The Importance of Knowing When I Need Solitude and Then Making it Happen.
I almost wrote “…and then asking for it” but I shouldn’t need to ask someone to give me space. I should just take it. Tell. Not ask.
Recently, I decided that I wanted to spend some of my weekend without my boyfriend and like any woman, I was afraid of offending him by saying as such. I wanted to work on my house, hang out with my kids, have football games on in the other room, make some dinner. Just be at home.
There was a period of time during said weekend when both kids would be out of the house and I would be there alone. Blissfully, gratefully alone in my own house. I was really looking forward to that. It is not often that I get to be alone in my house these days. I know they are coming, when the kids are grown and gone and I’ll have more ‘alone in my house’ days than not.
Until then, I was going to enjoy those few hours before the chaos began again. I wanted to say, “I want to be alone for awhile” to my boyfriend but reconsidered since it sounded a bit reject-y. I considered something more amenable like “I want some time alone if you don’t mind” but that sounded a bit like I was asking his permission. I shouldn’t have to ask someone’s permission to be left alone, let alone in my own house.
I decided on something between the two and went with “I want to be alone in my house for a bit, before the kids get home.” Not asking. Telling. He just said, “okay” and that was that. As it should be. I don’t need to explain.
He texted later, hinting that I was rejecting spending time with him and I responded that I wanted time alone to recharge. Just do my thing. He doesn’t live with me so when he is over, there is a sense of me playing hostess and I didn’t want to do that.
The solitude in my house is important to me. My mornings are filled with routine of getting children up, fed, dressed and out the door. Walking the dog, going to the bus stop, heading to work. All things that need to be done.
Afternoons and evenings are the same. Children need fed again, encouragement to bathe, more encouragement to put down devices, helping to tidy up our communal spaces. Those moments when I can just sit on my couch and stare at the wall, or dance around the living room with a scarf over my face, are few and far between and I have to say that I honestly enjoy them when they happen.
I’m certain the tables will turn and in the next decade, I’ll be wishing and wanting for those chaotic moments when the children are back and have their significant others with them or grandchildren and the house is delightfully raucous.
Until then, I will say what I need and then make it happen. I don’t need to ask permission.
