M E R I D I A N M A G A Z I N E
What Loneliness Feels
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By Susan
Law Corpany
My first holiday season alone as a young widow was excruciatingly painful. I wasn’t ready to date yet, but a part of me yearned to spend some platonic non-threatening time with an available man who was not my dad, my brother or my bishop.
My first attempt had failed miserably. I had run into Mark, an old friend of mine, still unattached, who served in the bishopric of a singles ward. When he found out I had lost my husband, he had written down the information about the ward and had invited me to visit some time. I took him up on the offer a few weeks later.
He sat next to me in Sunday school, helped entertain my little boy, and on impulse, I invited him to help us get a Christmas tree and decorate it. He responded by asking me if I had home teachers. (Perhaps I hadn’t brushed up on my flirting abilities enough so that he could tell it was a social invitation.)
His response sent me to an empty classroom in tears, angered at the fact that he didn’t realize that I didn’t want or need another opportunity to be the ward service project. It was all I could do to sit through his closing announcement in Sacrament Meeting. “The holidays are approaching, so be sensitive to those around you who are lonely...”
I didn’t visit his singles’ ward again. I wasn’t going to bother my home teachers, one of whom had a wife who seemed suspicious of my motives in the occasional calls to her husband. Hurt and humiliated by that, I was doing my best to handle things on my own, short a major catastrophe.
I bought a little Charlie Brown Christmas tree, small enough to fit in my car. Little Scotty fell asleep while I was decorating it, so I put him to bed and I finished decorating alone. The television was on, mostly to have the sound of voices in the room.
Done with the tree, I had plopped down on the sofa and was watching whatever was on. I knew I was beyond lonely because earlier in the week while having dental work done, I had thought about how nice it was to have a man touch my face. Now that’s lonely!
I was startled from my indentation in the sofa by the phone ringing. When I picked up, I heard a deep masculine voice say, “Sorry I’m running late. Turn down the lights, and put another log on the fire. I’ve got a movie, a pizza, a bouquet of flowers and I’m on the way over.”
I paused for just a moment and then replied, “If I tell you you’ve got a wrong number, does that mean you’re not coming over?”
In my book, Unfinished Business, there is a scene where Beverly, the young widow, tries to lure her neighbor, who is delivering treats, inside for a visit. For those who know me or even know of me, it is easy to see that there is much of me in this character.
Beverly tries to invite her in for a visit, but Sister Richter will not be deterred from her appointed rounds. She is on the fudge delivery circuit. “Neither hail nor snow nor dead of night. The fudge must go through.”
“I can’t really come in right now, but thanks for asking.”
Thanks for asking? I wasn’t asking for you. I was asking for me.
Whenever I watch Mr. Krueger’s Christmas, I always tear up a little bit at the scene where he tries to lure the carolers inside with hot chocolate, because I know how it feels to be that lonely.
Imagine how lonely you have to be to try to flirt with someone on the other end of a wrong number.
Imagine what it feels like to be the older single sibling at the family gathering watching spouses nuzzle and give each other gifts.
Imagine dropping off the kids at your ex-husband’s home because it is his year to have them and driving home to spend Christmas alone.
Further imagine receiving a sympathy invitation to enjoy Christmas dinner with him and his new wife and your kids.
Imagine what it feels like to be told you shouldn’t mind working on Thanksgiving and Christmas because “you don’t have a family and don’t really need the time off as much as those of us who are married.”
Imagine watching your engaged roommate go off to plan her wedding while you sit home dateless yet another Friday night.
Imagine how it feels to sit crying lignon-free tears (for all you scrapbookers out there) onto a photo album visiting Christmases Past after a beloved spouse has died.
Imagine buying yourself a gift from your dog and putting it under the tree, because you’re not sure anyone else will remember you.
This is Your Life
Listening to free performances on Friday evenings of Bosco’s One-Man Band on the Kona Boardwalk was a popular date night stop for my husband, Thom and his late wife, also Susan. A few months after she died, he found himself wandering along the waterfront and decided to sit down and listen to Bosco for a few minutes.
As he drew closer, he saw two elderly single brothers from church, each sitting by himself in opposite corners at the rear of the crowd. He later described how hard that observation hit him. This is it, then? This is my future, hanging out by myself every Friday night, watching Bosco, tapping my feet, trying not to die of terminal loneliness.
Doing it All
For a single parent, the one-man band is an accurate description. With a variety of instruments strapped to his body, he juggles a job, household duties and maintenance, tackles school issues, alternates between being the disciplinarian and the understanding parent (hoping he — or she — is being the right one at the right time), takes care of finances, and performs a myriad of other tasks.
Horn in this hand, harmonica in the other, stomp on the foot pedal to clap the drums. Fall into bed exhausted at the end of the day and rise in the morning to try and do it all over again. “Divide and conquer” is no longer possible and only applies when it is the children now playing their parents one against the other.
Whether widowed, divorced or never having been married, the holidays are a time when families come together and a single person can feel like “The Little Match Girl” with her face pressed against the window of the home of The Happy Family, watching from the cold, wondering what that warm fire inside feels like.
A few years ago, a divorced friend greeted me at a holiday singles party with, “Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys.” The holidays can be a difficult time, a time when people who are alone are more prone to depression and discouragement. I asked a few Meridian readers who are single to share some of their experiences. I am grateful to those who responded, and I share some of those here. I found a common thread through these stories, a spirit of resilience, and a sense of relying on the Lord in a way they never had before. I share these stories in hopes that we will all remember to look around us for “the hands that hang down” (perhaps because no one else is holding them), those who may need a little extra love, some hugs, and some company that does not come in the form of a blind date.
Feeling Uplifted instead of Broken
A single sister shares an experience that not only helped her, but also benefited a ward:
Singles experience many kinds of aloneness — being the sole breadwinner, coming home to an empty house, enduring misjudgment and lack of empathy. But one of the most difficult kinds of aloneness comes with being single in a ward where everything seems to center around the family: sacrament meeting talks, lessons, Enrichment meetings, preparedness programs, ward activities. Far too often, singles are left without resources, support, or a true feeling of being part of the ward.
Thankfully, in my ward I was able to express these concerns to a caring bishop and ward council, observing that sometimes we seemed to glorify families instead of glorifying the Lord. After heartfelt discussion, we determined that our ward needed to become more Christ-centered.
The result has been something of a ward rebirth. Spirituality and unity have increased. Sacrament meetings have become spiritual feasts. And I leave church feeling uplifted instead of broken. Does this mean we stopped strengthening families? Absolutely not — rather, we've done the most important thing we could have done to help families and singles alike: placed our focus and emphasis on the Lord Jesus Christ.
You’re Not Alone
A divorced sister struggled to carry on:
I have a journal full of answered prayers, especially during and after a very sad divorce. It was ugly and terribly disheartening to face life with five children and without money or a skill to make money. I was overwhelmed with loneliness, almost more than when I was married. Children are not always in sync with a mom who is facing emotional pain. My family wasn't very supportive so I had to lean on the Lord. What happened was, I didn't die. I just sometimes wished I could.
About this time I met a woman who would prove to be my dearest friend. She laughed with me and we talked way into the night. She pointed me in directions that helped me to understand who I was and that I was not alone.
The gospel enlightened me to the sufferings of the Savior and how he knows me personally. I held on and didn't give up. Being single is yet another of the many life situations where we must do all we can to remain positive. My journal proves this with entries that start out detailing frustrations and despair and end up with yet another answer from the Lord.
I purposely overbook myself so as to have no time in which to feel lonely. I fall into bed, exhausted, every night, and I survive on five hours of sleep, most nights. I do needlework as much because of the tactile pleasures it provides, as because of a need to make beauty. I am seriously under-touched, and when I can't stand it any longer I go to a same-sex licensed massage therapist and come home feeling safe and comforted.
I truly understand why babies die when they don't receive enough touch; thankfully, I am a reasonably rational adult and have come up with work-arounds that do not require remorse and repentance. Cashmere gloves and alpaca socks, either made for myself or as gifts for others, are some of the strategies that keep me sane.
A divorced sister gives us a glimpse into her heart and her journal:
I remember a long time ago I used to enjoy writing in my journal. Now it is painful and I don't really want anyone — especially my children — to read it. Lately I have been very faithful in reading from the scriptures daily. I feel I am trying so hard and Brad isn't at all.
I have tried so hard all my married life to have a better relationship with Brad, but one person can't do it! I wish I knew beyond a shadow of doubt he would not leave but eventually love me and we could have a close marriage.
How could he walk out on his family? How could he lose sight of eternal goals? How could he give up? How will I manage the rest of my life? People are really talking now and some are having a heyday in the lies they spread. It really hurts. I guess I'll never be through having to forgive. Enduring to the end means to the end of each day to me.
Fear and Faith
A single sister found her Savior:
Getting to know my Savior and drawing near unto him through scriptures, prayer, and service has eased any loneliness. As a direct result my fear is departing as my faith tries hard to endure. Just simply sharing the love of Jesus Christ with someone who is lonely is the most valuable help that can be offered. It is the only way I have found, in over a decade of searching, to truly help loneliness.
Loneliness is dangerous and it has led me to actions that increased my unhappiness and multiplied my loneliness. Learning about my Savior and staying close to him has alleviated all loneliness. I look to him for comfort, for safety, for understanding, for peace, for companionship, for love. I have found that he is perfect. He is the healer of hearts. The most we can do for someone we know who is lonely is to introduce or share with them the spirit, teachings, and love of Jesus Christ.
A Different Animal
Being single when older is not quite the same as the first time around:
On separate occasions, two people I respect said in effect, "I know what it's like to be single — after all, I used to be single, and it's not that bad." They didn't mean it unkindly. As I reflected, I think I realized the source of their misunderstanding: When they think of being single, they equate it with their carefree college days, with limited responsibilities and their whole lives ahead. They don't realize that living "real life" as a single is very, very different.
Heartbreak Healed
This sister put her trial in perspective with the help of a couple of children:
I was very young the first time I got engaged. My fiancée decided to call off the wedding, leaving me devastated, without a "Plan B," and all of this just in time for the holidays. By Christmas, I had been crying for two straight months, but decided to help with the preparations for dinner.
As I passed by the front door of my house, I saw two poor, little children sweeping my garage (there are many such little ones in my country), perhaps hoping to raise some money for the traditional firecrackers or for a little present for their mother.
Seeing them made me realize that everybody knows misery to some extent, and mine would luckily be temporary. I decided that the beauty of Christmas was not only having dinner with loved ones, remembering the birth of the Savior and having a good time, but it was also sharing my bread with those who have none, showing kindness to those who crave to feel love and acceptance, and doing at least one good deed that will warm my heart with the feeling of acceptance from Jesus, whose birth we celebrate.
Rich in What Matters
Finding strength beyond her own, this sister writes:
The first Christmas the kids and I were alone was a tough one. We could either buy a tree or each have one present. The kids opted for a tree and decided that we would make something from what we had in the house for our gifts. But what happened was they each took their precious keepsakes and gave them to the others who they knew would like them.
We wrapped them all up fancy, using funny papers and yarn and making different objects out of the wrappings — a sailboat, a tree, whatever we could think of to disguise what we had given. No money either for a Christmas dinner and no family to share one with led us to yet another different decision.
I had enough gas in the car and a few dollars so we decided we would drive to San Bernardino to look at the Christmas lights and sights. We drove around for a while and looked at the beautiful decorations then stopped at a store for something to eat. We bought a loaf of bread, a tiny jar of peanut butter and a quart of milk.
We took our prized "holiday dinner" and had lunch on one of the benches at the park that was right next door to the deli. We all shared the milk and made peanut butter sandwiches. Across the way from us were a couple of disheveled-looking men drinking from a paper bag — and for the first time that day, we really felt rich and blessed. We had a home, a car, each other and at least peanut butter sandwiches and milk. Not having a big turkey dinner didn't matter after all.
It didn't seem to matter either that we didn't have loads of presents, as we all appreciated the treasures that we had from each other as they were given from the heart. My four-year-old son said he felt like the "Little Drummer Boy.” We didn't think any store-bought gifts would have made us feel any better that day than the ones we were given and the blessings we had from Heavenly Father.
We realized we weren't poor, but very rich as it was a very special day and we were celebrating the birthday of Jesus — and what better way than the way we were.
Look around you this holiday season for people who are lonely, people whose dog didn’t really get them what they wanted. Reach out to them, enjoy them, include them. Or you can always tell them to call their home teachers.
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