The Sound of Silence

“Loneliness is the poverty of the soul.” ‒ Jean-Paul Sartre

When I was a boy I would often sit and listen to adult conversations, observing mannerisms and behaviours. I have tried to understand the rules people have to keep strangers out and make friends of others. Imagine my surprise when I get to 2024 and discover an extremely short list of people I count as friends. This has led me to observe a crucial aspect of human relations as well as a lesson for parenting. 

I started going to church properly when I was 17. My father had died the previous year and I had clung to a group of Christian girls. Young women have a willingness for intimate friendship that is striking to think about on reflection. I have always been interested in understanding feelings as well as human interactions and my theory is that we probably shared those interests. These girls drew me into a church that gave me a sense of belonging and provided me a slew of kind and generous friendships, both men and women. These friendships were filled with an honesty and sincerity and a shared sense of purpose that was deeply fulfilling at that point in life. These relationships drew me out of a private hell I was in after my Dad died and drew me to faith in a compassionate judge who would bring all things in universe together and a people seeking to share a message of compassion and mercy. I now poured myself out, as an offering, and devoted myself through participating in the church. This was a deeply fulfilling time in my life. 

Through the progress of time and learning I found myself more acutely in need of someone to love. The lessons of friendship as well as my upbringing were poor teachers. I hadn't really understood the tides of a woman's heart and was ineffective in mastering them. I kept thinking that my friendships would somehow magically change into passionate love affairs. This did not pan out. As I walked out of my education and into the work force, the group of people I looked for support changed. I had a best friend who led me into his group of friends. Within this group of friends was a woman who ached to find a man who would wear his heart on his sleeve and adore her with all the passion in his heart. I wrote to her a quote from Hamlet in response to her doubt of my intentions, "doubt the stars are fire, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love." We married on February 28,2009 because that was the soonest possible date I could convince her to get married. 

As most other couples, the task of learning how to service each other was a delicate and difficult task that was daunting. Its easy to look back at those tough times and with hindsight say "of course we'd make it through." Yet, in those moments such certainty was lacking. Through great difficulty we became two sides of the same coin. Ours is a lesson of fitting together and it is one of the greatest such successes of my life. Out of this I was given children. I learned a lesson during my time of an educational assistant. The lesson was regarding difficult children and it was that if they do not feel sufficiently care for they will not care about you. I took this lesson to heart in my parenting and attempted to treat my children as an investment firm. I cared for them as one might tend a garden, caring and pruning as I went. This was a task that I found consuming when they were young. 

During the process of raising my children and raising my marriage I learned the additional mechanics of life. As "he" became "they" and "I" became "we," I began to learn the dynamics of marriage and socialisation. My wife began to attend my church and we continued attempting to be a part of it. Having a principal difference as well as feeling that the culture of the church had shifted, we came to the conclusion that a change was required. We had some friends who had a church group we had begun attending. We had casually been attending that church and had enjoyed it. When my oldest son was born we had determined we would join that church permanently. 

We had begun going to this church, but the church group had been the real source for our spiritual life. We felt very close to the people there and enjoyed our experience. After a number of years it came to pass that this group "took a break." It was later reformed and the leaders made a special point to exclude certain people, my wife and I namely. I found the whole thing somewhat juvenile and attempted to join a different one. I was under the impression that the reforming of this group had been casual and decided not to take it personally. We attempted to join other groups and were told that the leaders of this group spelt it out quite clearly they wanted nothing to do with us. This one hurt and left me and my family wounded and it has never, despite my attempts, found a resolution. 

Now, having grown my children to a point where doting attention is no longer necessary, I find myself with no friends. I do have relationships with individuals who I value, but a list of who I would call to "help me move" is short. In my reflections on loneliness I have also concluded some observations on parenting. I have a friend who had a struggle growing up where she never felt like she was taken seriously. Her thoughts, her feelings and her perspectives were not given weight. When she raised her objections she was gas-lighted (made to feel like she was the real problem). Her experience is certainly not unique. I often thought this was a reflection of parents not allowing their children to change into relationships with adults, but I think its something different. There is the concept of loving "the idea of someone" that I think is at play. What that means is loving someone based on the image a person has rather than their specific qualities. This is a very easy thing for parents to do because infancy is simple and so primal and it imprints in the parents almost as much as it imprints on the kids. As we got older, the complexity of relationships provide a much more difficult path. As we grow, the complexity of people becomes exponential. How many parents make it a priority to understand their children-even as adults. Do we recognise the image we have of our family belies a significantly more complex thing underneath. Is it possible the isolation we feel culturally resulted from a generation of parents concerned for the well-being of children, but with no regard for the person hiding beneath their image. People in this world are content with the image and they feel they have no obligation. Many people who I valued consider that they have no obligation to me. I am uncertain whether this is my problem or theirs, but the solutions to the loneliness and pain that I feel elude me. 

My personal challenge is to find space to listen to others and remembering that I am obligated to be the person that I wish. I am obligated to my wife and to my children most of all. I just wish I felt a little bit of that coming back in my general direction.