It seemed easy in the beginning, after the separation, when the moving truck with the last load of the ex's stuff drove away, to think about being alone. As the mother of a young child there was never really a lot of time just for myself. All the time for myself when I was married was given a designated name (mom-time), a schedule and a time /dollar limit. There will still be schedules: work schedules, shared time schedules, children's schedules...piano, school, t-ball. But unstructured free time was going to be a weighty luxury I would have to grow accustom to.
The first time I was alone,without children, with the house to myself, there was a giddiness. The house was ALL TO MYSELF. What did I do? I danced to ABBA in my living room (my ex does not like ABBA). I stood naked in my yard. (It is a nice secluded spot). I rearranged furniture in the livingroom now that there no longer an ugly recliner in the room. (The chi felt much nicer.) I took a long uninterrupted bath. ( No one stood on the other side of the door asking to use the toilet) I ate chips and salsa for dinner.(Cook? Heck no!)
My son returned that Sunday evening and I felt refreshed and ready to begin this new phase of my life. The days were busy. By the end of each day; after stories and goodnight kisses, I collapsed into bed myself. Each day presented new challenges; some I overcame and others that overcame me. Regardless I was on the job, taking care of my son, the house and my search for earning income.
Two weeks later I have another weekend to myself. I tried to dance to ABBA again. I didn't feel the same joy. I cannot keep eating only salsa and chips every other weekend. But I do not want to cook a full meal just for myself. So I decide to go out on the town. Perhaps meet with some friends for drinks. Oh, wait, they are all married and spending time with their families. I could go out by myself. So I do. And then I realize I am a woman in my forties at a bar having a drink. I am sorta single and I must only be out by myself in a bar for one reason. Sigh....
My son comes home and life resumes its wonderful routine. In another two weeks I have a weekend to myself again. This time there is a real discomfort. A sense that I am wasting my time. A feeling of unsettledness. How exactly does one cook for one? Even when the marriage was not so great there was a person sitting in an ugly recliner who conversed with me about the news. Now what am I going to do? Watch Sex and the City on DVD again? Sign up for Match.com and fill the void? Join an ashram every other weekend? Call the ex after a couple of glasses of wine? This is a chance for sadness to sit at the table with me and ask if there is any guacamole to go with the chips. And that's okay...just as long as it doesn't ask for cheap bear.
I was a stay at home mother and wife. I defined myself by what I did during a day: how productive was my garden, how many meals cooked from scratch, how clean my house was. I was not accustomed to spending long quiet moments by myself. I needed to learn how to be a person on my own. I had to rediscover the person I was before I got married. I have talents and strengths I never knew I had. I play the ukelele now. I run at the gym. I sleep late on Sunday mornings. I make meals of bread, cheese and salad. I enjoy somedays not talking to a single human being.
In retrospect I realize that learning to be alone is part of the work of separation and divorce. Some day I may find another significant other. At which time I will be in stronger spiritual state to give and receive that kind of love. For now I am a busy single mother. Those moments alone are what allow me to be present for my son and refresh my spirit after a hectic week. I have learned to embrace the discomfort that comes with being alone sometimes because inevitably some sort of magic occurs: bliss from a living room dance, a meal prepared for one, or just the simple gift of watching a turtle waddle its way across the yard.