Being alone means different things. It can be a solo hike through the woods while you listen to the whisper of trees, commune with the birds, and savor solitude that can’t be found inside walls. It can be a cross-country drive that’s filled with audiobooks, podcasts, and music you refuse to listen to in the company of others. The journey is space for you to settle into who you are before arriving at the destination.

It can be a death in your family 300+ miles away, knowing that all you want is to be there but also knowing that your presence wouldn’t change anything or lessen the pain. It can be a natural disaster in the city that you called “home” for more than six years and feeling completely helpless to do anything to help now that you’ve moved 1000+ miles away. It can be living with two other people, but feeling smothered by their presence because you can’t actually talk to them about how the current circumstances - a pandemic, a tornado in your “home” town, and risk factors in your family - are affecting your emotional well-being. Like I said...alone means many different things. 

And even though the Bible is full of comforting verses that remind us we are “never alone,” it can be hard to feel comforted by words on a page when that “alone” feeling starts to consume you. So what do you do?

Do you eat a pint of ice cream for dinner?

Do you start swiping through Bumble?

Do you start conversations with random people on social media?

Do you crawl into bed and refuse to leave until absolutely “essential”? 

Do you go into over-productive mode and bust out 12-hour workdays?

Do you start reading stories to guinea pigs?

You can do those things...but it won’t help. And I’m speaking from experience. In the moment, some of these options can feel pretty good (especially the ice cream). But they won’t actually do anything to fulfill you. I’m walking through this current season of loneliness with coronavirus, self-isolation, and loads of uncertainty...like you. I have the advantage, though, of having felt this loneliness a few times. Move across the country once or twice and you learn how to cope with different types and levels of loneliness. Here are a few things I’ve learned:

Admit when it’s too much:

I only lived in Minnesota for a year, but I met some amazing people while I was there. Moving away was so hard. When I first landed in Nashville, I did a pretty good job coping. I dove into a busy, full life of grad school…and paired that with a side of rock climbing and church-hunting. About a month after my move, I walked out of a church and I sat in my car...bawling. I called one of my Minnesota friends and bawled to her. I was mourning my community in Minnesota, but filling that hole in my heart with “activities.” Something broke in me that morning and I couldn’t pretend to be fine anymore. She listened with so much compassion and made me feel like my mourning was valid. 

A few weeks ago, I had a rough day. I felt like I was holding myself together pretty well - questions about my job, trying to figure out whether or not I could move, a crazy roommate, being miles away from everyone that I love. And then suddenly, I wasn’t holding it all together. I texted that same friend and said, “Today I feel overwhelmed.” She responded with that same compassion, validating my feelings. Since then, we’ve touched base a few times a week...mutually aware that the “overwhelmed” feeling can creep up at any time. 

Try something new:

Wear a patterned shirt with patterned pants. Try your hand at a fishtail braid. Experiment with sourdough bread. Take up running or yoga or jump rope. The goal here is not to suddenly become an Instagram-worthy expert. It’s to create a space where you’re allowed to make mistakes and laugh at yourself. Right now, my “something new” is sourdough bread. I’ve had a really good run but something went really wrong last night. I woke up this morning and peeked into my bowl to see that nothing happened. The leaven was supposed to triple overnight but...nada. It was the exact same ball of starter/flour/water that I left there the night before. And I laughed at it. I’ll turn that weird little “failure” ball into some flat bread (maybe?) and start something new later this week. It’s new - I’m allowed to make mistakes. And so are you. (Another thing on my list? Headstand. Ha.)

Make connection a priority:

This is not the same as admitting when it’s too much. This is the day to day habit of connecting with someone...anyone. Okay. The person who takes your order at the pizza place down the street doesn’t count. Maybe it’s a Zoom call for work or school where you all take a minute to check in with one another. Or you call up your mom and tell her you might cut your hair (but then she says you’re crazy and that’s a horrible idea...maybe she threatens to tattle on you to your aunt). Maybe you text a picture of your failed sourdough attempt to a friend who’s on a similar baking adventure. Or you play bananagrams with your roommate (while trying to stay six feet away because he just moved here from New York and he’s supposed to be in quarantine...but he lives here). Whatever it is, make sure you connect with someone everyday. It can be small or it can be big. But it needs to be a priority. And, no - posting on social media doesn’t count.

Pray Scripture:

Don’t just read it. Take it in and pray those words. When you’re feeling overwhelmed with loneliness, words on a page might lack meaning. So it’s up to you to give those words a voice....make it a message to God. Not sure where to start? I’ve been hanging out in the Psalms lately. I feel like David and I have a really deep connection in the midst of everything that’s going on. There seems to be this baseline theme of “Life is crazy and overwhelming and I don’t know up from down but God is good.” Here’s my go-to:

God is our refuge and strength, 

A very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,

Though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,

Though its waters roar and foam,

Though the mountains tremble at its swelling.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

The holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;

God will help her when morning dawns.

 The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;

He utters his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord of hosts is with us; 

The God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come, behold the works of the Lord,

How he has brought desolations on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;

He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;

He burns the chariots with fire.

“Be still, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!”

The Lord of hosts is with us;

The God of Jacob is our fortress.

(Psalm 46, ESV)

Friend, the world is constantly changing...now more than ever. It’s easy to feel lost, overwhelmed and alone in these constantly shifting circumstances. But two things are sure: you are never alone and God will never change. If you’re having trouble remembering that, reach out! If you can’t think of anyone or if it feels too big to talk to someone in your life, I’ll listen. You don’t have to feel overwhelmed by loneliness.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Elizabeth spent the past six years doing life in Nashville, TN…from grad school to working in a pie shop to running after school programs. But then she got a little antsy. She’s currently in a season of “wandering”…exploring the people, tastes and experiences that the country has to offer. As she set out on this journey her hope was to engage with people in more authentic ways and to hike everything possible. If you're curious about where she is and what she's up to, visit sunsetsstormclouds.home.blog.