Are we lonely, alone or graced by solitude?

I explore that existential question in this week's lens on how to bring more Clarity, Connection, Community and Creativity to our lives.

Photo by Paola Chaaya on Unsplash

It has been a year since I moved out of the home I shared with my then-husband and began for the first time to live on my own. I had gone from childhood home to college dorm to housemates and then marital home. I found the time alone to be terrifying at first. I became anxious. I set up calls or met with friends as often as I could. I ran from the solitude of my condo as if fleeing a fire. But then, I settled into it. And one day I realized I wasn’t lonely. I was simply alone. And in that aloneness, I was cultivating a solitude I hadn’t realized I needed. I was in deep relationship with myself, with my deepest fears and needs and wants and desires. I was learning to soothe myself rather than have another do that for me. It was a revelation. And now, many months into the experience of frequent solitude, I can now claim it as a gift. As the author Liz Gilbert once said in conversation with podcast host Glennon Doyle on We Can Do Hard Things, “I am not living by myself but with myself.”

Every Thursday I share a curated list of insights, resources and recommendations for paid subscribers on how to cultivate Clarity, Connection, Community, and Creativity, the signposts of my life. This week, I explore the ways in which we regard loneliness, aloneness, and solitude. Become a paid subscriber and join the conversation!

Connection

The beautiful moment when one soul recognizes another.

The onset of dementia forces solitude upon a person. They become locked inside their own world without the ability to connect with others in all the ways they once did. For my mother, suffering with dementia, solitude has become the place she inhabits all the time, where those who love her cannot enter. Solitude is not a gift under those circumstances. But sitting in comfortable, silent companionship in my mother’s solitude is the gift I can offer her, as a way to preserve our loving connection.

Maintaining connection with a loved one with dementia is hard and heartbreaking but entirely possible. The level of connection depends on the stage of the disease. But touch transcends, no matter how deep the solitariness of the beloved. A held hand, a kiss on the cheek, softly brushed hair, a shared laugh. Each of these gestures makes a smile blossom on my mother’s face.

If you are caring for a loved one with dementia, maintaining connection as they retreat into their own worlds is challenging. Over time in this newsletter I will share the best advice and resources I have found and share them with you. For now I offer one memoir and two novels that have given me wisdom and helped me feel less alone.