Being with someone versus being alone. As I traverse this journey, alone at the moment, I hesitate and reflect on the differences. There are many many things I miss by being alone. Another's touch. Another's conversation, another's quiet breathing next to you at night, the dip in the bed from their body. Another's laughter, jokes that make you laugh out loud and feel good. Gifts, I miss gifts from another, the time they take to pick it out special for you, wrap it, surprise you with it and look to you for a response in the giving. Hugs, kisses, fuck I miss kissing.
Some say being alone becomes easier, almost a way of life you get used to and comfortable with replete with perks like choosing your own movie to watch or playing your own music loud with no worry you are pissing off someone else. All that freedom to go and do whatever you want whenever you want with no one to answer to or consider. No one to have to curl your hair for, or wear your uncomfortable clothes for. No one to hear words from that hurt you.
I have thoughts about aloneness verses togetherness (especially recently when I heard a man I don't know said I have a real sadness about me). Ultimately I am a person who needs to be with others. I am an extrovert, I feed my soul around others. I am not a person who yet enjoys her own company, at least not most days. I also realize, and it is not a happy realization by any means, that I fear I will be alone until I like being alone, and worse, that I will not have sex until it doesn't matter anymore. Not that sex is the only thing about togetherness, it isn't, it is just one of the bigger things when you are alone, or for me it is. And to think that you will be without it until you don't care anymore is sad. Just one of those thoughts, like the one I had after Terry died where I feared I would forget him and our life together until it didn't matter anymore because you had to get on with living your new life. Did that man pity me or have empathy? The difference is important to me.
Is this healing from grief?
If it is I want no part of it. I do not want a life I never asked for, to become comfortable, complacent and content even happy in a choice I didn't pick for myself. I want to run from that, kicking and screaming. But you can't can you? Oh you can fill your life with empty meaningless togetherness, one night stands, friends with benefits, but that is not what I am talking about here when I speak of togetherness. I am talking about someone to cook in the big kitchen for, or to come home to them cooking for you. I am talking about fucking wanting to curl your hair for someone, and having that someone worthy of it reciprocate your feelings of wanting to be together. Togetherness, a hard task indeed, especially for a women my age. On the other hand, I think humans are incredible beings who are resilient and adaptable and able to overcome the most incredible losses and rise above their shitty life circumstances whatever they may be. But what about if you can't despite your desire and best effort?
And here is where I am stuck.
If I am totally honest with myself I am stuck, and have been for awhile now, stuck between this place of togetherness and aloneness. I fill this purgatory as best I can, albeit most days with unhealthy habits, discontent feelings and daydreaming of a better tomorrow. I hear others speaking to me through this limbo I am in with their kind words of encouragement, you will not always feel this way, you will be happy again, you will have sex again, you will find someone. But it misses the mark. These are kind but empty platitudes, a poor consolation for a warm embrace with a person you are actually together with.
Is this yearning part of healing from grief I ask?
So writer of your life story, how to set the next chapter? How does the protagonist escape her purgatory? This is where momentarily this writers block comes in. I only have experience of a year here (most of it discouraging or worse) much research is yet to be done on how this plays out. The protagonist grows weary and more discouraged with her attempts, with the passing of time, with the seeing of true togetherness in others. I will say it again-it's shameful and hard to admit, this aloneness, but pity is not the desired result. This writer is much too strong to stand pity from others, it's the worse response. Be angry for me, hold me where I am at, but don't pity me when you see my sadness.
Until she writes out the ending to her story, maybe grief looks like just staying stuck sometimes. Holding oneself in staying stuck. So sing it to me Janice and I will listen and be happier.
"Oh sit there, ah go on, go on
And count your fingers.
I don't know what else, what else
Honey have you got to do.
And I know how you feel,
And I know you ain't got no reason to go on
And I know you feel that you must be through.
Oh honey, go on and sit right back down,
I want you to count, oh count your fingers,
Ah my unhappy, my unlucky
And my little, oh, girl blue.
I know you're unhappy,
Ooh ah, honey I know,
Baby I know just how you feel."