I Would Rather Be In Bed

You know that feeling when the silence in your house is so loud it’s practically screaming at you? Yeah, that’s my life now. Kids grow up, life moves on, and somehow, here I am—staring at walls that were once full of noise, wondering how I got here. Fun times, right?

It’s not like loneliness kicks in with a big, dramatic flair. Nope, it’s sneaky. One minute, you’re living life, and the next, you’re realizing your social circle consists of co-workers you talk to because, well, you’re stuck in the same building. (Super deep, life-altering friendships, I know.) My kids? They’re doing what they’re supposed to do—moving on, living their lives, figuring things out. Good for them. Really. But could they slow down just a little so I don’t feel like I’m turning into a relic before my time?

Then there’s the whole “I thought I had someone to lean on” situation. Spoiler alert: trust shattered, story over. But, oh, the temptation to reach out to him when I’m feeling extra isolated! It’s like knowing you shouldn’t eat an entire pizza at 2 a.m., but you’re definitely going to do it anyway because, in the moment, it seems like the perfect idea. Except instead of cheese-induced joy, I get a fresh serving of drama and regret. Awesome, right? Sure, it’s a temporary fix, but let’s be real: it’s like putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg. We all know how that ends.

So here I am, trying to get back into the things I used to love. Writing, journaling, reading, pretending I’m still part of some online tribe. Except now it feels like yelling into the void. Authentic connections? Ha! More like “Oh, we have the same hobby? Cool, let’s like each other’s posts and never speak again.” There’s no depth, no real understanding, just a lot of surface-level nodding.

And don’t even get me started on friendships. I thought I had a best friend once. You know, the person you’d call at 2 a.m. when life was falling apart? Yeah, she ghosted me out of nowhere. That’s cool, totally cool. Now I have “work friends,” which is great when you need someone to complain with about how you haven’t had lunch in 12 hours. Deep, soul-affirming stuff, right?

At 38, with kids almost out the door and a life that feels more like a hamster wheel than a highlight reel, I’m left with the big existential question: Who am I when I’m not playing mom, nurse, or professional peacekeeper? Answer: I have no idea, but hey, at least there’s junk journaling! (Yes, that’s sarcasm. But also, have you seen the stickers? They’re the only thing holding me together at this point.)

Here’s the thing no one tells you about loneliness: it’s not always about being alone. Sometimes it’s about being surrounded by people and still feeling like you’re the only one in the room. It’s realizing that the connections you had—romantic or otherwise—were built on a foundation that’s now crumbled into dust. But hey, that’s life, right? Just one big game of Jenga, except no one told you it’s rigged from the start.

And yet—here’s where the cynical optimism kicks in—there’s something to be said for sitting in the quiet. Maybe it’s forcing me to figure out who I actually am (or at least who I don’t want to be). It’s uncomfortable, sure, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe, out of all this awkward, uncomfortable silence, I’ll find something new. Or maybe I’ll just become best friends with my cat. Honestly, at this point, it’s a toss-up.

So if you’re out there feeling like you’re drowning in your own personal sea of loneliness, don’t worry—you’re not alone. You’ve got me, probably on the other end of this post, binge-watching Netflix in sweatpants and wondering if I should text my ex again (don’t worry, I won’t… I think).

Here’s to finding ourselves—eventually. Probably. Maybe. At least we’ve still got sarcasm.