Alone Time

I have to turn on the t.v. because it’s just too quiet without them here. I have it on mostly just for background noise, occasionally I really watch. This helps my brain pretend that it’s not just me and the dog in the house. Or something like that.

There are a million things I could do, like clean out my closet, or one of theirs.  Go for a run or bake something then eat it.  Or both.  I could clean the house from top to bottom or read a book or a magazine.  I could start writing the book I think I may publish someday.  Or at least the outline.  I could call a friend or family member or take a nap. I could meet a friend for a drink or go get a pedicure.  I could take myself out to dinner or to a movie.

And I have done many of these things.

But sometimes it is just easier to stay here and do “nothing”.  Some days that is all I have the energy for, frankly.  Grappling with all these feelings and emotions and unrealized dreams is tiring enough at times.

A friend or two of mine have heard about how I have “all this time” to myself and mentioned that it “sounds nice” and I won’t lie, the occasional break is good but it is also a reminder that it isn’t supposed to be this way.  At least not in my mind. My kids are supposed to be with both of their parents and I am not supposed to feel lonely. I am supposed to feel loved and protected and wanted.

And even though those were not feelings I had all the time, and especially recently in my marriage, they were there at times, and now they are not there at all.  Just like my kids, when they are at their dad’s house. Gone. Not here.

I have been advised to take this time for myself and reflect, figure out what I want out of the rest of my life but really it’s just a lot easier to watch HGTV with a glass of wine on the side table.  One morning I wake up with a new resolve to be happy and full of joy, despite my current situation but then on another day, reality hits at the sound of my alarm and here I am, in bed alone again, wishing things had turned out differently.

I imagine it is a bit like when a spouse dies. I am grieving in some similar ways. The death of a marriage is quite sad in its own right.  Seeing him in person is kind of like seeing a ghost in a way – he’s different than the man I married.  And although not a true apparition, I cannot touch him like I used to.  I cannot feel for him how I did before. We cannot be one, we live in different realms. We no longer walk in sync.

And all over the house I inhabit alone (when the kids are gone) are reminders of him and the life we had together.  Most of the photographs are gone or sit in closed books, however other things remain. Like “his” sink that goes unused in the master bathroom.  Or the rug we liked and decided on together… the matching nightstands that he insisted we buy and are now covered in only my books and things.

So my alone time consists of me trying to fill the minutes with things I enjoy and will make me not sit and wallow.  I do the best I can not to miss them too much when they are gone but going into their bathroom and catching the scent of their kid shampoo makes it harder.  I tidy their rooms and do their laundry. I buy them snacks I know they will like upon their return. I close my eyes and imagine their beautiful faces. I pray for them and ask God’s protection of them.  I wait for them to come home.

And I snuggle the dog and feed him popcorn and think about cleaning out my closet.  Maybe someday.