with this thick, lonely silence for some time longer. And hope I don't get cancer or ran over by a bus. And have to look at everyone's Facebook profiles on Valentines Day, smiling as couples, proclaiming their love for one another. Truly, genuinely happy for them...and yet sobbing into my oatmeal at the same time.

I  don't think I'm doing much here to make myself not sound pathetic, am I? Look, I know I'm **pretty darn wonderful**, and one day, when the time is right, I'm going to find someone who agrees with me, and things are going to click, and all the stars will align, and all this silence will be filled to the point that I'm wishing that Mr.Wonderful would be quiet already :). Until then, God is doing a great job of keeping me company. If He didn't want me right where I was, then He would take me out of it. I trust that. I take comfort in His spirtual arms until they can be joined with a pair of physical ones. And a warm chest to lay my head on. And a  hand to stroke my hair.

The waiting is the hardest part. Just waiting for the Lord to make things happen on His timeline. Which always means....patience. Hmph. Patience, again.

 Until then, thanks for letting me talk to you...in a round about sort of way. And for listening.