Home Alone

For some time now I find myself in the position of living alone a lot of the time. Well, my daughter does live here in the house, but has her own life and schedule and that does not include me that often. So I find myself knocking around the house with my list of tasks and wondering how in the world it came to be like this?

I am not liking this time in my life much at all. My husband is away for his work most of the time, and when he calls, it's typically late in the day when we both are tired and more than a bit crabby. I miss the daily interaction of discussing our days and paying attention to what each other is thinking and feeling. Lately I think about my grandmother on Dad's side, whose husband traveled for work nearly the whole of their marriage, leaving her home alone with three boys to basically raise the family and provide for them. When I need strength or fortitude, I think of her, alone in her large old family home with three sons away in the war (WWII) at the same time, wondering if they will come home. It seems MUCH more difficult than what I go through, yet a bit the same, too.

The good part of being home alone is that my time is my own, essentially. If I feel like doing nothing at all, then that's just what I do. Honestly, that doesn't happen but once in a blue moon though. Inevitably the guilt sets in and I am up throwing in a load of laundry or cleaning something or setting myself to another list. I'm getting used to the quiet of being alone too. Like sitting in a forest by yourself, my house has it's own noises and rhythms that I have grown accustomed to and am at peace with. Rarely do I even turn a radio on, or my ipod, even.

If I had to tell the truth though, I have to admit that I am crushingly lonely. My son has his own life, now engaged and with the agenda that goes with now "cleaving" to another person. My husband has his work life, which seems SO seperate from me because he makes it so. I have lots of friends, of course, but they all have their lives, so I don't see them all that much, either. And my daughter is here, as I have said, but that's a project all of it's own and her company is not anything I count on. So I am home alone in my lovely home, craving interaction, affection and just a little bit of attention. And feeling very guilty and needy that I do.

So I blog. My dear friend Kate is gone now, and with her passing went the daily interchange that I relied upon for feedback in my day to day affairs. There are others that I share my thoughts with, but none so much as I did with her, God rest her. Now my thoughts just go out into space, like they do as I sit in my home folding a load of clothes, or writing out checks, scrambling an egg, etc. It's an existance that I live with, but not happily. I long for really sharing my life again with someone, preferably my good husband. Not sure when or if that will happen again. And I am sad. REALLY sad about that. I miss him not just in the physical sense of being here, but I miss him being present with me mentally. Even when he is here, he seems a million miles away and apart. I think it's because we spend TOO much time apart.

Now I throw my thoughts out into cyberspace. Not that anyone is reading this or cares, but it helps to get it out there, I suppose. To fling the words from my fingertips and own what I feel inside, good or bad. Because there has to be a purpose in my being alone so much. Perhaps it's because God wants me to learn to love myself a bit more, or at least be comfortable in my own skin. I am, I guess, at peace with who I am. Enough so that I'm not afraid to put pen to paper (or fingers to the computer keyboard) and share what is on my mind every now and again. But oh, wouldn't it be nice if I could be less alone, less in my own head, and sharing my life again on a daily basis with my spouse. So I wait. And blog. And make lists of tasks that give me something to do, but not so much purpose. And that is why I write, I guess - because it's better thinking that SOMEONE might read my words and understand or care, instead of just having the words rattle around in my head with no chance of human/social interaction. And as I write that I acknowledge how pathetic that sounds. I'm not such a drippy, needy soul as that - it's just that I need more. Now.