A few months ago, I was open and honest and put it out there for everyone to read. I said I was lonely. I said I didn't have any close friends nearby to hang out with, laugh with, chat with to feel a part of something with.
I was afraid what would happen when I typed those words out. I was afraid no one would hear me, and if they did hear me, maybe no one cared. I was afraid I would confirm that I was truly alone.
The words were straight from my heart. I had tried to hold them back for a while, but truth can't be held back, and they just kept pushing their way out, willing my fingers to strike the keys, spelling out the words that left me completely exposed.
It's human nature to want to be accepted and included and liked and understood. Age matters not, we all crave friendship. Friendship gives us a support system and validates the idea that we are not alone in this world.
I knew not what would happen when I admitted I was feeling isolated and alone; that I wanted to find friends that I could rely on, confide in and have fun with.
The response I received made me so glad that I shared my deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings on this topic. What I heard was, "You are not alone. I feel this way too."
And then, a curious thing happened. Some people that I had only counted as acquaintances or friends in an arms-length kind of way responded to my raw confession of loneliness. It turns out they understood how I was feeling. They, too, were looking to build real, lasting friendships.
We began to talk more, confide more, hang out more. I formed a book club with an eclectic, interesting, engaging group of ladies. I invited other moms from my sons' school to get together for a happy hour and now it's a monthly date. I'm getting to know a new neighbor; we have a lot in common.
I'm not alone. I spoke up. I was honest with my feelings. I reached out. I'm so glad. The truth has set me free. I should have said something earlier. Over and out…