Tuesday, May 30, 2006 at 2:02am
Fear of being alone
Column: Writing Down Your Soul
During my divorce, I prayed incessantly. I prayed that I would be safe at home and my son would be safe at his father's home. I prayed that I'd find a better lawyer, a decent place to live, and the right school for my son. I prayed that the judge would let us move, the house would sell, and clients would fall out of the sky. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed.
But there was one prayer that was so deep, so painful, so raw that I was afraid to pray it. There was one fear that was so embedded and so terrible that I was afraid to even name it. Maybe, if I didn't put the word on paper or say it in my mind, it would just go away. But, deep inside, I knew this was the fear. Every thing else was just the tentacles of this one monstrous fear.
One summer morning, after dropping my son off at art camp, I listened to Caroline Myss's tape, "Why People Don't Heal", on the way home. I had listened to her tape dozens of times, but that morning I heard her say that to have a real relationship (as opposed to one based on shared wounds) a person must become intimate with the fear of being alone. My head spun on my neck and I stared at the tape player. There it was. The word. The fear. The source of my panic — a panic everyone going through divorce knows and feels. She had named the thing I had to heal. If I didn't, it would own me forever and I would never get over my divorce and, worse, never fully live or love again.
In the next breath, Caroline Myss said to invite the fear of being alone to dinner. I tried to imagine: "Hello, Fear-of-Being-Alone. Thanks so much for coming. Sit right here. I've made us a lovely gazpacho with French bread and sweet butter. Sit down, Fear-of-Being-Alone, make yourself comfortable. I'd like to get to know you better."
Sounds pretty ridiculous, doesn't it? But, isn't that what finally happens when we force ourselves to be alone in our home, alone with our thoughts, alone with our own company? Isn't that what finally happens when we stop camouflaging the fear of being alone with alcohol or TV or work or busy-ness? Driving home, I realized I had filled my alone time with doing: with cooking, cleaning, working, weeding, shopping, exercising — anything to keep me focused on doing instead of being. I was afraid that if I stopped to just be, I would be swallowed by the overwhelming feeling of being alone.
When I got home I wrote in my sacred journal: "Dear God, I'm so afraid. Afraid of what's going to happen, afraid of what my ex might do, afraid about money, afraid about work, afraid about all those things. But also something deeper, something bigger. Because if I had a partner and didn't know the future, I wouldn't be so afraid. If I had a partner and wasn't making enough money, I would have someone to talk to, someone to lean on. If I had a partner, I wouldn't be alone. But I am alone."
Then I wrote a list of all the scary things I was alone with. Things like a leaking roof, disappearing savings, and overdue tuition bills. I made a list of things I was afraid to face alone: evacuating in a hurricane, finding my son a new school, deciding to move or not. The list got very long, two pages long.
But then this odd thing happened. A new list began to appear on the page: all the things I was delighted to be alone to experience. I realized I was happy to read alone, to write in the wee hours, to pray in the manner I loved. I was delighted to be alone to plant my herb garden, repaint the dining room orange, watch foreign movies, and eat chocolate for breakfast.
Because I was alone, I could choose where to go to church, what clothes to wear, and what music to play. A page overflowed with all the things I was free to experience precisely because I was alone. Suddenly being alone didn't seem all bad.
Then the prayer did a most amazing thing. It looped around to the realization that although I may be physically alone in my home, or legally alone as a "head of household," I am not alone. Not at all. Because there's me, and my son, and my family and my few true friends. There's my God and the angels. There's the voices of the writers and composers who inspire and move me.
Why, I realized, it's downright crowded in here! And we are all connected. We know this. We hear it in one form or another in all of our worship communities: We are all connected in Spirit. We are all one, which is just another spelling for alone: all one = al-one = alone.
So, if we are not alone, can't be alone, because we are all one in spirit, why do we wallow endlessly in our fear of being alone, alone, alone? Why do we cry ourselves dry wailing, "I'm so alone!"? Why do we rush out to start another relationship when we haven't scratched the surface of healing the old one? Why does this fear of being alone own us? It has to be a universal fear for a reason.
This fear must be telling us something about being human, something about being here. Perhaps this is the concept we are supposed to learn in our human experience. If it is, then perhaps we are blessed when we experience loss, separation, or divorce, because we are forced, at last, to deal with it. And the best way I know to deal with the things I am afraid of is to pray, pray, pray.
So, write a prayer about all the things you are afraid of and why being alone is your core fear. Explore all the ways you could shift your thinking about being alone, how you could befriend this ghost and get comfortable in your own skin.
I have just one word of caution. While you are writing about being alone, do not undo the work by going out or getting busy. To study alone, fully and completely; to make peace with being alone; to befriend being alone; it is important — no, essential — to be alone.
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geographyseries. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner
— — —
UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum is a big tent for all expressions
of faith and spirituality, neither excluding nor favoring any.
All opinions expressed belong to the writer alone, and are
not necessarily shared by UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum.
But there was one prayer that was so deep, so painful, so raw that I was afraid to pray it. There was one fear that was so embedded and so terrible that I was afraid to even name it. Maybe, if I didn't put the word on paper or say it in my mind, it would just go away. But, deep inside, I knew this was the fear. Every thing else was just the tentacles of this one monstrous fear.
One summer morning, after dropping my son off at art camp, I listened to Caroline Myss's tape, "Why People Don't Heal", on the way home. I had listened to her tape dozens of times, but that morning I heard her say that to have a real relationship (as opposed to one based on shared wounds) a person must become intimate with the fear of being alone. My head spun on my neck and I stared at the tape player. There it was. The word. The fear. The source of my panic — a panic everyone going through divorce knows and feels. She had named the thing I had to heal. If I didn't, it would own me forever and I would never get over my divorce and, worse, never fully live or love again.
In the next breath, Caroline Myss said to invite the fear of being alone to dinner. I tried to imagine: "Hello, Fear-of-Being-Alone. Thanks so much for coming. Sit right here. I've made us a lovely gazpacho with French bread and sweet butter. Sit down, Fear-of-Being-Alone, make yourself comfortable. I'd like to get to know you better."
Sounds pretty ridiculous, doesn't it? But, isn't that what finally happens when we force ourselves to be alone in our home, alone with our thoughts, alone with our own company? Isn't that what finally happens when we stop camouflaging the fear of being alone with alcohol or TV or work or busy-ness? Driving home, I realized I had filled my alone time with doing: with cooking, cleaning, working, weeding, shopping, exercising — anything to keep me focused on doing instead of being. I was afraid that if I stopped to just be, I would be swallowed by the overwhelming feeling of being alone.
When I got home I wrote in my sacred journal: "Dear God, I'm so afraid. Afraid of what's going to happen, afraid of what my ex might do, afraid about money, afraid about work, afraid about all those things. But also something deeper, something bigger. Because if I had a partner and didn't know the future, I wouldn't be so afraid. If I had a partner and wasn't making enough money, I would have someone to talk to, someone to lean on. If I had a partner, I wouldn't be alone. But I am alone."
Then I wrote a list of all the scary things I was alone with. Things like a leaking roof, disappearing savings, and overdue tuition bills. I made a list of things I was afraid to face alone: evacuating in a hurricane, finding my son a new school, deciding to move or not. The list got very long, two pages long.
But then this odd thing happened. A new list began to appear on the page: all the things I was delighted to be alone to experience. I realized I was happy to read alone, to write in the wee hours, to pray in the manner I loved. I was delighted to be alone to plant my herb garden, repaint the dining room orange, watch foreign movies, and eat chocolate for breakfast.
Because I was alone, I could choose where to go to church, what clothes to wear, and what music to play. A page overflowed with all the things I was free to experience precisely because I was alone. Suddenly being alone didn't seem all bad.
Then the prayer did a most amazing thing. It looped around to the realization that although I may be physically alone in my home, or legally alone as a "head of household," I am not alone. Not at all. Because there's me, and my son, and my family and my few true friends. There's my God and the angels. There's the voices of the writers and composers who inspire and move me.
Why, I realized, it's downright crowded in here! And we are all connected. We know this. We hear it in one form or another in all of our worship communities: We are all connected in Spirit. We are all one, which is just another spelling for alone: all one = al-one = alone.
So, if we are not alone, can't be alone, because we are all one in spirit, why do we wallow endlessly in our fear of being alone, alone, alone? Why do we cry ourselves dry wailing, "I'm so alone!"? Why do we rush out to start another relationship when we haven't scratched the surface of healing the old one? Why does this fear of being alone own us? It has to be a universal fear for a reason.
This fear must be telling us something about being human, something about being here. Perhaps this is the concept we are supposed to learn in our human experience. If it is, then perhaps we are blessed when we experience loss, separation, or divorce, because we are forced, at last, to deal with it. And the best way I know to deal with the things I am afraid of is to pray, pray, pray.
So, write a prayer about all the things you are afraid of and why being alone is your core fear. Explore all the ways you could shift your thinking about being alone, how you could befriend this ghost and get comfortable in your own skin.
I have just one word of caution. While you are writing about being alone, do not undo the work by going out or getting busy. To study alone, fully and completely; to make peace with being alone; to befriend being alone; it is important — no, essential — to be alone.
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geographyseries. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner
UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum is a big tent for all expressions
of faith and spirituality, neither excluding nor favoring any.
All opinions expressed belong to the writer alone, and are
not necessarily shared by UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum.