Therapy has a wild way of unearthing the narrative I didn’t know I was telling myself.
On the surface I just wanted to do fun things. Take a weekend trip to Disneyland. Go to Europe. Take another weekend trip to Disneyland. Go on another trip to Europe. Then take a trip to Walt Disney World. All fun things!
But under the surface, I knew there was something stirring inside me. My mind held onto the thought that maybe I’m running away. More than likely, I’m afraid of being alone and having nothing to do so why not leave and at least be doing something I love.
I felt like there was some kind of connection. Something that wasn’t quite right- or maybe something being overlooked- that I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Then Meighan asked me what is the message I’m telling myself as I plan these trips to leave, to go away. And before she even finished asking, my entire life flashed before me like a stop motion movie and I knew immediately how to identify exactly what I was feeling.
When I was a child, I lived at my grandma’s house, which was family central. There was always a cousin, an aunt, or an uncle nearby. Maybe a family party to be had. Maybe extended family members who needed a place to stay temporarily. There were renters and other families and people- always people! I can’t recall a time ever being alone in that house. I was always surrounded by people who loved me from the minute I was born.
After my parents got divorced, Cassie, my mom, and I lived together in a small one-bedroom apartment. We were teenagers, but we still squeezed our way onto a king size bed. All throughout high school, it was us three. Always us three. I was with the people I loved.
In college I always lived on campus in the dorms. Freshman year I had a roommate and 24 hallmates. Sophomore year I had a roommate and 40+ hallmates. Junior year I had a roommate and 18 hallmates. Then finally senior year I finally moved into campus apartments where I had 2 roommates and 2 others who lived in the second bedroom. I was always surrounded by people! These were the ones I grew to love.
Moving to Hawaii I lived with uncle Mark and auntie Julie. On one side of my bedroom was Lynnie and on the other side was Maci. I moved to a place all on my own ready to start my adult life, but I was always with the people who loved me enough to make sure I started that life with enough support.
After that, I moved into a house with friends turned roommates. There was always someone nearby. These were the people I knew would hear me if I screamed whenever a cockroach crawled through my room. I loved having someone nearby to help me fight off the flying ones.
And now I’m on my own.
My cousins, aunts or uncles. No Cassie or mom. No roommates or hallmates. No uncle Mark or auntie Julie. No friends. Just me.
So that entire timeline flashed through my mind, and even before I could process what I had seen I started to choke up. Because in each season of my life I saw myself surrounded by people I loved and people who loved me, but now I’m on my own surrounded by no one.
The message I’ve been telling myself is that I am alone because I am not loved.
Because when I was with cousins, aunts, and uncles, I was loved. When I was with Cassie and mom, I was loved. When I had roommates and hallmates, I was loved. With uncle Mark and auntie Julie, I was loved. Even with friends turned roommates, I was loved. Now I am on my own, which means I must not be loved.
And leaving for a weekend trip to Disneyland. Exhausting all my PTO to go to Europe. Leaving on another trip to Disneyland. Then going to Europe again. All of this is to avoid being alone. Because at least if I’m doing something fun in a place that I love, then maybe it’ll sugarcoat the hard truth that I am alone and no one loves me.
Except that’s not the truth.
I know it in my head, and I just need to believe it in my heart.
I might be alone, but I am still loved. So deeply and incredibly and irreplaceably loved.