I love a day alone at home. I can tune into myself, find my own rhythm without any sense of obligation or accountability to anyone but me. Personal time at home is something I need. It doesn’t happen as often as I like because my husband works primarily from home, but last weekend Doug was scheduled for a job that would take him away. I’d have all of Sunday to myself. I’d been looking forward to it all week—secretly, because if Doug knew just how much I cherish my time to myself, I thought it would hurt his feelings.
We had a lovely Saturday together and we were feeling close. Then that evening Doug realized he’d been mistaken, he wouldn’t be flying out until Monday. Now we could do something together, he reported cheerfully.
UGGGGGH!, My day to myself was snatched away! I couldn’t have hidden my disappointment if I tried. The intimacy we’d been feeling vanished, replaced by a mutual disappointment with each other. I was disappointed with the loss of my personal day, and resentful of Doug for his mistake. Doug was disappointed that I didn’t want him around. He said he would spend as much time away on Sunday as possible to give me time to myself. He didn’t complain, but to me, he looked sad and dejected. And that wasn’t the kind of personal time I wanted, nor the way I wanted to get it.
Instead of enjoying my personal private Sunday, I was haunted by a whole bunch of yucky thoughts and feelings—disappointed that I was not going to get the day I had envisioned, guilty that Doug’s feelings were hurt by my disappointment, angry that I “never” get much time to myself, anxious that this conflict made me feel separate and alone, and confused, wondering if my desire for alone time was reasonable or not. Was I to blame for Doug’s hurt feelings? Was it selfish of me? Or was it his fault for messing up his schedule and for failing to give me enough space?
Despite my raw feelings and confusion, I knew in my heart that when we blame ourselves for our desires, or blame others for getting in the way of our desires, we are assuming the stance of victim, a powerless position from which personal growth is impossible. I knew that wasn’t me. I didn’t want to merely survive this Sunday, I wanted to reclaim it. But how?
I had a strong urge to try to retreat. I could apologize, and find something we could do together to bring back a feeling of connection. But was that an any better answer to the dilemma than laying blame? Where was my urge to fix things coming from? Was it from an expansive and loving place or was it fear of losing connection?
The answer, I knew, was fear. Instead of trying to smooth things over, I committed myself to move towards my values of honesty, my own health and happiness, and courage to stick with my alone time even though it may be hurting him. This was my personal responsibility to myself. That Sunday turned into a day of practice. I practiced saying what I wanted. I practiced allowing my feelings of guilt and anxiety and anger to wash through me without acting out by accommodating Doug or blaming him. I practiced my expansive mindset, reminding myself that If Doug is upset with me, it does not mean I have done something wrong. He has a right to his feelings, and I have a right to mine. And I practiced honoring my higher values of Self-Acceptance, Authenticity and Courage.
Last Sunday was not the day I had been looking forward to all week, a precious day of personal time. But in retrospect, it may have been something more precious. A day of personal growth.
Hi Jennifer, Very thoughtful and well written piece. Thank you. Being left alone is a wonderful opportunity to meditate, cook, exercise, read, whatever. It can also be very revealing as to our true nature. I have been left alone many, many times, beginning as a kid by my mother and father as they went off to work, and again as a married man. What we all discovered in this during this time is that if I am left alone too long I will leave. The experience brings out in me the desire to move, and I do. I ran away from home the first time at about ten, left permanently at seventeen and when I finally got married and was left alone — so that my wife could go visit her mother — I wound up buying a large touring motorcycle and, one day, rode away. There is a poem that comes to mind by Mary Oliver that describes my feelings at the time. It is called “The Journey”. I modified it somewhat for my own purpose. It now begins, ‘One day I finally knew what I needed to do, and began…’ It is the act of beginning that is the most important. I wish you luck and love.
Hi Richard, always nice to hear from you. It sounds like being left was a painful experience for you and that you would leave yourself as a result. Am I understanding this correctly? I am very interested in your perspective.
Very nice and very insightful, Jennifer. Thanks for sharing just exactly how tough it is to speak your truth and then stand how it feels to others even when you have tried your best to do it in a good way. I love the way you examine all the things that come up for you and let them percolate until they are a brew you can digest. That takes courage.
All the best,
Gail
Thank you Gail, I really liked your metaphor of letting things brew so that they are more digestible. Yes, that is pretty much how I live my life!
Thank you for this, Jennifer and the reminder that I can take these times as places for growth. I’ve had similar experiences you describe so well and it is refreshing to re-think how I can relate to them.
Thank you Susan, is is always great to read comments and I am please this was refreshing to you!
Great post. I am often in a version of the same situation. Thanks!
Hi Jennifer! I think a lot of us experience this, whether we are wanting more space, or wanting more time with our partner, a challenge and opportunity for growth either way!
Exactly!