Sometimes when you blog, you have to bare your intentions, so here goes.
I’m not writing this because I want pity.
I’m not writing this because I want people to befriend me because they feel bad.
I’m not writing this because I think it’s the end of the world.
I’m not writing this because I have an idea of how to change it.
I’m not writing this because I have any profound wisdom to share with you.
I’m just going to bare some feelings for you, and I’m going to be brutally honest. To be fair, there is no one person who’s at fault – in fact, my personality mandates that I take responsibility for this, so I do to a certain extent.
I’m really lonely.
Really, really lonely.
I’ve been telling half-truths about my life since I moved to Lexington, but here’s the full on truth: I’m lonely.
There are good parts to life here: there’s always something to do; I’m close to work (and I enjoy my job;) there are killer places to eat, and I live with one of my best friends, but the hardest part (and boy is it hard) is that I’m lonely.
I thought – genuinely – that moving to Lexington would fix my problem of isolation. When I signed the lease on our house, I was dating a beautiful, wonderful girl, so I thought that even if I have a slow, rocky start with making new friends, then I at least had her to hang out with.
A week into my being here, she broke up with me.
Back to square one.
I thought that having a roommate might fix the problem of hanging out with people, but the only roommate I had over the summer was gone most of the time, leaving me at home by myself.
Here’s my biggest problem: I don’t have a go-to person to spend time with. Everyone’s on their own schedule. Most people I know are balancing work, school, church, etc. and it’s insanely difficult to find time to get together. On a really rare occasion, I’ll find a pocket of time to meet with a friend, and we’ll talk for a good couple of hours before one of us has an obligation. For a little while, I feel human. I feel like my deepest human need – community – is met. But then I try to follow up and find another time to sit and talk, to share a meal, or go see a movie, and it becomes a one-off. I try to communicate and let people know when I’m free but then the conversation thread on my phone haunts me because it seems like no matter what, I have the last word. For some reason, nobody gets back when I reach out.
The hardest part about that? Not taking it personally. It’s so easy to. And with a speculative mind like my own, it’s likely to happen.
“Are they really that busy? I see them on their phone all the time. Surely they can’t forget to text me back when they see their phone ad nauseum. For that matter, why doesn’t anyone reach out to me? Why doesn’t anyone try to initiate a get-together with me? Why am I the one trying so hard? Why do I keep putting myself out there? It’s easier to stop trying.”
And then I end up buying into lies about my worth and my value. I start believing nobody likes me. I start believing that people only act like they like me when I’m at work because I’m serving them a good coffee. Hell, I’ve started to forget what it’s like to be human – to be a friend – outside of a coffee shop setting. And it’s exhausting, because I’m an extrovert. I get my energy from people – even if I’m tired and I don’t do or say much, having people around helps me exponentially. I blog because I need to process, but even this doesn’t do it like someone sitting across from me holding their coffee.
The other day, this was bugging me more than ever. I sat down and started to journal all of this out, and I heard the Lord telling me I needed to pick up my guitar and sing. So I began singing this chorus:
“I need You, oh I need You
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need you.”
And I’ve not often sensed the prompting of the Holy Spirit to “sing a new song” (when, spontaneously, you start singing whatever pops into your head about God) but I did then and there, and I sang, “I need Your comfort, I need Your friendship. I need You ’cause I’m weak, and I know You’re so strong.”
I just sang that, over and over and over and over and over and over and over
because it’s true.
Somehow God designed us like this: our deepest need is Him. So that, I believe, is what God was making real sure I knew – before I need friends, or food, or shelter, or clothing – I need Him. But then God also designs us to need each other. Not to the same degree, but for the same reason – the church is how God manifests Himself to the cosmos, which implies that the church is also how God manifests Himself to each other. We need each other because God lives in “each other.” (and by each other, I mean Christians. Don’t want to be a heretic.)
God, I believe, will comfort the lonely in the midst of their loneliness. That’s what I think He did for me the other day. But I think that God also will ultimately comfort the lonely through community, and that’s a need I’m hungry for right now.
It’s the hard part of living in Lexington – the culture is different, because it’s a faster paced city, and everyone has all their own stuff going on. I’m hoping to (And hoping to find others who) prioritize being with people. Having people over. Singing together. Playing games together. Talking. Worshipping. Studying the bible.
I want this more than anything right now.