A Letter to Myself When I’m Lonely
This is part of the "Martha Speaks" series I wrote following my divorce.
Loneliness-inspired turkey burgers and poetry
Dear Martha,
It’s a strange thing to be lonely for someone who doesn’t exist.
I find myself pining for a soulful body with whom to share my time and thoughts. I’m still getting used to living by myself again and I’m sure this misplaced loneliness is simply a symptom of my adjusting to this new life.
I don’t miss Todd, however. No matter how lonely, sad or overwhelmed I get, I can’t bring myself to regret that decision.
Loneliness is an insidious emotion, one that hunches over and whispers in your ear, “You don’t have a person. Something about you has made you this alone.” Hell, even the people in the turkey burger commercial are happily coupled!
Come taste all-natural suburban goodness!
How is it, my darling, that when others write about emotions they are able to spin their words into opalescent tapestries or towering cathedrals, but when I write, all that comes out is some shit about turkey burgers?
Let me share the following poem with you; it has kept me warm many soul-chilly nights —
Song
You’re wondering if I’m lonely:
OK then, yes, I’m lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean
You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely
If I’m lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawn’s first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep
If I’m lonely
it’s with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it’s neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning
— Adrienne Rich
I like the reminder that I am indeed carrying with me “a gift for burning.” It makes me feel I’m yet capable of warmth, of being my own light and source of power.
Yours,
Martha