If The Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.

by Joy Monger

I admit it.

I have been known to fall prey to the Late Night Lonelies.

And I don’t always deal well with it.  I’ve texted inappropriately to see if other people have also been stricken. I’ve kept drinking to prolong the party and fend off the lonelies. I’ve cried. I’ve eaten 2 am sandwiches in my bed.

Surprisingly none of these have provided a cure. Not even the sandwiches.

So I admit I have a problem, which is the first step to recovery, right?

I’ve tried to cut out the booze. I’ve mentally prepared myself for going home to an empty house after a night of being surrounded by my lovely, shimmering friends. I am learning about delayed gratification. I got a cat and I’m teaching him to spoon.

But sometimes that old voice whispers to me; call that person, reach out to another human being, it doesn’t count in the twilight hours.

Last night the voice was loud. It made my fingers twitch and reach for the phone. It grabbed my heart and made me doubt my resolve.

And then I remembered that my old tricks haven’t worked for me. And after the sandwich or the late night phone call I usually feel even lonelier.

So I decided to try something new: do nothing. That’s right. I did nothing. Which is actually a big deal for me (the phrase “leave well enough alone” gives me the willies.)

And when I woke up this morning with the sunshine streaming in the window I felt utterly un-alone, self-respect intact, and zero crumbs in my bed.

Well done me.

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