One of the greatest fears that the people I see in my practice have when it comes to making decisions is loneliness.
Loneliness looms over us like a threat when we don’t want it, and it becomes a fierce enemy that pushes us down a cascade of negativity and dark thoughts, in which the most gruesome scenes appear to us, tinted a deep blackish grey like a thick fog, as we take it for granted that life has cast us aside.
Everyone around us has company and is happy, and we are alone; self-pity has taken over the stage of the mind and there is no room for hope.
To me there are two kinds of loneliness, and the one you live in company is the one that creates our deepest fears.
I have sometimes felt this way: I have officially had company, with a partner or with family, I could feel someone breathing in my bed, or hear the sound of the television in the living room, and I knew I was alone. That piercing, threatening loneliness terrifies me.
That crazy thought appears: if I died, would they even notice?
There is nothing more chilling than feeling alone in a relationship, or in a family. You cannot escape that loneliness, you cannot go out and experience life because you have to be there, you cannot even complain, but you know you are alone, that the person breathing beside you is not going to give you anything, does not fill your loneliness, does not share with you, does not listen to your tears.
A few days ago I found myself alone, utterly alone, thousands of kilometres from my city, in a country in South-East Asia, in the middle of the jungle.
Life surrounded me on all sides; it throbbed intensely, as only nature in its wildest state can. I could hear the sound of the wild animals, the warm breeze on my face, kindly running over my body too, an incredible feeling of life.
I decided to talk, to take part. I talked to the locals, to people, to that woman who opened her heart to me and offered me her home, to the victims of the tsunami, to the girls who had come from Istanbul to party and let their hair down; I had dinner with an Iranian couple, sang traditional Russian songs and swam in the sea, playing with the children and with the not-so-young.
And I thanked God for being able to be alone so that I could have all those experiences. I felt alive, part of life; I was life, and it had by no means cast me aside: it throbbed inside me and all around me and invited me to take part. I was in happy company and everything opened up again, vibrant and full of possibilities. I set the intention; life took care of the rest.
Set the intention, let go, take part and let life take care of you. Get in touch with me if you need therapy for depression.
