Loneliness and anxiety have haunted me since my earliest childhood memories. I’ve done a lot of inner work to arrive at a point where I often feel free of the burden of these pernicious demons. However, I am very sensitive to the way they can show up for me day to day. A large reason I started journaling was to help me feel that I’m not alone.

When I journal, I become aware of spirit inside of me that assures me that I am Whole. My body is not an abandoned house, rather it is a temple of light. I am the priestess of my own body, and each day, I seek to be a better steward of my light than I was the day before.

The other day when I came down with a cold, I was in bed all day. Loneliness and anxiety decided to keep me company. I could feel the beginnings of a mild form of depression coming on. I told myself the next day would be better. I would feel stronger and ready to engage with the world again.

This is what I wrote in my journal the following morning:

I just finished reading Circe by Madeline Miller. I’m feeling much better than yesterday, and I know that it is largely due to resting in bed all day, even though, for me, it felt depressing to do nothing. My mind was troubled by fears, doubts, and loneliness. I have plans to hang out with friends tonight, and the loneliness was not impressed.

In fact, the loneliness makes me not want to see anyone. Under the influence of loneliness, I shield my eyes from others, make vague statements, and hurry away from company as quickly as I can whenever I am compelled to interact with others.

I woke up with the damn loneliness curled around my heart like a faithful parasitic anaconda. My internal sense of emotional drama kicked in and wailed debilitating questions about the future that I have no answers to.

 This energy parasite is super melodramatic. If it had it had a body of its own, it would beat its chest and pull out its hair. As it is, it can suck the life force out of me in no time at all. I said a quick prayer asking for help to transcend.

Thankfully a wiser part of me gently guided me to reach for my nearest comforts. “Drink your water and coffee. Finish that book where the protagonist willingly trades in her eternal life for a mortal one.”

So I fed the cat and took the advice of my inner wise woman.

I read and allowed my gift for merging with story to take over. At one point towards the end of the book, the heroine mentions rhododendrons. Out of nowhere, I could feel my spirit trilling,

Rhododendrons!

How I love rhododendrons!

What a thrill I get each spring when this part of the world blows up with rhododendrons!

The promise of next year’s wild, ecstatic profusion of rhododendrons calls out to me with a freshness I can feel inside, and my spirit rises up in excitement. I feel like I’ve been granted a sip of the gods’ nectar, and my heart laughs to enjoy this simple liberating pleasure.

With these optimistic thoughts, I return to my jaunty self.

I rise to greet the sun with yoga and children.