Nicole Kropf

Loneliness is a dark giant that lurks in the corners of my life. I feel its weighty breath on my neck even amidst the bright joyful moments. It reminds me of all the broken bits of my heart and whispers that I’m not worthy of love. Its presence is tangible. When I let down my walls and allow others into the messy room containing my heart, it reminds me that at any time, they could turn and walk away. After all, nothing on earth is permanent.

I invested much of my young life trying to earn my place in the hearts of those around me. I was never overtly talented. I didn’t have the outward beauty that others radiated. I didn’t have remarkable intelligence. I was keenly aware of how little I had to offer. I also received a lot of mixed messages from those around me. When I tried to earn my place in society by being friendly and kind, I was told that it didn’t pay to be too nice. Yet when I stood up for things that mattered to me, I was told that I took everything too seriously. When I tried to make others laugh, some would say that I was immature. But when I didn’t laugh at others’ jokes, I was too uptight. When I worried about my outward appearance by putting on makeup and doing my hair, I was told I was trying too hard. But if I wore comfortable clothes and a pony tail every day, I wasn’t trying hard enough. How can one figure out who to be when everything is contradictory and the underlining message is that being yourself isn’t an option. And if you don’t know who you are, how can you develop loving relationships – since as Glennon Doyle says, “You have to be known to be loved.”

During my university years, I really got to know myself. My university housemates made room for my silliness while allowing me to also explore serious issues. When I was down after the deaths and subsequent funerals of two family members, they put on Christmas music and danced with me until I found a slice of joy. When the heaviness of life was too much to bare alone, they’d stay up chatting (and crying) with me until the early hours of morning. When I showed a bit of my heart, they’d match me and raise me with a piece of their own. They taught me that being myself was an option and that they’d make room for all of me. And for awhile, the loneliness disappeared.

And it stayed away for a long time. It stayed away as I fell in love with my best friend and later married him. It remained hidden away when we surrounded ourselves with friends who really knew us and developed a family at the paintball field. For many good years, my heart rested in the knowledge that I was valued and cared for while valuing and caring for others. Dare I say, life felt easy for awhile and joy was a regular companion.

And then one day, loneliness reared his ugly head during the midnight hours of nursing an infant. He showed up between the overwhelming sweetness of my first child’s firsts. He told me that my life had little meaning outside of being a mom and a wife. His presence poked holes in my confidence and questioned my worth. It taught me that gratitude and longing could coexist. I no longer felt known and valued. I felt useful – definitely but also quite invisible. As I learned the true depth of love – through my relationship with my little ones, I yearned even more to experience those depths in my friendships.

Little by little, I dusted the cobwebs off the edges of my soul and pushed open the doors of my heart to those outside of my home again. I decided that I was going to practice authenticity and trust that others would meet me halfway. And truly, they did. I found a new place of belonging in a group of women from my church. Together we were honest about our struggles and celebrated our successes. We laughed a lot – cried too. These sisters gave me back my confidence that I didn’t have to earn my place in the world. They reminded me that our worth is innate.

At the same time, I read a book that reminded me that the act of loving others is the only investment that truly matters. I decided that all I wanted was to live a life of love. And with seemingly perfect timing, a new friend arose in my life. We developed an easy camaraderie and became frequent flyers in the details of one another’s lives. We talked about everything and nothing. And we loved one another well. On multiple occasions, I whispered to my friend, “don’t break my heart.” I jumped in with both feet and the motivation to love extravagantly. And I found love in return and thus followed fear in equal measure – fear of losing that which had made me whole again. You see, the act of loving motivates us but being loved sustains us.

When the tides of life shifted again, my friend sailed in a different direction. My heart broke open with that loss. The timing of my friends departure aligned with some other heavy life stuff – my son’s turbulent entry into school, some dear ones health concerns, the rise of my anxiety. All moments when only love could sustain. Loneliness saw his opportunity. He showed up with his snide I-told-you-so grin and pointed out the fact that when I had tried to love big, I failed big. He taunted me and made me retreat to the place in my brain where old lies hid. The lies that told me I was simultaneously not enough and entirely too much. The lies that shouted that I was too inherently flawed as a human to ever be worthy of those beautiful depths of friendships.

I had read that gratitude and sadness couldn’t coexist so I began a gratitude project. In thinking of people who had impacted my life and writing to them with gratitude, I found that the pain of loss did ease and that I felt less alone. I even had the opportunity to reconnect with a friend who I hadn’t seen in 15 years – who was one of the brightest spots of my time in high school. Reconnecting with him is one of the things for which I’m most grateful today. You see, the promise of connection lights up the darkened corners, commands for loneliness to hide away, and silences his lies. Looking into the eyes of others allows us to glimpse the face of God. Walking toward unity with others is always walking toward heaven. We long to love and be loved because it is written into our DNA. It is our human purpose. For me, love and fear walk hand in hand. Where there is great love, there is the opportunity for significant loss. But when given the choice between loving and losing or living a life of loneliness, I’ll continue to choose love every time.