I am alone. No more have I ever felt it. Alone. It echoes.
My immediate family is 2,400 miles away. I have no boyfriend, no husband, and no children. I am alone.
I’ve had this feeling before.
Some days, this feeling is about being single. There are a lot of times it’s about that, but today, it’s not.
Today, it’s deeper. It feels like a questioning of faith, of who I am.
I was in a car accident last week. I was hit pretty hard from behind, while sitting in rush hour traffic, and a week later I am still feeling sore, back spasming, not able to work a full day, struggling to figure out all of this insurance paperwork, and generally feeling really awful. I can’t sit up for more than a few hours without discomfort. I can’t dance. Can’t run. I’m in pain.
My heart is in pain as well. I go through periods of feeling very grateful for the friends and extended family who have offered me solace and brought me magazines, coffee, and company in my time of need. Then, something switches, and I let the sadness swallow me and I forget about those people; I sink into the void. The void is a dangerous place. It’s thick and black. It’s a place that keeps me very still, very quiet, and obscures my vision with heavy tears. It’s a pity party to the nth degree. And I must face it alone. Have you ever felt this way?
If I am injured and I can’t move, what good am I? In the last several years, the word movement has become one of the words that defines me. I have belly danced my way into discovering my femininity. I have salsa danced my way into understanding my sensual side. I have run straight into an athletic part of me that I never knew existed. Without those, I struggle to connect the dots that make up Becky.
Yes, I am a writer. Yes, I am a sister, a daughter, a friend, a unique spirit. But it has always been a choice to wear whatever hat I needed at the time. When those hats go from dozens to merely one, victim, in a matter of seconds, it’s jarring. And alone, I must figure out what to do with that. It’s not scary, but it is emotional. It’s this alone time that I should take to figure out the answers to the questions that we should all ask ourselves. Who am I? Why am I here?
I can see the light at the end of this, but I must accept the void as part of myself before I get there. It’s a dusty road, the grime clouding my eyes. Slowly, they will clear, but if someone could keep an eye on my glasses along the way, I would be grateful.