Citrus Liturgy: Embracing Midlife Loneliness and Renewal

A Journey Through Loneliness

When you're a painter trying to convey what a painting means to you, it forces you to sit down and be honest with yourself. This blog reflects on "Citrus Liturgy." It was easy to say this painting emerged from a feeling of loneliness, but it was a loneliness I had never felt before. There wasn't a specific person I could point to and say, "I miss this person." Instead, it was just a feeling. Creating this painting made me pause and contemplate why I felt this way.

The younger me might have called a friend to fill the emptiness instead of examining my feelings. It’s always easier to ignore hard emotions, but then we also overlook the beauty—the zest of life.

The Peculiar Hush of Midlife

There’s a peculiar hush in your forties. Career paths that once felt infinite now trace clearer, often narrower tracks that wind toward retirement. Friendships scatter into different time zones, and life converges into a whirlwind of responsibilities: caring for teenagers, eldercare, relentless work, and the general malaise that the doctor insists is simply because you need to lose ten more pounds.

Nights grow quieter, not because life has dimmed, but because its volume has shifted to frequencies you can’t always hear. You’ve spent your life chasing the noise, but now, in this season where everything feels thrown together, you’re busier than ever caring for those around you. Yet, you crave quiet.

In that quiet, that hush, you find loneliness. It isn’t proof that something is wrong with you; it’s proof that you can finally hear yourself think.

The Shift in Perspective

In earlier decades, momentum muffled feelings. College semesters, first apartments, small children, and work ambitions filled every calendar day, protecting you from the acidic sting of introspection. By midlife, the quest for a quiet moment slows the pace just enough for the juice to seep through. Suddenly, you taste both sharpness and sweetness in the same swallow. It can surprise you, maybe even burn a little, but it’s also vividly alive.

Loneliness here isn’t a deficit; it’s information. It tells you where connection is needed, where desire still pulses, and where grief remains unspoken. Ignoring it is like discarding an orange because the peel is pale or has surface scars. You lose the juicy interior. Slicing it open, on the other hand, releases the brightness you feared might be lost forever.

Midlife Solitude as a Liturgy

Think of midlife solitude as a liturgy, a ritual of sorts.

The Lone Slice

Imagine a canceled plan or a quiet Saturday that exposes negative space. Instead of rushing to fill it with scrolling or errands, hold it up to the light. Absence can illuminate longing, and naming that longing is the first step toward meaningful change.

The Pressure of the Juice Splash

Mortgages, blood tests, or teenagers can compress you until something bursts. If you allow the eruption instead of suppressing it, the resulting spray refracts light in unexpected directions. A daring career pivot, a revived friendship, or a long-postponed creative project can emerge. The squeeze is uncomfortable, but the droplets sparkle.

The Midnight Altar

Picture a lone bulb over a cutting board, the scent of citrus oil in the air. This is the moment you choose not to numb out into routine but to take notice. Make tea slowly, read a poem aloud, stretch until your spine sighs. Ordinary gestures become ritual simply because you pay full attention.

Why Feeling Deeply Matters

Why is feeling deeply a good thing? Because emotion is information—the only honest report you might get all day. It clarifies priorities, exposes neglected parts of yourself, and fuels decisions that align with who you are now, not who you were at twenty-five. When you let loneliness register, you move from autopilot to authorship.

4 Simple Practices to Honor This Hush

1. Slice & Savor. When the evening feels cavernous, peel an orange mindfully. For each segment, name one truth that stings and one hope that sweetens. Swallow both; they belong together.

   
   

2. Spotlight Solitude. Replace background noise with a single candle or lamp. Journal, pray, or simply breathe for ten minutes. Treat the silence as illumination, not deprivation.

   
   

3. Pressure into Play. Schedule one activity that scares or intrigues you—a dance class, a solo hike, or a foreign-language lesson. Let the compression of daily life propel you into a burst of novelty.

   
   

4. Daily Benediction. End each night by acknowledging one ache and one delight from the day. This tiny ritual transforms raw feeling into integrated experience.

   
   

Embracing the Invitation of Loneliness

Midlife loneliness isn’t a verdict; it’s an invitation. The ache you notice in the quiet isn’t the absence of life; it’s life asking for your undivided attention. Taste it fully. Let it be sharp, let it be sweet, and let it remind you that you are still, gloriously, beautifully alive.

In this journey, remember that you are not alone. Embrace the stillness, and allow it to guide you toward deeper connections and self-reflection.

Jackie

The painting that sparked this reflection is available in the shop. link here