Lonely

Loneliness

I was reading a thread in another forum about being different and not fitting in, and it got me thinking. The thread was about religious and racial differences. In many ways, I can't relate at all-I've been quite privileged as a white, Christian, middle class male living in suburban North America and I'm thankful for the many advantages I've had.

But as I was pondering this, it got me to thinking about some of the times in my life when I really haven't fit in-whether visibly or invisibly-and the loneliness which that has produced. Some of the best and worst times in my life have been at my loneliest-and often, they have gone together.

["Mitch Robbins: Alright Ed, your best day, what was it, twins in a trapeze, what?
Ed Furillo: No, I don't wanna play.
Mitch Robbins: C'mon, we did it.
Ed Furillo: I don't feel like it.
Mitch Robbins: Uh, okay.
[pause]
Ed Furillo: I'm 14 and my mother and father are fighting again... y'know, because she caught him again. Caught him... This time the girl drove by the house to pick him up. And I finally realized, he wasn't just cheating on my mother, he was cheating us. So I told him, I said, "You're bad to us. We don't love you. I'll take care of my mother and my sister. We don't need you any more." And he made like he was gonna hit me, but I didn't budge. And he turned around and he left. He never bothered us again. Well, I took care of my mother and my sister from that day on. That's my best day.
Phil Berquist: What was you're worst day?
Ed Furillo: Same day." - City Slickers (1991, Ron Underwood)]


Anyway, back to the main thought at hand. Loneliness. Nonconformity. Ostracization. When I was a child I lived in Scotland for a couple of years, and it was a great adventure. At one point, we lived in a castle on a huge estate, there were ruined castles to explore all over the country and my parents took us to them, and the city of Edinburgh was an exciting place for a child to be (we lived in the city for awhile too). I went to a good private school and got a good education. We certainly weren't rich, though, and couldn't afford any real luxuries. School uniforms were a blessing, as we bought all our clothes from thrift stores, so we were not dressed in the latest fashions at all. It was easy as a child to find things to do and games to play-exploring the countryside, exploring the city.

But I had no friends. One of the years we lived there, I never had a friend over to the house, nor was I invited to anyone else's house. At school, I mostly retreated to a classroom and did extra work (math, primarily), to avoid the playground during break times. There were a few kids at school I could talk to, a little, but generally, as a foreigner, I was pariah. Lonely.

["Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely eyes,
Lonely face, lonely lonely in your place.
Lonely, lonely, lonely eyes,
Lonely face, lonely lonely in your place.

I thought that I knew all that there was to,
Lonely, lonely, lonely..." - Tom Waits]

It's not that people were hostile to me, for the most part, though there was some of that. But there was a lack of friendship, a lack of closeness, a lack of intimacy. Somehow I was invisible. Not known, not cared for, not worth even a casual glance. Foreign. Alone.

["I am a solitary man, and not by choice alone. It may sound strange to you, it may border on eccentricity, but I feel to my depths that this, this warm haven in a coldly insane world, is both family and friend to me." - Stanley Ellin]

So I retreated...into myself, into fantasy worlds, into the printed word. Books were my closest friends when flesh and blood seemed absent. They comforted me, encouraged me, aroused me, and frightened and saddened me, but they made me feel alive. And the silence of the people around me-at least silence towards me-also helped me focus inwards. Adolescence is a hard time in anyone's life, I guess, but the silence around me helped me to fathom the very core of my being. Not being distracted by the outside world, the inside was my focus, and my playground, my school and my companion.

[Now don't be a cry baby when there's wood in the shed
There's a bird in the chimney and a stone in my bed
And the road's washed out, we pass the bottle around
And wait in the arms of the cold cold ground. - Tom Waits]

I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't want this to be a "poor me" kind of thing. I am who I am because of my upbringing, and I have had a good life. Solitary, yes. Bad, no. I have nothing to complain about and only a few regrets.

Eventually we moved again, and I came home. I grew up, and found a woman with whom I had children and now I am no longer quite so lonely. I still retreat into myself. I still find it difficult to get close to people, but I don't feel quite so alone.