It’s a rare day in June–cool and cloudy. The mourning doves are loud through the windows and there’s a poor robin dying on the back porch. I’m alone in the house. I can’t remember the last time that happened when I wasn’t working, to be completely alone in this space, the yard, the house, the weather cooperating with my love of overcast. All the planets must be in perfect alignment in just this exact moment. There are at least a hundred things I could be doing right now, but here I am, writing about how happy I am to be alone.
It’s true. I love the life that G and I have created together but in my deepest, secret heart, I know that I will always be the absolute happiest with only my own company. So significant other, no pet, no friend, no relative. Living, being, dealing with other people is the hardest work I do. I suppose it’s worth it most of the time, but there are moments like this, a pause in the need always to be aware of an other, the presence, the needs, the demands, when I can absolutely relax. My soul can breathe, relax, unfold. I can do it almost as well but going out by myself, biking to the library, going to a movie, etc., but it’s not the same as being at home alone. G went fishing with a friend today, and so I get the gift of the house to myself.
It’s been a tough few weeks. Not just with Peaches going, but other relationship stuff, family stuff, the usual stuff. I don’t like stuff. I prefer to go my own way and let others do the same. It doesn’t mean I don’t care, but if I’m going to practice what I preach about not giving attention to the things I don’t want, then I can’t focus on the things I don’t want. I can’t always be thinking about what might or could happen in a situation. I have to turn away, look in another direction. It’s very difficult, a hard habit to break, a lifetime, nearly, of putting everything that everyone else wants in front of what I want, which really is just peace and quiet. It’s times like this that I finally think I understand my father and why, when he was at home, he mostly slept. G talks about it, but when it comes to doing it, sometimes she just can’t. She has to advise, lecture, preach, just focus, focus, focus on what everyone SHOULD be doing. Why should they? Because if everyone did what SHE thought they should do, SHE would feel better. She came down on me again about my daughter and I was really blindsided because I have been doing (I thought) a really good job about not focusing on her financial situation (mine is quite enough to focus on, thank you), not worrying about the boys (mostly staying home alone this summer–she got a job), not giving money, not, not, not doing the things that I thought were what we agreed I needed not to do.
Then, suddenly, BAM! Why didn’t I care? Why was I so nonchalant? How could I just say, Oh, well, it will be fine? Of course a number of beers were involved, but I didn’t bring that up. I felt beaten up, betrayed, confused, any number of things. You can’t have it both ways. I can’t turn my focus away to other things and keep it on negative stuff at the same time. And now, I can’t say anything about money, it seems, but she goes right to the fact that I’m giving money to the boys, to my daughter, whatever, but not doing for me. I’m not doing it, but I can’t seem to convince her of that. Anything not done for me is taking away from me and given to them. But what’s to do for me? I don’t need anything. I don’t need new clothes, I don’t need any electronic gadgets, I don’t buy books, we have plenty of food. Yes, sure I’d love to travel, whatever, but hello, I’m working, and I’m not getting vacation right now, so that’s out of the question, money or no money. I used a credit card for the first time in nearly year, to take GS1 to a movie and dinner for his birthday, that sent her right off. I think I’m a really easy person to get along with but then something like this happens and it makes me wonder. I’ve dealt with her household quirks and her PTSD and all her health problems and I think (I’m pretty sure) that I’ve never blamed her for any of it, and encouraged her and stepped up when I needed to and stood back when I had to and she’ll be the first person to say how far she’s come and how much I’ve helped her, but what about me? Who gets ME? Ever?
I do. Period.
So I’m taking this pause. I’m sitting with myself. I’m staring out the window and letting my thoughts wander. I’m breathing and saying a prayer for the little bird outside the door. And writing this, accepting all my weirdness and hers.
It’ll be all right. And in a few weeks or months, maybe I’ll get another pause.