CONNECTION ADDICT

I've been home alone for seven days while Hub is off on a snowboarding trip -- his first of several planned this season.  I decided after a troubling and depression-inducing couple of difficult interactions with people recently that I needed a re-set -- a "people break" -- while he was gone.  

So as soon as he pulled out of the driveway I began a silent/solo retreat where I intended to sequester myself from other people (mostly).  I had no energy or interest for being with anyone.  To do so felt overwhelming.  Plus, I was pretty sure everyone hated me, because Depression told me so.  So, I cancelled all my social plans for the week (or what passes for social plans in this time of Covid resurgence -- a couple of Zoom get togethers, my yoga class (after signing up for a solo intensive online training), a tentative in-person meet-up,  a phone chat with a friend, and all email/social media interaction.  I told Hub I didn't want to talk on the phone or email or message him except to exchange one photo each day that represented something we liked about our day or how we were feeling.  I wanted to be non-verbal.

What I noticed is that my friends all were gracious and understanding of my cancellations.  And while I don't feel addicted to social media, it felt different and weird to scroll a bit each day and not do a knee-jerk "like", "comment", or "post".  I saw some funny things, thought-provoking things, uplifting things, friends doing stuff -- and I had to keep reminding myself that I was not participating.  It got easier, but not easy, yet it felt like a good exercise in self-control anyway.  

Which led me to think about how important connections are to me.  I am an introvert and as such close and intimate friendship, longstanding friendship, social media friendship, all feed my soul.  I don't need or want to go to big in-person gatherings, although I have and I can.  There is misnomer that introverts are loners who don't need others or prefer to be alone.  Sometimes I do prefer to be alone, appreciate being alone, crave being alone...but that in no way points to being someone who has no need of other people.  I, more than most I think, really do need to feel part of a group, part of people's lives, someone people like and care about.  I work hard to try to ensure that happens.  I try to be a good friend to get a good friend. I work at organizing and facilitating groups of people and have for 50 years in some capacity or another.  I don't avoid people!

Yet, as with most things, my people-craving tendency likely goes back to a childhood of being fairly 'invisible' in my family, the middle "good girl" between two sometimes rambunctious brothers who sucked up all the attention, even if lots of it was negative.  I sat quietly, waiting, while I watched my self-esteem evaporate.  My parents were loving and caring and I was in no way "neglected" in the classic sense, but neither was I seen for who and what I was in any meaningful way, except to be praised for being "good" or point out the ways I could be better.  

Naturally there is lots more to this story, but at this point in my long life I am finally coming to terms with my "addiction" to need to be in connection with other people.  

Recently two incidents occurred that stabbed at my little girl wound and I went into a tailspin of self-loathing.  That was not productive, but if you've experienced depression you understand that a significant "trigger" event will drag you into the dark hole with zero ability to access rational higher executive order functioning to "talk yourself out of it" -- nor can anyone else.  

But I have learned over my lifetime, that eventually the Monster will grow tired, I'll find a lifeline in a book or a friend's kindness, or an "a-ha" conversation or a train of thought, and I start to climb out again.  That's where I am today.  Plus the sun is shining -- always a gift in these dark gray winter days.

So this thing with people:  I felt I needed to experiment with being truly alone.  I needed time and space to think about the triggers that pulled me under and what part I played and what part others did--mostly around agreements made and broken, expectations dashed, fears of emotional abandonment showing up as judgement.  

I needed to also just STOP trying so damn hard to analyze everything and just "be"; this week moving through my days as I was called to internally:  read, eat, clean a closet, meditate, listen to a podcast, write, nap, watch TV, go for a walk, consider taking a shower...giving myself permission to let go of any and all obligations and expectations for accomplishment, productivity, or people-pleasing.  When any ruminating started, I stopped it in its tracks with mindfulness awareness of only the present moment. (Thank you to every meditation teacher I've ever had! 🙏🏽)

I find myself today in a place of peace and contentment, feeling a sweet longing to welcome Hub into my little cocoon of warmth and silence when he returns.  I have no illusions that "real life" won't intrude upon my refuge when I open the doors again to interacting with people.  And I again will be imperfect in those connections, as will others.  

But what feels different is that I have practiced being alone -- physically AND emotionally.  I don't need to grasp for and crave "belonging" in order to feel safe.  I just need to be quiet and at peace with my own company, trusting my own inner guide and nurturer. From this place I can let go of all longing and expectation for relationship and connection to feed me and make me safe.  I can welcome it when it comes and allow its absence when it doesn't.  This might seem easy or like commonsense to some of you.  We are all different with different hurt places. I've lived with mine for a long, long time.  Maybe this is a step in healing it. 

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

Is anyone else out there a little afraid of the dark?   I hate to admit this but several weeks ago I had a pretty horrific, adrenaline pumping sleepless night because I was awakened at 1:00 a.m. by what sounded just like the door to our side yard slamming shut in the room just below our bedroom.  I know that sound, even thought I'd felt the vibration of the slam.  I sat straight up in bed, heart pounding.  I was home alone.  Immediately I felt very vulnerable in this big 'ol house.

Also, I felt silly.  We had an alarm system installed in 1986 after a bad guy broke in to our basement while I was home with infant Son One.  He fled when he heard me calling 911 from upstairs.  Still, that was enough to keep me in "fight or flight" mode for a good long time.

Even now, I guess, I still have a high alert response to unusual noises in the night.  I'm always overly self-protective when I'm sleeping here alone.  Alarm on; all doors double locked; maybe a little light burning in the kitchen.  But once those compulsive security measures are taken I usually sleep great, enjoying the bed to myself for a day or two.

But not this time.  I lay awake and alert for a good half hour, hearing every creak and moan of the house.  Finally,  I got up and tiptoed to the window.  All dark and quiet.  No cars on the street.  The wind was calm.  Nothing moving.  I shuffled over to the phone to ensure the lines hadn't been cut.  Nope.  I heard a strong, steady dial tone, so the alarm was working.  (I never should have watched that TV movie some years ago where the bad guys came in during the unprotected daytime open door and hid inside until night when the family was asleep.  I mean, really!  Who thinks this stuff up?)

I stood at the top of the stairs and peered down, trying to determine if anything looked different from when I went to bed.  No; everything was the same.  Still…I kept thinking I heard "something" down there.  I stood motionless for probably 15 minutes.  Then I slowly descended the stairs, clutching my cell phone and my weapon of choice: the deadly sewing shears.  (Don't worry; I've been trained in their use, which generally involves fabric, but I figured I could improvise.)  I did a cautious walk-through and nothing was amiss.  Still….I couldn't relax completely.

Eventually, I got so tired of feeling frightened that I nearly decided to check into a hotel, just to make the anxiety stop.  Quickly I decided against that extreme measure.  I thought of calling Son One to see if I could crash on their couch, but the thought of his heart racing when he saw me on the caller ID at two in morning stopped me from doing that too. Why bring him into this craziness?  Besides, both of those choices would also require me to go into the garage…an area I had not checked in my walk-through.

So, I moved from room to room over and over, peering out, listening, wondering what I might have heard, telling myself how foolish this was and how once the sun came up I'd feel better and this would all seem so unnecessary.

Still, I couldn't imagine going back upstairs and expecting to sleep.  I sat erect on the sofa, checked the mass distribution emails that always come in the middle of the night; flipped over to Facebook and noted which of my friends was up and posting at 2 a.m. (a new mom, of course, and my night owl friend who works all night on producing a monthly arts magazine in South Carolina).

Finally, by 3:00 I lay down on the sofa and soon was asleep, awakening to the sunrise at 5:00 with stiff shoulders and a sore neck. I got another hour of dozing in before being up for the day.

And sure enough, it all seemed so very over-wrought in the daylight.  I am quite certain I didn't dream the sound, but I certainly can't account for it either.  But I shouldn't be surprised, really.  I have had that experience in this house on and off ever since we moved in….the phantom door slamming thing.

I thought we had evicted our resident ghost.  Maybe she's back.  Anyone want to come by for a sleepover?  We'll have tons of fun!

At least, that's the view from here… ©

THE TWINS

My dear friend, Introvert, is dancing a jig this morning.  Her twin, Hedonist, knows this is going to be a good day!  Because their alter-ego, Ivy, has done it again -- scheduled herself into a frantic need to be alone and comforted.  Ahhh......

She...OK... I have been blessed with activities and experiences that I consciously chose to do, so any complaint feels selfishly unappreciative.   But any introvert knows it doesn't matter if life is "good"; when it's time to be alone and drifting, the need is so strong it almost hurts.

August started with a 3 day visit by cousins we had not seen in over 20 years.  We were hosts and tour guides until they left on the next leg of their summer journey through the west.  (We had a great time with them,  gently navigating around topics of politics and religion).  In the following 2 weeks Hub and I attended to lots of home projects (sense of accomplishment), went to two Ecstatic dances (oh, such joy!), planned and went on a camping trip (nature's beauty astounds), saw a concert (love me some Blues!), went to a Buddhist teaching event (perhaps more on that another time), attended a two-day personal growth workshop (shared with friends, so meaningful in that way, but not so hot in other ways), and had another overnight visit by the cousins at the tail end of their trip (fun, but I was fading....).  They left this mid-morning.  I believe they still had the back wheels of their rental car at the bottom of the driveway when I opened the little package of Oreo cookies they left here and scooped some ice cream into a bowl and indulged a need for comfort food, uncaring about calories or carbs.

Hub is working today, something he does occasionally in his semi-but-mostly-retired life.  It's good timing since even he won't be here and the house is blissfully mine, alone.  So, my plan for today is to talk to no one. To pet my dog and hold my cat.  To watch TV.  To crochet.  To write.  To read.  To meditate.  To cook a simple dinner.  To not watch the clock or make a plan or go anywhere or do anything that doesn't happen in slow motion time.  To be quiet.

It used to feel self-indulgent to allow myself days like this.  I've learned that it is not self-indulgent to know my mental health is a priority and to do what I need to do to re-charge.

The twins, Introvert and Hedonist, will finish the big afghan today, let all calls go into voice mail, catch up on old Daily Shows, maybe take a nap.  Tomorrow and into the rest of this week I will do more of the same, along with a Yoga class or two, until I feel ready again for life's many blessings of community, experience, and abundance to unfold.  Slowly.

At least, that's the view from here...©