“Saturday Night”

I live in a part of town that has lots of 20- and 30-somethings. Not a lot of kids, some couples. Mostly it's just a bunch of people who are young and not interested in living out in suburbia. I won't say drug use and alcohol abuse is rampant--I've lived in places where that was true--but going out and drinking, that's pretty normal behavior where I'm at. Hell, getting fucked up is pretty normal behavior for most people--Shh! Don't tell the deniers who live in the suburbs!

Last night I was doing my laundry and watched a group of people from a neighboring apartment head out for the local bar. One of the gals said hi to me and commented on how I was doing laundry, saying something slightly sarcastic, but also slightly sympathetic. My response? Well, what do you want? Laundry needs to get done, the machines are usually free Saturday night, and hey, when you don't drink, going out on a Saturday loses a lot of its glamour.

When my laundry was done, I went out for a run. After I got back, I sat out in front of my apartment to recuperate. Another crowd walked by, also on their way out to have a good time. Suddenly I was struck by a heavy wave of loneliness and a strong wishing for a group of friends to go get smashed with.

I remember something I've heard shared time and time again in the rooms, something I've said myself during my own shares and chairs. We talk about wanting to be 'a part of'. We feel lonely, alone, outcast, so we get fucked up and suddenly have a whole group that we fit in with, a crowd we belong to. For me, there was some of that when I was out there, but not a lot. It seemed like a lot to me because it was more than I'd ever had.

Most of my life has been pretty lonely, and I've written about that in this space before. Having the fellowship is helpful, and I feel very grateful for the friendships I have found in the program. For the most part, they're honest relationships with people where I've been able to trust the bond to be what it seems to be. Whether it's a deep friendship or a casual acquaintance I know not to take too seriously, I know where things stand between us. That's more than I can say for most people outside the rooms.

Some people get into the Recovery journey and fall right into the middle of huge groups of friends. They learn how it feels to actually be a part of, be honestly accepted, and they learn true acceptance of themselves. Some people, like myself, get only some relief and discover what so many others who have gone before us have learned--that sobriety can be a very lonely path to walk. A friend of mine from the fellowship and I talked about this over dinner just yesterday evening. Maybe that's why the subject was on my mind.

There have been plenty of people not in sobriety who have commented on the loneliness of life; it's not a new phenomenon. I don't have any answers for those who feel this feeling strongly, as I do. At least nothing more than the usual: this too shall pass; don't act out of fear of always being alone; keep working on yourself, keep working to improve your ability to be good to and love yourself.

One time, after going through a really hard period of loneliness, I had a friend suggest I reward myself for staying clean & sober through it. My solution was to go rescue a cat from the pound. I've had her a year and a half now, and having her definitely helps my home to not feel like such a lonely one.

Speaking of the Sheena, I should mention that, while I was writing this blog, laying on the couch typing it on my smartphone, she came and snuggled up with me. Maybe she sensed my loneliness. Maybe she wanted company herself. Maybe she just wanted to be petted and I was handy.

Whatever works.