You always hear about this magical “village” that appears in times of need, whether the need arises from death, divorce, sickness, or the throes of early parenthood. What you don’t hear about is the isolation that can follow if your particular need goes on for “too long.”

Every person I’ve met that is also fighting their own cancer has felt it – the loneliness that comes with the diagnosis. It’s like a free membership to an invite-only exclusive club no one wants to join. There’s nothing like being part of a group that no one wants to be in.  I’m no stranger to loneliness, though; I’m just used to a different brand.

If you’ve been following the blog, you may remember me writing about my anxiety. Beginning at a young age, it has piggybacked along for all my life, the intensity varying and manifesting in different ways. As a child, it sometimes showed up when I was alone or in new places. As an adolescent, it morphed into social anxiety (mostly due to the ruthless bullying I faced). The bullying lasted for nearly a decade; faces changed, the reason I was targeted changed, the loneliness I felt was the only constant.

It slowly got better as I grew older but I’ve felt the most improvement since having kids. Not only do I want to make friends so my kids can spend time with theirs, but they make me want to be brave. I certainly can’t ask them to be brave if they don’t see me doing the same. So my social awkwardness has waned. The barriers I put up to protect myself have begun to fall away like the petals of a flower. I didn’t count on some of the people around me putting up more when I got sick.

New friends, acquaintances, people I had only begun to see regularly before my diagnosis seem to have acquired their own type of social awkwardness. It’s as if these people have put up an invisible barrier around me to avoid the big C word. I don’t fault them or blame them, not even a little. I can’t say I wouldn’t unintentionally do the same if roles were reversed. Some just don’t know what to say, others may just feel relief it didn’t happen to them (and then feel guilty for being relieved), a few may be sick of hearing about it (us cancer patients fall into this group too), and then there are others that are just too wrapped up in their own lives.

I don’t begrudge any of those people their feelings. We’re all human. I don’t blame any of them or feel any negativity about it. They’ve just helped me learn some things.

If there are people that slip away while you aren’t looking, let them go. If there are people that don’t know how to be your friend while you’re in need, let them go. Maybe they’ll come back. Maybe not. The only way out of this hard time is to get through it. So conserve your energy and let the people that continue to surround you with love and support fill the places these people leave. You may find you don’t even notice the absence of the ones that put up that barrier, that haven’t reached out.

I guess what I’m saying is this: embrace and be thankful for the friends that have stuck around; forgive the ones that haven’t. And remember that, eventually, that sense of isolation that surrounds you like a bubble, will eventually float away. You may feel lonely but you’re never truly alone. That “village” may not totally understand but they don’t need to truly get it to love you.

PS Someone expressed worry that this post may offend some readers or make someone feel as if I’m “calling them out.” This is absolutely not the case. If there’s anything I’ve learned through all of this, it’s to hold onto the positive in my life. Blame and grudges and anger are not something I want in my life. I have nothing but love for you all!