Michael left this morning. He's going to be in North Carolina for about 36 hours, giving a talk and meeting with people. I'm going to have to go to bed alone.
When people hear this, they tend to get this worried, pitying look on their face. "Poor dear," it says. "Her love is away, and she's been left all by herself." But the truth is that I don't mind all that much. In fact, it's my dirty little secret that I kinda like it. I am, by nature, a retiring and secretive sort of creature, and it gives me great pleasure to have long periods of silence and contemplation, during which I don't have to worry about imposing on anyone else's space nor about anyone else imposing on mine. I don't need anyone's permission to go out, and I don't need to tell anyone what time I'll be back. I can stay up as late as I want, sleep as late as I want, nap when I want, and eat popcorn for dinner without anyone being the wiser. Not that I'd actually do any of those things, mind you. (Well, okay, yes I would.)
It's funny, because I (like most people) spent a good portion of my adolescent and early adult life longing for anything but that. This was especially acute when I was in graduate school in Connecticut and Michael was starting his professor position in Philadelphia, three and a half hours away by train. We saw each other regularly, but only on weekends, I missed him so terribly during those years. I spent a good deal of time wandering listlessly around my apartment, feeling bored and strangely empty. Feeling lonely.
But feeling lonely isn't the same as being alone. It's the latter that I like. I know that Michael is out there, that he loves me, and that he's coming home soon. So even though I'm alone right now, it's not the lonely kind of alone. It's the kind of alone that I can enjoy. And I do.
My truly dirty little secret is that sometimes I even look forward to it. I look forward to reconnecting with myself in lots of quiet little ways, to making no compromises, to following my own rhythm. I'll can enjoy myself tonight however I want, knowing that tomorrow will come, that Michael will come back, and that I'll be able to slip back into our relationship rested and recharged. When we reunite, I always appreciate him and us so much more. That alone makes it all worthwhile, and might even account for the fact that I sometimes feel positively good when Michael and I are apart.
If most people are honest with themselves, I think they'll admit to feeling the same way. I love the relationship I have with my husband and the closeness that we've come to share. But it can get very intense at times, in a million little ways, and it's nice to have a breather from that. When I'm alone, sometimes I feel a happy, guilty little twinge of freedom. It's not that I truly long to be free of him; far from it. But it's in the space between our moments together that I can truly work on being myself and on being true to myself.
It also doesn't hurt that I don't have to listen to anyone whimpering about being forced to watch Pixar movies. Bring on the popcorn!
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