That's what I have at my core.
I was talking with Hillori last night (someday I'll have to post on the amazing wonderfulness of having a best friend whom you've known since you were five, who grew up down the street from your house all of both your lives, and with whom you keep in touch and can reconnect no matter how long it's been) about this solitude. She has it too, although, unlike me, she hasn't used it as an excuse to avoid relationships. It's interesting, watching her struggle to balance the need for space with the need to love. I admire her courage.
One thing I've always known about myself is the need for space. For time alone and quiet. My room was always my haven at home, that place where I could go and shut the door and be by myself for hours.
One thing I've always wondered about is how that would play into future relationships, marriage, and kids. I will always need "a room of my own." Are husbands cool with that? I'm going to need a library/study where everyone in the family understands that if I go in and shut the door, I'm not to be disturbed unless something drastic has happened.
Selfish? No. Introspective and necessary to mental stability. It's not even that I spend all my alone time thinking and probing the depths of my consciousness. I've become surprisingly less inclined to examine myself in the past year; I usually get fed up with myself and say, "Enough Sarah, go do something." Normally what I do with the alone time is nothing. Maybe cook, maybe clean, do the little household tasks that need doing (sometimes), and not even talk to myself. (I'm the queen of out-loud self-conversation.) Just tap into that empty space somewhere inside me and let it stretch.
My mom has gotten up two hours before everyone else in the family in order to have her time of solitude.
Fortunately right now it's easy to have that space. Later, with changes in circumstance, it won't be so easy.
See, I'm much less afraid of winding up alone than I am of winding up never able to be alone. (You could even say I'm much less afraid of winding up alone than I am of love. Not silly romance love, but the kind of bonedeep love that opens you up to worlds of hurt and claims too much attention. Blah, blah, stop whining.) Of course someday it will be worth it, but right now I'm content. Usually.
And on a less introspective note (the urge will overwhelm sometimes, however I normally squelch it), I have a doctor's appointment today to find out why I've been feeling blah for a month.
Enough Sarah; go do something.
2 comments:
Are husbands cool with that? There's a very simple answer to that, which I discovered after asking myself the same kind of question several times. The answer is: yours will be.
It's happily inaccurate to lump "husbands" together like a monolithic species, as if you were asking, "Do cats like water?" "Can parakeets talk?" (Actually even with cats and parakeets one answer doesn't hold for all members of the species. My cat likes to play in the kitchen sink.)
Men are as varied as women, and married life doesn't come out of a mold. It's the unique chemistry of the husband and wife and how they choose to live their lives together. I'm sure there are one or two men out there who wouldn't mind your having a study to yourself. :-)
Oh Sarah dear, in one simple word, "YES!"
Did you know that I'm an "I"? Can't tell that I hate all people and all social situations, can ya? Oh, what I really mean to say is that being alone is my battery charger - and I claim it as my right to take that anytime I want! :)
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