Alone but Not Lonely

It’s not unusual for me to wake up and be the only one at home. I live with several other humans, but our work schedules are on opposite ends of the day so they’re home when I’m not and I’m home when they aren’t. This set up is totally fine with me. I like having the house to myself for a few hours. It’s a nice way to slow down and have some time alone in a household that, while not too crazy, is still almost always occupied.

Something that struck me the other night was that I’m not always sure what the difference is between times when I am enjoying being alone and times when it is concerning to be alone. Because, usually, even at night, I am fully comfortable in my house. I can walk around in the dark without any worry (apart from possibly stepping on a cat). I don’t get nervous driving alone, even in the dark when my car is acting up. I like being alone. But every once in a while, I don’t. Very occasionally, I realize I’m the only human in the house and I feel… uneasy. Everything is the same. My house hasn’t changed. The cats are still there. I know where my family is. I know I’m safe. But I’ll just feel a little off, I’m suddenly worried that no one is around.

Part of this thought probably occurred to me because I’ve been watching a lot of Youtube videos revolving around weird medical conditions and also shows about first responders. So when I was emptying the dishwasher yesterday and almost grabbed a sharp knife by the blade, it made me think about how important it is to have someone around. Just in case. If I had grabbed the knife, I’m confident I’d have had plenty of time to get myself to urgent care, if necessary. But there’s always that chance it would’ve been worse than that.

I think it’s those Just-In-Case scenarios that make me grateful to live with other people. I don’t have any wild medical conditions or anything but I know that emergencies happen at the worst times. It’s nice to know that if I don’t emerge from my room for a ridiculous number of hours during the day, someone will probably notice. And even if they don’t, my mom notices when my car is around when it shouldn’t be or that it’s gone when I said I’d be home. There’s a certain level of comfort knowing that others are aware of my presence or absence in the same way that I’m aware of them.

There are certainly times I’m grateful and there are times I don’t want anyone around. And then, like I said, times I feel uneasy being alone and times I revel in it. I am often alone, but not lonely. I’m not sure what changes for me, to make me uncomfortable at times. Is it just that I’ll think about the possibilities of danger? Is it that I’m in some weird mood that I can’t track? Is it the knowledge that anything might happen when I’m by myself? Is it a concern for my friends/family, their safety because I don’t know exactly what they’re doing? I’m not sure. It’s just that sometimes I feel the darkness differently. I feel the gaping doorway of the garage more acutely. I wonder whether the crickets are hiding someone else’s breathing. I wonder if I would hear someone in the parking lot behind me. I think about how I might fumble with my keys. I think about the dewy grass, that I would slip on if I had to run. I think about the dark glass of my windows, knowing that I can’t see out but others might be looking in.

But then I remember that whatever happens, God is still God and He’s still in control. Regardless of my circumstances, He is watching over me. Even if something bad happens, He’s still there. And I can push the anxiety away and take deep breaths and not be worried.

So maybe that’s what the difference is. Maybe it’s because I forget, for a moment, that I’m a child of God. I can be alone, but never lonely, because He is with me always.