Have you heard people say “you can be surrounded by a lot of people, and still feel lonely.”?

It’s a thing. It really is. I am always surrounded by people, whether I’m at work, a weekly workout, or the races I love to do. I am surrounded by friends, family, and work family, all the time.

Loneliness is something that is felt deep in your soul.

It’s at the base of who you are. I’m not sure if I am explaining this right.

Imagine this. You meet the person of your dreams, at age 17. You fall into LIFE with them. (Yes, “life”!) You grow INTO each-other, rather than away from each other, in every possible way. You are never alone. Even if they go out of town for work, you are never alone. You have them. For 16.5 years, you have them. For almost half of your life, there you are, growing, and thriving together, loving, and living, teaching and learning.

Then one day, they’re gone.



No more.

Not by choice.

Not because they moved on, and left you, while they live happily ever after with someone else.

But gone.

Really gone.

Now, just try to imagine how easy loneliness comes.

Imagine making a connection with someone, even if it’s just briefly. A connection that makes you feel a little human again, even if just for 30 minutes.

I’ll be the first to say this, and please… no. Just bare with me, here. I won’t ask you to forgive me. I won’t ask you not to judge me. I won’t ask you to keep your comments to yourself.

I’ll be the first to say, I doubt I’ll ever marry again. I doubt I’ll ever meet a man worthy enough, after Mitch.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like to have sex. (PS, Meg might read this, and for anyone who doesn’t know, Meg and I talk very openly, without crossing boundaries.) I like sex. I love people, and going out. I like to mingle, and I am also perfectly fine coming home alone. I am so very very picky, that it’s easy to come home alone.

No matter what I do, or who I do it with, I will be lonely, so I will continue to be extremely picky, in my choices.

I just had DeJaVu, while typing this, followed by my memory of making breakfast one Saturday morning, for Mitch and Meg, while I told Mitch about this awful dream I had. In this dream, I was writing about how lonely I was. And I knew it was because he died.

Now that I think about it, Meg and I were both “prepped” for the death of one of us. Meg dreamed a LOT about me dying. She only ever had one dream of Mitch passing. I dreamed of Mitch Dying, but not of his death. I dreamed of the little things that came after. Like my kitchen, my apartment, writing this fucking blog.

I have had dreams of Meg dying, but those were different. They were almost like a desensitizing kind of dream. The ones of Meg were in color, and very vivid, and horrible.

I would wake up, heart racing, tears falling, and I’d go kiss my little girl, and thank the stars that she was still alive. The dreams of Meg, I’d see her die, right in front of me, and the ones of Mitch were the aftermath.

The feelings I would come to endure. The overwhelming, unpredictable moments of complete weakness. (I’m okay with being weak, sometimes. I accept it.)

So, as you read this, just know, even the people who look to be surrounded by many, can still be lonely.

Don’t take your spouse for granted. Cherish every moment, even if that moment is you shoving their leg off of your legs, because your feet are falling asleep. Even if it’s their beard hair being left in the sink, every time he shaves, or the toothpaste in the sink, or dirty dishes in the kitchen, the dirty socks on the living room floor.

All of these things are precious.

All of them.

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