You can get so used to being alone, that anything other than alone just feels wrong.
But not just feels wrong.
It can feel like you're doing something wrong.

Being connected with others is to learn a new language. To be in a foreign land. Everything is different. Culture, customs, the spoken and unspoken.
It is a process to learn how to be un-alone, and like it.

So many situations and circumstances can lead to aloneness and isolation:

Some people are alone because there are literally no people around them. Somebody who grows up in the woods, surrounded only by the wild.

Some people are surrounded by crowds, maybe live in a big city and are never actually solitary, but they feel faceless amongst so many.

Others grow up in tight-knit families, but can never be themselves because requirements and expectations for being accepted are so high, lest the whole family unravel. They live as an unknown.

Still, others grow up in in families whose structure is built on absence. They are a closed community with no support within or without. These people fend for themselves emotionally, trust no one, and sometimes might have to fight off attackers from inside their own "circle."

Or, maybe, a person grows up in a stable family, but something so far outside of the norm happens to them nobody in the community can identify with it. With the discomfort, responses and plans with others become less and less . Eventually, there is no contact with anyone anymore.

There are probably as many causes, and stories, of what leads to living life alone and disconnected as there are people who are, or feel, alone and isolated. People, and the stories within them, have layers and layers.

I think a lot more people live as lone wolves than any of us like to think.
Even the lone wolf sort. Especially, the lone wolf sort.

Chronic, long-term aloneness breeds this sort of insular world of containment in which everybody else, no matter who they are or what their intentions, becomes a threat.
This means we might bump into another "lone wolf" and be confronted, face-to-face, with the crisis of our own loneliness.

We might have been alone for so long, loneliness has become stale and dull to the point it's no longer even felt. But a brush with another spirit wakens it.
Once we are SO alone, the belief is that we must stay alone.

It's as if life depends on it.

***

I don't think it's true that being alone for a lifetime is the best way to be safe, happy, and fulfilled, but of course, logic doesn't always trump all.

When I first started showing up here, I was alone.
Showing up was a risk, something new, and a commitment.
It was a challenge, but it wasn't terribly difficult.
I wasn't really worried about the things I said here.
It was fairly easy to expose in-the-moment feelings.

I didn't think anybody would see or hear me, so it was doable.
It was like I was in a den or cave, and would come outside to stretch for a bit. Nibble at something. Maybe even stay out late for a rare sunset that hadn't been seen in years. That felt amazing, life-giving, even exhilarating.
Still, there wasn't really the possibility in my mind that anyone would be watching.
And, most certainly, watching and waiting.

Throughout the days, as I started to connect in these new ways with myself, other people started showing up. People inside me, at the very least. People with lives of their own, their own experiences, opinions and judgments.
That was interesting. Some different paintings evolved from that.
Showing up got a little more edgy when things started connecting inside myself, but I started to feel free.

Then it happened.
The real-deal, stay away, I'd-rather-die-than-be-in-this-danger, danger.
But I couldn't die this time.
I had to stay. I had to show up.

It was like predators could smell my blood.
One by one their unseen presence inched their way to the edge of my space.
Things started to break apart in me because I didn't want to give up that feeling of freedom from coming out of my cave.
The idea of slinking back with my head low and tail ducked suddenly didn't feel ok to me anymore.
I stood my ground.

And then.....
Then the voices of tormentors moved in so close they were whispering in my ear.

This is what they said:
"Bitch! You're a bitch." Not just once, but repeatedly.
"Bitch." This background word plays on a rolling reel, as the rest stream in.
"Shut up, you're trash and have no right to speak. You have no right to be alive in the light."
"You're an evil, greedy control freak."
"You're worthless, you always were."

The orders are to to go back to my cave where I came from.
There was a lot of posturing from them. Multiple charges.

Every day last week I came here to show up, they were here before me.
Watching, waiting, following every move.

I knew they could take me down. They've taken me down before.
I've even half-folded back into their pack a time or two, believing they were justified and safe enough, only to have them eat me alive from the inside out, and leave me for dead.

***

So...I don't know all of what is ahead for me.
I do know that writing, that showing up today has been a lot lighter, and not as scary.
I guess I'm not hiding my face from the sun.
The dense tangle of melting is softening as I write this.
I hear my voice, connected to the light.

It's a true struggle to show up and hide.
It almost can't be done at all.

I'm deciding to take on the risks of walking out my cave to frolic in the meadow.
Caves are beautiful and enchanting. A lot of goodness and story and internal growth can happen in them.

But my favorite place is the meadow, the riskiest place of all.
Open and exposed to predators and the elements.
It's also the place to graze, bask in the sun, dance, and dream with your eyes open.

Maybe I love the meadow so much because the name given to me at birth was Heather.
It's my true home, and I'm returning to it. I might live and die here, but I will be seen, heard, know myself and be known for who I really am.

I might be referred to as "plain old Heather," but my species tends to blanket the meadow, as a whole, in a beautiful spread of color.

I have a relationship with beauty in the world.

This is me, and who I will continue to be, even as I mature.
I support the connection of life and transformation across all of nature.
It is what I live for.

So, if you see a wolf, or a butterfly, or a field mouse, or a bear...or a person out and about, please hand him or her a flower from your heart.
It's a magical place to start!

Note:
I love personal alone time and space in the meadow. I don't believe being alone, in and of itself, is inherently bad. In fact, it can be useful, healing, and maybe even necessary for everyone in varying doses, depending on personality, interests, and circumstances. Alone time can be a luxury. What I mean here by "alone" is in regard to chronic isolation, which, I do not love or believe to be healthy.

Breaking out of chronic isolation and/or abuse can feel very conflicting, confusing and even "wrong," for so many reasons.
I will continue to challenge this and reach out.

I have a calling to use my voice, be myself in relationship with the light, and support beauty within and between people in the world.

***This is the first trail update written during the daytime, and it actually is a golden afternoon!***