"The sole cause of man's unhappiness is he is unable to sit quietly in his own room"
-Blaise Pascal
I've had this quote on a sticky note on my computer for over a year. From rhetoric. And I had it there as a daily reminder that I was completely incapable of being alone. Doing anything alone. I was gripped by this fear that I had to constantly surround myself with people or I would be forgotten. I would cease to exist. I don't really understand it. But, I made every effort constantly to avoid being forgotten, alone, abandoned. It used to be a joke that I couldn't eat dinner alone. Which was true. If it came to that, I didn't eat dinner.
And something happened this summer. Once you ARE alone, and are completely abandoned--and forgotten, you learn it isn't as scary as it seemed. I began spending time alone. Mostly in my car, but I had those early mornings to myself, and then began treasuring the moments in my house when everyone was gone. I became a loner. And I liked it. I started turning down offers to hang out. To go out, to spend late nights at someone's house in favor of reading in my bed until I fell asleep. I was not a people person. Conversations exhausted me, and seemed to drain all my energy. I liked thinking things in my head and not saying them out loud.
In essence, it was the complete opposite of myself.
Here I've found a happy medium. I work all day in an office with 100+ people spending all of my time with endless phone calls, emails, facebook, and texting. I am now working a job and an internship that requires me to be overly communicative. It's fantastic. And I live in a house of 14.
And I treasure my alone time. Yesterday I walked 3 miles to my favorite coffee shop, and worked there for several hours. By myself. And walked home, getting completely lost, getting soaked by a sprinkler, taking over an hour, and enjoying every minute of it. (My injured knee, however, did not).
For those of you who know me, the thought of me walking 3 miles alone and spending time at a coffee shop alone might shock you. (OH! AND my phone was dead.) I only wish I knew how to surf better because I now appreciate why people would enjoy disappearing for hours to surf alone. (Another shocking concept).
I've learned to embrace solitude, while reconciling it with my extremely outgoing personality. I think the reason is, even when we are alone, we never really are. Solitude means spending time with the One who captures our hearts.
It's quickly become my favorite part of the day.
Yet I LOVE those moments with these people. Today was an absolutely fantastic day. I have quickly bonded with my Midwest Roadies--we watched an incredible documentary, and I had a dance party with my interns in a 15 passenger van. Then, I had a heart warming talk with someone who has been an incredible light and example of Christ's love to me. Thank you Nate.
I think tomorrow I may eat dinner alone.
Finally, a quote from Garden State, I'm starting to realize, there may actually be nothing wrong with me.
-Blaise Pascal
I've had this quote on a sticky note on my computer for over a year. From rhetoric. And I had it there as a daily reminder that I was completely incapable of being alone. Doing anything alone. I was gripped by this fear that I had to constantly surround myself with people or I would be forgotten. I would cease to exist. I don't really understand it. But, I made every effort constantly to avoid being forgotten, alone, abandoned. It used to be a joke that I couldn't eat dinner alone. Which was true. If it came to that, I didn't eat dinner.
And something happened this summer. Once you ARE alone, and are completely abandoned--and forgotten, you learn it isn't as scary as it seemed. I began spending time alone. Mostly in my car, but I had those early mornings to myself, and then began treasuring the moments in my house when everyone was gone. I became a loner. And I liked it. I started turning down offers to hang out. To go out, to spend late nights at someone's house in favor of reading in my bed until I fell asleep. I was not a people person. Conversations exhausted me, and seemed to drain all my energy. I liked thinking things in my head and not saying them out loud.
In essence, it was the complete opposite of myself.
Here I've found a happy medium. I work all day in an office with 100+ people spending all of my time with endless phone calls, emails, facebook, and texting. I am now working a job and an internship that requires me to be overly communicative. It's fantastic. And I live in a house of 14.
And I treasure my alone time. Yesterday I walked 3 miles to my favorite coffee shop, and worked there for several hours. By myself. And walked home, getting completely lost, getting soaked by a sprinkler, taking over an hour, and enjoying every minute of it. (My injured knee, however, did not).
For those of you who know me, the thought of me walking 3 miles alone and spending time at a coffee shop alone might shock you. (OH! AND my phone was dead.) I only wish I knew how to surf better because I now appreciate why people would enjoy disappearing for hours to surf alone. (Another shocking concept).
I've learned to embrace solitude, while reconciling it with my extremely outgoing personality. I think the reason is, even when we are alone, we never really are. Solitude means spending time with the One who captures our hearts.
It's quickly become my favorite part of the day.
Yet I LOVE those moments with these people. Today was an absolutely fantastic day. I have quickly bonded with my Midwest Roadies--we watched an incredible documentary, and I had a dance party with my interns in a 15 passenger van. Then, I had a heart warming talk with someone who has been an incredible light and example of Christ's love to me. Thank you Nate.
I think tomorrow I may eat dinner alone.
Finally, a quote from Garden State, I'm starting to realize, there may actually be nothing wrong with me.
