The Lonelies were my enemy. For the most part I was able to keep them at bay. I was so busy being a mom and a student and trying to survive divorcing an abuser that I didn’t have time to feel lonely. But in the still of the night, in the dark of my bedroom, The Lonelies crept in to tear at my soul. It was just another version of hell to live through:
The Lonelies have hit again.
I hate this. I really do. I hate the near desperation that I feel to touch another adult. I hate that my fingers itch to feel skin under them. I hate how it’s a physical yearning for something I can’t have. And I really hate that I know that only a man will do to help this feeling go away. I don’t want to have to need a man for any reason.
People tell me to snuggle the kids or take it to God. It doesn’t help. Snuggling up with one of the kids doesn’t take care of that yearning to be close to a man. Those words always feel trite and not helpful. I’ve prayed about it and God isn’t taking the yearning or the sensations away.
I lie in bed and wonder what it would be like to roll over and feel a strong body beside mine. When I’m cold, I wonder what it would be like to snuggle up to someone who would lovingly wrap his arms around me and warm me up. I wonder what it would be like to wake up in the morning with a hand on my hip. I don’t know what any of that is like. I want that.
Bubba and I didn’t sleep together because he snored so badly that I couldn’t sleep at all. He snored so loudly that he would often wake me up from down the hall (with two bedroom doors shut between us). Off and on over the years, we’d try to sleep together, after a huge fight. He would complain that we had no intimacy in our marriage because we didn’t sleep together. I would argue that sleeping beside each other – when both of us were asleep – did not build intimacy. Intimacy was lacking in our marriage because well, he was abusive. I used to think it was my fault that we didn’t have that intimacy. I’d try to sleep with him and I’d move to the couch part way through the night. Then he’d yell at me the next day for moving. He never cared that I couldn’t sleep. It was only important that we sleep in the same bed. I was expected to give up sleeping in order to be beside him at night. Thankfully, he would quickly give up and go back to sleeping with the boys.
And right now, I just want strong arms to hold me and take the pain away. To help ease it, at least. To show me that I’m not alone. Why, after all that has happened at the hands of a man, do I want a man? Why am I turning into a helpless damsel in distress and why do I want a knight in shining armor to come rescue me? It makes no fucking sense to me at all.
The lonelies have struck with a vengeance. I’m alone. I’m lonely. It feels oppressive. It weighs on my soul.
I want to be loved. I want to be cherished. And it hurts so bad that I never was.