I kept putting the decision off. Committing to three solitary days for a spiritual art retreat on an island seemed equal parts scary and thrilling. Pictures of paintbrushes and watercolors strewn across the oak table under a hexagonal window that looked out at the Puget Sound lured me. Being alone for 72 hours, surrounded by water on all sides and reliant on a ferry to reach anyone I knew produced anxiety within me. Should I go or should I stay?  

As I dissected my hesitancy to go, the fear of loneliness emerged as my primary hurdle. What if the isolation of an island triggered convincing lies like, “I am alone in life,” and sent me into a mental state that actually prevented the spiritual and artistic pursuits that I craved? What if three distraction-free days alone sent me into a state of psychological instability?  

Being attuned to my process made me realize that loneliness has an ugly twin: fear. As I reflect upon the times in my life when I have felt most alone, I sense that fear made each one of them worse. During my freshman year of college, when I experienced prolonged loneliness and depression for the first time in my life, worrying that I was incapable of “making it” outside of the familiarities of home multiplied my despair. Multiple cross-country moves during adulthood triggered similar anxieties: what if I feel like this forever? I cannot think of a time of intense loneliness in which significant fear was not also present.  

So, I now wonder if I am capable of accepting the feeling of loneliness as it is, without the piling on of fear. I am more curious now than ever before about why God said, “You are never alone.” He knew that loneliness would be part of being human, and that fear would be its steady companion. How beautiful that God lovingly quells that fear with His constant presence! 

With this fresh perspective, I book my ferry reservation and commit to going. When loneliness creeps in on me, I will do my best to welcome it as it is, pure and part of being human, coated in the truth that I am never alone, rather than coupled with fear.