I got sick last week, and the funny thing about this particular sickness was I lost my voice along with all the other icky stuff I had to go through. This made me fall silent for almost five days, and that’s a feat, because if you know me in real life, I always talk. But there, I lost my voice, so I didn’t speak much last week. Thank goodness for social media, I guess, so I wasn’t completely quiet?
Anyway, the one thing I really don’t like when I’m sick is how it can get pretty lonely. Which is silly, because I was surrounded by people at home, and at work when I got to work. I was never really alone, but I still craved a specific kind of company. Not exactly a specific person — not now, not anymore, anyway — but you know, just someone. Outside of my family and friends who would ask how I was, and would take care of me, too.
I remember one time when I had the flu, and I was feeling terribly sad and lonely at home. And then I had the craziest craving for McDonald’s Twister Fries, and I wished like crazy that someone would bring me some. You know, bring me some at home. Again, I wasn’t really looking for a specific person to do it, but I knew then that I wished I had someone who would do that for me, even without my asking. Or you know, someone who saw what I posted online and would be nice enough to bring me some.
I wished there was a guy (there, I said it) who would be concerned about my health, too, and would take care of me when I get sick.
I wished that there was someone who’d bring me sick day food when I get hit by the flu, or asthma, or allergies. Someone who’d go out of his way and visit me home.
My brother brought home some fries later that day, and I was happy. But I still couldn’t shake off that feeling of loneliness that had long settled in while I was being all whiny. It sucks to be sick and to feel alone all at the same time. Even if I wasn’t really, completely alone.
Being sick can make someone feel the craziest kind of longing.
It’s silly, you know, how these lonely spells can feel like it’s the truth. How easily we get convinced that we need a specific person to make us feel less lonely. How we tend to disregard the presence of other people in our life because we want just one person. We put so much expectation on that person, whether we know him or not, and we end up being disappointed when that person cannot fulfill the need we thought they would feel. And then we get lonely all over again.
There was a time I went out with some girl friends, and after I had cried a little, one of them said, “Don’t forget you are loved. We all love you. God loves you. Don’t let this experience make you think you are less loved, because you are not.”
It wasn’t anything new, really — I knew all of that. But somehow, it’s so easy to forget. When my ego gets bruised, when my heart gets broken, the first thing I always seem to forget is how much I am loved. Instead, I focus on that one love I wanted, the I won’t really get anymore. I know it’s normal (and healthy, even) to feel bad and to cry over things such as heart break, but I think it’s also as important to remember that even if that one person doesn’t love me the way I wished he would, there are still people who love me. Who still love me. Who never stopped loving me, even if I was a complete mess.
You see, even in our loneliest moments, we were never unloved. We have always been loved.
It’s so easy to forget. But it’s the truth. And you have to fight everyday to remember it.
The good thing is, you aren’t alone in fighting to remember it, either. The people who love you? They will fight along with you to make sure you know they love you, too.
* * *
I was on a Hunter Hayes kick last week. While listening to his album, I realized that his song Wanted would be perfect for this next writing project I had already outlined. I listened to it several more times for more feels, of course, and somehow, the song started to become more about me instead of just my next project. As I was humming the song one day, I started to feel a little melancholic.
On the umpteenth listen,1 I sighed and prayed softly, “Lord, I wish someone would want me.”
Then in the silence (because I still had no voice then), I heard the most gentle whisper in my heart, in the place where The One who made me always speaks: “I want you. I have always wanted you. I will always want you.”
- Oh, I’ve stopped playing the song on repeat as of this week. Sort of. [↩]