As I’ve written in other places – really just about everywhere – music is one of the things that makes me feel the most and makes me think the most. What I found myself singing today is Three Dog Night’s “One.” Should you not be familiar with that song the chorus says, “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do.” It doesn’t matter that I know I’m not alone. It doesn’t matter that I, intellectually, know I have loved ones and friends (luckily for me they’re occasionally the same) surrounding me, willing and able to be the support I need in X, Y, Z moment. Even in the middle of a large crowd I on occasion – okay, often – feel like the only person in the world. I feel like nobody’s going to get me, nobody is going to understand. Even when I know that’s not the case I still feel so alone. I’m increasingly grateful for the people I’ve met this week because they’re insistent I’m not alone.
But I’ve found myself apologizing to a lot of people. Not in the step 8, “Make a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all” sort of way, but in the, “Oh my word I’m doing nothing but burdening all these people because of all my all” sort of way. But someone told me this week to, “Let us love you till you can love yourself.” The person who said that to me is insistent there’ll come a time when I believe when others tell me that; a time when I tell myself I love myself.
It’s terrifying right now. It’ll be terrifying for awhile yet. It’s the kind of terror that makes me all the more grateful for the people actively in my life. People I don’t know are not only able, but willing to hold my hand (metaphorically and literally). They’re making sure I’m not reaching for things that’ll harm me. Whether that thing is a knife or a drink these people are helping me to the next part of … whatever this is. They’re helping me do so with minimal damage to myself along the way.