I have always felt that I know myself pretty well. I spend time alone, I am very introspective and I’ve had lots of years to figure myself out. I try to push myself to be better while still trying to accept myself as the flawed yet fairly acceptable person that I am.
I can go on and on about myself, what I like, what I dislike, what I believe, and what I care about. I can tell you quirky, disorderly things about me and tell you how regimented and scheduled I make my life. I can go on and on about my passions (don’t get me wound up talking about writing or theatre or cooking or decorating) and I can go on equally as long about my aversions (people who act like they know everything and chocolate.)
After a big project and lots of days out in the world surrounded by people, my hermit like self needs a break. Day after day of seeing people and trying to be nice (although I don’t always succeed) takes a toll. I need a little quiet and solitude to recharge.
When the last play I directed was over, I scheduled a week of “at home” time. I had a few things that needed to get done like getting our tax stuff prepped and clearing up some files on my desk. I had a couple of lunches with friends I had neglected during the play process, but mostly I had a book I wanted to read and a Netflix series I wanted to finish.
And I did. I enjoyed a quiet week and did all of the things I wanted to do alone.
And then the world changed.
And somewhere in there I realized that I wasn’t exactly who I thought I was.
In talking to a friend the other day I realized that I wasn’t as much of a loner as I thought. Maybe it is because I HAVE to stay in and away from others that is making me different. If this were my choice, would I feel this way?
Even when I planned that week “alone”, I had lunch with 3 friends and another meal catching up with my son. I went to a movie with my husband and chatted with my neighbor in my drive way. I went to the theatre to work on cleaning up after the play and ended up getting lunch at the mall with a coworker. I wasn’t actually alone the whole week.
Those of us who tend towards the reclusive side of life have shared and laughed at memes about being ready for this particular point in time, that we have trained for this our whole lives. When I initially realized what seemed to be happening a couple of weeks ago, I thought it would be a breeze for me. Compared to some folks, it has been easier for me.
And yet today I realized how much I miss just seeing people, people I know and people I don’t know- just people. I miss the superficial talk with the lady at the store, seeing what the people at the next table ordered, hearing snippets of conversations backstage, planning my next outing. I am not as reclusive as I’ve always thought.
Yes, I can read for hours. Yes, I can piddle away at yard and home projects one right after the other. Yes, I can rearrange my furniture over and over again, swapping my living and dining room, turning my den around and around. But not forever.
Until now, I really never realized that it is a game of degrees. I knew that when I spent too much time out in the world I needed a break of solitude so I could recharge, but I never really realized that when I spent too much time alone I needed the outside world just as much. I have always gotten “forced” to join society. If I want to collaborate on a project, if I want to find out what the plan for the future of the theatre is, if I want to catch up on family news, if I want a new outfit, if I want to see the latest movie or witness a friend get married I had to get out and amongst the masses. I always had a reason I had to go out, so I had to fight for my alone time.
Now, I am forced to stay inside and I have to be creative if I feel the need to “see” other people. And that is a very strange set of circumstances.
My father became ill on Thursday and on Friday he was taken to the hospital. I could not go to the hospital at this point so I had to keep tabs on things by phone. It reminded me of when my mom went to the hospital the last time. Of how I stayed with her for hours on end, getting answers from doctors, making tough decisions that shouldn’t have to be made by mere mortals, but often are.
Now my father is there and alone and no matter what I want to do, I can not be there. Being at the hospital is always painful now, and I have thought for several years that if I never go back into one, it is fine by me. And yet, not being allowed to be there is worse.(By the way- he is better and should go home soon.)
I never really realize what I have until it is gone. The need for solitude gets to me when I don’t have it for awhile. Who knew that I would feel just as deprived when I got too much “me time”!?
I try for a balance in most things in life. My mom always used to remind me “moderation in all things, dear!” and I live that as much as possible. Right now, there is no balance. It is an all in situation.
I do hope that I learn the lessons from this experience and that I appreciate the people in my life more after we are back to whatever normal looks like. I hope that I cherish the overheard conversations, the small talk with strangers that I encounter, the times that I have to force myself out of my shell and into a social setting.
I hope that I get the chance to mingle at a party and struggle with small talk. I hope that I get to cheer with thousands of my fellow sports fans soon. I hope to be terrified again as I grip the armrest of a seat in a metal tube being hurtled through the sky, full of strangers on our way to some adventure.
I am sure at some point in this new future that I will again need a break from the world full of people. I don’t think I am going to completely change through this. I hope that I appreciate those breaks as just that, a break for a quick moment of solitude, not the trait that was beginning to define me.
Hopefully, I will remember that I need more of a balance than I realized and that I learn to appreciate both the quiet and the noise of this world.
