When You Feel Like You’re the Only One

by Lois Flowers

A while back, as I neared the end of a long season in the wilderness, I sometimes felt more alone than at any other time in my adult life.

spring-blossoms

There I was, barely into my 40s and experiencing difficult aspects of early menopause after years of hormonal upheaval. Thankfully, I did have some friends who could empathize a bit. They had been through the same transition, though maybe not in such a tumultuous way or at such an early age.

Many of my friends—women my age or younger, most with school-age children at home—weren’t there yet and simply couldn’t relate.

Intellectually, I knew I wasn’t the only one who had ever faced this, and that my struggles were minor compared to the more serious hardships of others. But I was such a reluctant pioneer.

And although few people knew what was going on inside of me, I also felt like a complete oddball, as if I had an extra arm or a foot growing out of my forehead.

I hated this thought. It wasn’t as bad as the actual physical symptoms I dealt with, but it still left me feeling sad and empty.

During this time in my life, I had friends who were trudging through their own dark valleys. Some of their trials actually made headlines, while others were intensely private. I wanted to understand what they were feeling, because I believed empathy was the best path to encouragement. But I hadn’t walked in their shoes, so I couldn’t truly share in their suffering.

That’s what I assumed, anyway.

Then one day, probably when I was feeling lonely and not understood, I tripped over that foot sticking out of my forehead and stumbled straight onto common ground.

I realized that, while our specific trials are unique to each one of us, certain feelings are universal. I might not have a child with debilitating special needs. I might not have a husband who doesn’t share my faith. I might not have a grieving heart, a terminal illness or a painful past.

But I do know what it’s like to feel like I’m the only one. I do know what it’s like to get that “I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about” blank stare when I try to explain my struggle. I do know what it’s like to think that there’s not one soul on God’s green earth—or at least in my immediate circle of people—who can relate exactly to what I’m experiencing.

I know what it feels like to have a foot growing out of my forehead, and when I haven’t walked where someone else is walking, that’s a good place to start.

It breaks my heart to think that someone I care about might have the added weight of internal isolation plopped atop her messy pile of pain, grief or loss. To think that when my hurting friend walks into a room, she assumes that everyone is avoiding looking at her, gazing at her with pity-filled eyes or completely oblivious to her presence.

None of these things may be true, but that feeling? It’s real, and it’s miserable.

My friend may not feel like she has a foot growing out of her forehead. Isolation may make her feel like she’s drowning, or standing outside naked, or trapped on a deserted island.

Whatever the word picture, though, the root cause is the same—she’s feels like she’s the only one. And that thought alone is enough to spur me into action.

It’s not rocket science, really. When you realize you have this in common with someone, it becomes more natural to care for her the way you would like to be cared for yourself.

So you seek her out. You hug her. You ask her about the hard things, and not just once. You listen—carefully and without interrupting. You look for ways you can learn from her, ways that have nothing to do with her pain.

She may feel all alone, but she’s not.

You’re there, too.

Lois Flowers

P.S. Linking up this week with Kelly Balarie at Purposeful FaithJennifer Dukes Lee at #TellHisStory, Holley Gerth at Coffee for Your Heart, Lyli Dunbar at #ThoughtProvokingThursday, Missional Women and Grace & Truth.

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24 comments

Julie Lefebure February 11, 2016 - 8:04 pm

Lois, if it helps at all, I’m entering the life stage you are referring to here. And I’m the only one who’s walking through it in my circle. I so understand where you are coming from! I’m thankful we’re all in this life together, and I’m thankful someone else out there (you!) get it. I’m sending you long-distance hugs today. Bless you. I’m your neighbor at Holley’s this week.

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Lois Flowers February 12, 2016 - 10:27 am

Thank you so much, Julie. I do get it, and judging from the other comments here, so do many others! Hugging you back, and praying that God will sustain you through this transition as He faithfully does through all of them!

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bluecottonmemory February 11, 2016 - 6:59 pm

We do all struggle – with different things – but regardless of the “difference” in the things, they’re impact can be weighty causing us to feeling like failures, being judged and so we isolate ourselves. Just like a predator goes after the lone lamb or cow or whatever – so does Satan. If he can get us alone, he can destroy us. You are so right. It is so important to support, encourage and just love those going through their hard time. You’ve given us wise words on how to love one another effectively!

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Lois Flowers February 12, 2016 - 10:25 am

I totally agree … we are much more vulnerable to Satan’s lies and attacks when we are alone–or when we THINK we are alone (which can be one of the lies, actually). Thank you for your insightful words today!

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Sarah Donegan February 11, 2016 - 3:49 pm

You’re there too.
I finally realized most people feel this way in some part of their life. We just all need to be there for each other. Great ideas that someone needed to hear!

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Lois Flowers February 11, 2016 - 6:19 pm

Thanks, Sarah! It’s hard when we want to help or fix or do in some way, but often presence is the best gift we can offer, isn’t it?

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Lisa February 10, 2016 - 4:13 pm

Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I have experienced early menopause too recently. God is faithful through every season of life!! Connecting with you through #Raralinkup today with Kelly Balarie.

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Lois Flowers February 11, 2016 - 6:17 pm

Yes, Lisa, He most certainly is! And it’s comforting to know others have been there too … thanks for stopping by!

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Kristi Woods February 10, 2016 - 10:55 am

Oh Lois, you have such a gift with words. And this one? Understanding and compassion ooze from its core. It’s such a good post. I’m one of those “go inward, go quiet” kind of gals. These words of yours will help an inward/quiet girl look up to the Son and come out of her shell. Blessings! (Neighboring with you at #tellHisstory.)

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 2:57 pm

Oh Kristi … thank you for the gift of this comment! This post was one that made me a little squeamish to hit “publish” (being so personal and all) so I’m glad you found it to be encouraging. 🙂 I’m also a “go inward, go quiet” girl, but I’m slowly learning that life outside the shell can be quite lovely too!

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Linda Stoll February 10, 2016 - 8:54 am

mmm … makes me wonder if we were each in our own wilderness right about the same time … and how we could have ministered His grace to each other even though we were up to our necks in our own suffering.

this is beautiful, Lois. thank you for the hope you’ve given today.

He does redeem our suffering. that I know for sure.

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 3:06 pm

Yes, Linda–I’ve seen God redeem my suffering, and I also see His redemption in the words that you write so beautifully. Our paths may not have crossed in the wilderness, but I’m definitely blessed by your friendship now!

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Meg Gemelli February 10, 2016 - 6:23 am

You’re there too…It’s amazing the connections we forge when we actually get the courage to tell the truth about our lives to other people. Whether it’s in daily life or all the way across the internet connecting with other writers, I’m so thankful to know people with shared interests and faith. You have a lovely site. I’m happy to be visiting for the first time:) Have a wonderful week!

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 8:42 am

Aw, Meg … You’ve just made my day with these encouraging words! I’m with you … I love what happens when we bravely tell the truth about our lives. It’s so nice to meet you today!

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Debbie Putman February 9, 2016 - 10:59 pm

Beautiful. Wise advice straight from your heart. Thank you for sharing.

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 8:40 am

And thank YOU for taking the time to respond, Debbie. Sometimes it’s the most succinct comments that mean the most! 🙂

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Kathy February 9, 2016 - 8:02 pm

Gosh, I went through a very long season feeling this way in my 40’s..how lonely it is..but I love your writing and how you share the internal experiences and notice those around who may feel the same, the way we need to connect with those who might feel like an outcast..be like Jesus, go hang with them! Really enjoyed this, and thank you for your vulnerablity!

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 8:38 am

Writing something like this is (for me) a bit like stepping outside unclothed, so I appreciate your sweet words, Kathy! I wouldn’t wish this kind of season on anyone, but it is encouraging to know others have been there and come out on the other side more prepared and willing to reach out to hurting people. Blessings to you today!

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Betsy de Cruz February 9, 2016 - 5:06 pm

These are wise words, Lois. Thanks for the encouragement to ask, listen, and ask and listen again! Also to be on the look out for those who may be hurting.

I had early pre-menopause symptoms too, so you weren’t/aren’t alone! Mine were mainly hormonal/emotional, and wow what a roller coaster it was. Made for some difficult times.

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 8:31 am

I’m sorry that you struggled in the same way, Betsy, but it is comforting to know I wasn’t the only one! Thank YOU for your encouraging words about this rather sensitive (at least for me) topic!

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Trudy February 9, 2016 - 3:37 pm

God really taught you wisdom through your experiences, Lois. I love this – “I realized that, while our specific trials are unique to each one of us, certain feelings are universal.” This is so true. Blessings and hugs to you!

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Lois Flowers February 10, 2016 - 8:28 am

Thank you, Trudy. Knowing that someone else can relate to how we’re feeling–even if he or she doesn’t fully grasp why we’re feeling that way–is such a comfort, isn’t it? I hope you have a joy-filled day, my friend!

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Liz February 9, 2016 - 5:58 am

Beautiful, Lois! Circumstances may differ but they feelings are the same. We are NOT alone! Happy to be your Neighbor over on Purposeful Faith this morning!

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Lois Flowers February 9, 2016 - 2:40 pm

And what a comfort that is, Liz. Thank you for your kind words today!

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