My Sunshine and Rain

I spent yesterday alone.

While not quite rainy, the world through my windows was overcast and gloomy. On days like that, I tend to find myself acting quite a bit different than I usually would. Everything seems so much more significant when there's nobody watching, because it feels like the burden falls on me to make things happen. I realize that's ridiculous, but my awareness ends on the outskirts of my field of vision. Without anyone else around within that sphere to have an impact on the world around me, the world around me doesn't change. I often find myself just getting up and walking from room to room, sitting quietly and watching the world go by outside the windows, sometimes intentionally tapping on walls or furniture so that my environment doesn't linger in silence for too long. When I read that sentence over again to myself, it makes me sound like a crazy person. I used to enjoy having some time to myself, but sometimes it's strange how things imprint on you.

There was a span of a couple of months where I lived in what felt like total solitude. My closest non-work friend lived forty-five minutes away and the landlord wouldn't let me out of the lease after my roommate moved out. With my horribly underpaid wages, paying for the entire lease by myself, and gas being $4 a gallon at the time, I couldn't even drive out to see anyone without having to forego something important, like food. As a result of some pretty sudden and significant life changes, I was overcome with constant feelings of depression, inadequacy, and the more than anything, neglect.

When I looked out my window there, you couldn't see any sign of human civilization, all the way to the horizon. Just nature. I woke up every morning and went to sleep every night feeling like there was nobody else in the entire world, but me. Try to imagine, for a moment, what that feels like. You look out your window in most other places and you see other buildings or cars or people. Even seeing other people going on with their lives would have been a comfort. Somehow, even a passerby making eye contact with your building is a good validation that you exist in some form, or somehow matter to somebody. But when I looked out, I knew for certain that no one was looking back. And nobody ever would be. It's one thing to experience this for a few days, but four months really begins to have an adverse affect. At some point, it starts playing tricks on you, and makes you think illogical things. It makes you feel like nothing you do matters to anybody, and in many ways it doesn't, in that situation. I could have gotten in my car and left for weeks at a time, and other than my coworkers, not a soul would have known I was gone. Even when explaining my feelings to people, I don't think they ever truly understand how devastating it felt. It rained a lot that year. That's what I remember the most.

Days like yesterday remind me of that time. It calls up all those odd phobias and neuroses that make me feel a little lonely again. At one point, they were techniques I developed for emotional survival; small steps I could take to keep the loneliness at bay. Maybe that does make me a little crazy, I don't know anymore. And really, it's not the point anyway. I guess at the end of the day, it all boils down to appreciation. I don't feel alone anymore. I have a supportive network of friends who are always there for me and who are well within immediate driving distance. Some of which would probably drop everything if they knew I wasn't doing anything. And most of all, I have Lia. She's been such a positive influence in my life these past thirteen months. I have so much now that I didn't have back then, and I'm so thankful to have it.

Eventually, it did start to rain yesterday evening. For me, a reminder of those dark times. I decided to go out and buy her favorite flowers, and when she called to let me know she was coming home, I sat on the stairs with them, waiting for her to come home so I could surprise her. It was the least I could do.