Deep Breath. Here we go. The next words after that bolded “Lonely” down there are my first attempt at joining Lisa Jo Baker in Five Minute Friday. She puts out this lovely invitation every Friday to write for five minutes flat on a prompt that she provides (today it was Lonely), link your post on her linky at her blog, and then leave a comment for the person who linked before you. I have always admired her and the others that join her but I have always been terrified to join them! Write for five minutes without editing?? Without wondering if it sounds “good enough”? Oh my goodness… but I recently wrote like that in a quiet time by myself a few weeks ago and it was freeing… and the words actually flowed easier. I’ll be honest and say this time I paused the timer because I suddenly found myself in the middle of a tiny writing panic attack (insecurities much??!) and out of habit I fixed my typos as I typed… but next time I will be trying to just go straight through :) … giving myself some grace this time and linking up anyway…
Want to join?!? Go here :)
Lonely.
I’m sitting here, turning this word over and over in my head, silently rolling it around on my tongue, like a lemon drop, and I don’t know what to do with it.
Lonely.
Most of the time I think I am not. I crave the silence in this house of three guys and me. The two-year-old never stops talking and the baby never stops wanting the holding and I am almost… never… alone.
I crave alone. And because of my wonderful husband, sometimes I have it.
I pace the floors in the sparse minutes in between all that makes up the daily thing of mothering and I just don’t know what to do most of the time. Something keeps me from all the productive things and there are days that my fingers hover right over the screen and I seep in the news of all the people that I never really see and I realize… craving alone and being lonely can happen right at the same time.
Desperately wanting someone to say “yeah, me too!” when I bare my deepest vulnerabilities, and it almost never happens and the scary risky practice of being bare in front of my friends becomes so hard.
And why can’t we all just say the hard things and bear the truth and carry all our weaknesses right in our hands and hold them out gentle for someone else to see, and why can’t we all let grace just drip from our eyes and say “yes… me, too”?
Let’s stop being lonely…