For as long as I can remember, I’ve always hated being alone. The moment I was born I cried with relief because I was lonely in there. In 3rd grade I used to loiter off sides in my rec soccer games so I could hang out in the shade by the other team’s defense. In 5th grade my older sister slammed her hand in the front door when she was rushing to school one morning and she nearly cut her pinky off. It was a mess and my mom had to take her to the ER. I was told I could stay home alone but the thought of that scared me more than accompanying my sister and her mangled hand to the ER on a Wednesday morning. I don’t ever really have down time, alone. Except for now as I write this in an unusually empty 3 bedroom apartment.
I don’t like eating lunch alone at my desk. It makes me feel like a girl at the beginning of the romcom. I usually eat less when I’m alone because it’s less of an event for me. Eating is social. Or that’s how I was raised. I know it’s fuel but it’s also how I like to spend time with people. If I’m not meeting up with people or cooking for a friend, I’ll probably throw something unexciting together.
But Rachel, why did you move to New York City, the loneliest place on earth? Well, because I want to be famous.
The career path I’m starting out on is long and winding. The arc of it does not necessarily bend towards justice. I’m surrounded by people at my job every day who also want to be part of this industry in a lasting way, and that feels comforting. But sometimes the lack of a ladder is confusing and daunting. When I talk to people about their “path” everyone has different answers. The path I’m on and the one that will sustain me will be lonely for a while. It has to be because there’s no template for what I want. And my dad is not an SNL producer.
There might be some underlying reasons as to why I feel this way. Maybe I lost mom in the grocery store one too many times. Maybe when I was asked out as a joke in the stairwell in 8th grade I feared that people would only over ask me out as a joke, implying a future of loneliness. I later found out that I wasn’t asked out as a joke, I was asked out as a dare. Sort of worse.
But being alone is not only about who you’re with/not with, it’s a mindset. I’ve felt loneliness in crowded bars during open mics where nobody knew I was hilarious and beautiful yet. I’ve felt alone on crowded subways where nobody knew me, at all. And I’ve felt alone when I walked out of the eye doctor, pupils fully dilated, blinded by the sun on 77th and Lex. I didn’t bring sunglasses and they didn’t give me any so I thought I’d have to guess my way back to the subway. Nobody really wants to help a temporarily visually impaired young Jewish girl find her way to the 6 train at 9am on the Upper East Side. And for that I blame the IDF.
I want to get better at this. I want to be comfortable having an afternoon or evening to myself and not feeling like I’m lonely, but just being alone. I don’t want to be dependent on other people to fill the space in my life. But my favorite thing to do in the world is talk and listen. And I can’t do that by myself. Not unless I’m having one of my weird dreams.
Here’s a sad thought, nobody really needs me right now, except for me. People want me in their lives but nobody depends on me, like a kid or a dog or a girl scout with a Thin Mint quota. But I need myself. And that’s what I have to go off of. I need to view the times with no plans as time for me, not empty space. Because if I’m here in a room with my brain and my heart and my lungs and my chipped nail polish, I’m not alone. There’s a ghost who lives in my walls and he wants me to succeed. Either that or he’s the spirit of the frog I got from a bar mitzvah and starved by accident coming back to haunt my life. Whatever! This will all be good material one day.