I’ve noticed that since I’ve been alone, I’ve been craving human connection. I’ve also noticed how hard it is to get sometimes. I spent the day at work spending quality time with my computer. After work I contemplated going to a movie alone, for the sole purpose of being around people, even strangers. However, because of an incident involving being in the checkout line at the supermarket, realizing I did not have my wallet and driving home to get it, I missed the movie. New plan, a walk in the woods, a glass of wine, some general house pottering and an episode of my favourite TV show. I ended up enjoying my evening, maybe because I had a big Skype chat with the boys at lunch, or because I’m getting used to this, or maybe because I’m figuring out that I’m not such a bad person to hang out with.
It has become clear to me that I take for granted my usual feeling of well-being. I know I’m loved every second of every day because I have a husband who is my best friend and a loving, engaging, hilarious and intelligent son. I have not felt lonely in a very long time. Having felt it keenly the last few days I have the urge to give every lonely person out there a big hug, stoke their hair and make them feel better (without being creepy, of course.) I wish we could all approach each other easier. Why is it so easy for us to be sarcastic with each other and so hard to say “I like you?” Why is it okay to ignore the people around you, but not okay to show affection? We sit at home with our independence and our iPhones and live through television programs, occupying the same planet as everyone else but not reaching across the electronic barrier.
I’m the same. Here I am, connecting with people over this blog and Facebook because I have a carefully constructed metaphorical fortress around me. This mostly one-way connection of myself, projecting outwards, is my easiest way to share myself.
I went to see my friend Erin play at the Gold Pan Saloon Open Mic Night. I jumped on the idea when she texted me, which must have surprised her because I’m usually lame and bail. I invited Marie, partly because she’s pretty cool and I want to get to know her better, but also because I knew I wouldn’t know anyone there and my social anxiety would undoubtedly kick in (this is usually the reason I bail).
Surprisingly I met some new people and the whole social anxiety thing never happened. They all seemed neat and interesting. I didn’t feel judged, in fact, the feeling I had bordered on comfortable. The music was cathartic. Erin did two numbers, an original blend of folk and hiphop. I admired the bravery of all those musicians, facing fears and putting themselves out there, not because they have to, to survive, but because they want to, to live.
I didn’t blog yesterday. I was a bit down because I didn’t get to Skype with my boys. Also, I was struggling with a change going on inside myself and I didn’t know quite how to articulate it.
These 12 days have been a journey for me. It started with denial. The first night I fixated on cleaning the house before the lady came to measure the windows for blinds and I buried myself in TV and told myself that this was great. My resolve slowly deteriorated from there. I was spending a great deal of time alone, with myself and it was like being with a stranger. I’ve identified myself as a wife and mother for so long that I struggled, being by my self, away from the source of my identity. For the last four years, if you asked me who I was, I would say “mother” and if you asked me what I want, I would say, “for my son to be happy.” And this is still true. But I come to the realization over the last couple of week, with some bumps along the way, that I am also me, and it’s not immediately obvious to me what I want. Being a wife and mother is a huge part of my life, but it’s not everything, and I’ve lost touch with myself a bit.
Last night the loneliness of the house was so oppressive I almost went out - anywhere - to escape it. I stayed in. I spent hours listening to music and thinking. This morning I woke up early and oddly happy. Loose thoughts jangled around in my head as I tidied the house, made breakfast, had a bath, did some reading and took Maggie for a long walk. This morning I was okay. More than okay. I was happy in my own skin. I was entertained by my own thoughts. I even looked in the mirror this morning admired my own appearance instead of picking out every flaw which has not happened in a long time (unless in retrospect to my younger, skinnier days.) Today my own skin is like a comfortable warm blanket.
Something has changed. I’ve been neglecting a part of myself and we kissed and made up. We hung out. It’s like we were never apart.
Today (Sunday) I have big plans to do laundry and chill. Instead of writing about my laundry detergent (well, I actually use soap nuts and it's quite interesting, but another day) let me tell you about yesterday...