nine days and counting

Posted April 22nd, 2010 by Michelle

I’ve been lonely most of my life.  I don’t mean that in an overly dramatic, woe-is-me kind of way – it’s just the naked truth.  I was pretty content as a child, with plenty of brothers and playmates and such until about the fifth grade, when I started feeling both awkward and somewhat arrogant at the same time, and it was not a good combination.  I remember thinking, quite clearly, that I was different from everyone else and a little bit special because I was a musician.  I also was really good in school, and I took some pride in that.  I don’t know what other attributes I had that made me a little bit insufferable, but somehow, from that point on, and for many years, I seemed to be around people who felt some combination of apathy, outright dislike, and, weirdly, envy, and it did not lead to good relationships.

As an adult, I’ve been blessed to have a small handful of very close friends, some of whom have been in my life since, almost, day one, and some who have come in and out of my life throughout the years.  But I’ve never felt I had a “crowd”, and in some of my work or social situations, I’ve felt actively left out by the crowd.  True, I chose some cruel situations (like a Hollywood bar where my ruthless wanna-be-actor coworkers made great sport out of mocking me, or a Kansas City “professional” theater where I got singled out for asking actors not to do shots backstage during performances), and really, I wasn’t cut out for such stuff.  At the end of the day, my skin is pretty thin, my emotions float right at the surface at all times, and although I can climb three mountains on no food and no sleep and with horrid stomach cramps, if someone is mean to me for no good reason (and is there ever a good reason to be actually mean?), I’m devastated.

I don’t like big parties, particularly where I don’t know everyone; I often feel more lonely in a crowd than by myself; and I’ve made really poor dating choices.  And I’ve gone through most of my life without feeling really, truly “seen” by most of the people around me.  This has changed a great deal over the last half decade or so, however.  Finding my professional calling and becoming more confident in what I bring to the world and my community has helped me immeasurably (as well as getting out of some really wretched social situations).  But – again – this helped my confidence, not my loneliness.

But for the last year, that stalwart companion of mine, that ever-present specter, that Mr. Ubiquity otherwise known as Loneliness, has not come to visit.  In his place is, of course, my future husband.  It happened so easily and so quickly that I barely even processed the passing of the baton.  I remember what constant, low-grade loneliness feels like, but it’s not currently relevant in my life.  This is a wondrous and terrible thing – because it means that only with Jon was I able to tackle my loneliness.  Before Jon, I tried everything – yoga, beer, meditation, therapy, beer, a stiff upper lip, total denial, total immersion, beer – and nothing worked.  Some days, some months, some years were better than others, but it turns out I was a pot who was missing her lid.  What scares me is, if that’s true, then… well.  I can’t even put into words the unspeakable.

What I can do, however, is be really, really REALLY aware that this blessed human being, this gorgeous soul, this prince of a man chose me, and that nine days from now, he’ll bind his life to mine.  It’s scary that it took him to defeat something I’ve battled with my whole life.  But at the moment, I don’t care.  I’m just grateful beyond words, and I’m counting the minutes until I’m finally his wife.