I am alone.

    Sometimes, alone means being without the presence of others around us, but I am well-reminded of the fact that it is, indeed, possible to be alone even when surrounded by others. This is how it is tonite.

    Others would say to go out, socialize, laugh…be with friends. But they have not erected the walls which constantly surround me.

    There is no way to know when the walls went up…but they are strong and tall and protect me even when I wish it were otherwise.

   It’s not to say that I don’t have friends…I have them to a degree; however, it has become apparent that I’ve become adept at holding people at arms-length allowing not even the closest of them within the confines of these walls which I’ve erected.

   Most of the time, I feel safe here…this is my haven. Other times, I wonder what might happen if I were to reach out…to give….but I find myself unable to do that simple thing. Sometimes, it seems as though the walls that I’ve erected for my own protection have, in fact, become a prison of sorts. I’ve forgotten how to reach beyond…forgotten how to break through.

    It is not self-pity, but fear, that brings me here. Here is safety…no pain, no hurt, no ridicule, and no rejection. The words are my friends…the only ones allowed inside this fortress that protects me…the only thing that I trust fully.

    Somebody once said to me that I had no right to invite others into my life as long as I had children to raise and a responsibility to fulfill. At the time, I scoffed at his words…but now I am not so cocky and quick to disregard what I was told. At some point, I began to wonder that he might be right. Surely that is when the walls began to go up. Quietly they rose from my uncertainty to protect that which I feared the most…my own heart…my own fear of failure.

   At any given time, there are upwards of six teens in this house. They like it here. If that were not enough, there are other friends around who will offer assurances that I’m a good person…that I deserve good things…that I am not alone. But I am alone. While I appreciate their sentiment, their words bounce off of this wall that I’ve created. These are, in my opinion, good people…and I probably should listen. But their assurances are drowned out by my own feelings of inadequacy.

    In a room full of people, the silence is deafening. The wall is invisible…but it is ever-present. It allows me to be part of this world…yet removed from it on a level that keeps me from being hurt. I talk and laugh…even interact with others….but not really.

   There is no pain here…there is only the occasional lonely silence. I tell myself that I prefer it this way…but sometimes I question even that. I consider trying once again to reach out…but the fear of being hurt again pulls me back to the security of that which I’ve come to know and trust…the wall.

   The only question is….how can one truly live unless one feels that hurt on occasion?

arkmomy