Be the change you want to see.

Listen... by Ogden Nash

There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, Let me out.

That solitary prisoner
Will never hear reply,
No comrade in eternity
Can hear the frantic cry.

No heart can share the terror
That haunts his monstrous dark;
The light that filters through the chinks
No other eye can mark.

When flesh is linked with eager flesh,
And words run warm and full,
I think that he is loneliest then,
The captive in the skull.

Caught in a mesh of living veins,
In cell of padded bone,
He loneliest is when he pretends
That he is not alone.

We'd free the incarcerate race of man
That such a doom endures
Could only you unlock my skull,
Or I creep into yours.

I used to agree with what Ogden Nash said in this poem.
Used to feel certain that I was alone in my life, that I was a freak and destined for the solitary life, that I'd never have a boyfriend, never fall in love, never know connection or the cessation of loneliness.



I was a lonely child. I had a lot of difficulty making friends. I don't remember any really close friends before 6th grade or so. One friend who was a boy in 5th grade, name of Brian Martin, I was teased unmercifully about for at least 4 years after the last time I'd even seen him. My sister loved to push my buttons. We both have scars. More physical than emotional, I'd guess, but I don't think that living with a sister who had more friends than God helped me in my sense of freakishness and isolation from the rest of the world.

I was a bookworm. My brother, sister, and dad, all were into sports. I started in softball under peer pressure, never enjoyed it much. I could count on one hand the number of times I remember positive things associated with my girls' softball team.

My practice-husband has one good point that I think a lot of adults have forgotten:
Children are sharks. If you don't believe me, station yourself outdoors someday, gardening or pruning or whatever, near wherever the local children meet up to "play".

Yes, they play. But the POWER plays involved are ruthless, cutting at any perceived weakness of the other children, seeking for openings, playing up insecurities or "old" history... They are tiny teenagers. They are trying to make sense of the rules of the world by playing the oldest game in the world, and pardon the play on words: Who's the boss?

It's like high school, or the most ruthless office-job politics you've ever encountered, only worse, because these kids rarely have a notion of fair play or honor, and don't cloak their words for fear of what others will think, as adults often do. In the children's defense, though, they less-frequently backstab. It's much more often they'll trash-talk to your face than gossip behind your back.

Okay, I'm maundering on here. I do have a point, and here it is:

I don't believe this poem is an accurate take on my world-view anymore.
Which is actually a cause for celebration and joy.

I finally have realized the difference between alone and lonely.
I was profoundly, deeply lonely while living in a house with 5 cats and another person.
I have been profoundly, deeply lonely while living with both my parents, people who I have a varied number of proofs of their love and support.
I have been profoundly, deeply lonely, while lying in the arms of a boyfriend, because I tried so damnably hard to convince myself that physical companionship was all that was required to not be lonely. I also had a difficult time convincing myself that I was worthy of waiting for someone who really caught my imagination, heart and mind.

I'm not alone in this, I realize. I have lived through my low self-esteem, finally determined it was not where I wanted to live, and more to the point, figured out where I DID want to live.

Where I do want to live, where I do live.

I live with faith and grace. I live with the knowledge that I am blessed and am awed at the privileges I so often take for granted on a daily basis.

If I'd been born a lass in Zimbabwe or Thailand, would I have had a tenth of these opportunities? If I'd been born a lass in China, there's a better'n even chance I'd never have survived to draw breath, considering the clamping down on birthrates there 35 years ago, and the lack of regard for female children generally in that culture.

I live in a positive attitude. I live with a heart full of gratitude. I live hoping to do the things I love to do, as often as possible with the people I like and love and have more in common with, than I have in common with my birth family.

I am not alone any longer. I know my own value.
My dearest oldest friend, and my favorite ex-boyfriend, I recently realized, harbors a deep regret that he "let me get away." That creates a strange feeling in my heart, not entirely unpleasant.

I am in love for the first time in a decade. That creates a strange feeling in my heart that transcends pleasant.

I have dear friends all around me who I love and who love me.

I may be alone, but I need not feel lonely.

It's good to be me. I know who I am at last.