Life Choices

In 1985, in a "Superstars of Rock" interview, the great philosopher Steve Perry, said "I guess it is safer to be lonely, sometimes."

He didn't say it's safer to be alone. He said it's safer to be lonely. The connotation is there is a longing to not be alone. That says so much.

For me, the statement "it's safer to be alone" would be more accurate. After my divorce I walked away from an engagement and have never married again. It's not like there have been a bunch of proposals thrown in my path since 1995. But my Mom was married and divorced twice. My dad was married 3 times, divorced once, widowed, and then he died. My brothers have both been married and divorced twice, as has my sister.

Maybe being the youngest, I am the one to break the chain. Married once, divorced once. I mean - who wants to be a statistic, anyway?

Although it would be nice to have someone to lift heavy things and fix stuff. And I don't give a rat's a$$ whether or not that's sexist.

A Drawback or Two

There are things I really like about not having a significant other living in my home. I am so used to having my own space, it would be really tough to learn to share it again. The choice of TV programs is always mine, there is no compromising or sitting through something that bores me to tears. If I want to skip breakfast (lunch or dinner) and choose to eat at 3:00pm or start my day with leftover birthday cake -  there’s no one wagging their finger at me telling me I need to eat better. And really, if there is leftover birthday cake, why wouldn’t you eat it for breakfast?

 

If I can’t sleep and want to put the TV on at 2:00am, there is no one asking me to turn it down, or off. And if I want to sleep in grandma pajamas there is no one rolling their eyes at me for being, well, a grandma! If I want 17 cats (I don’t!) I can have them, and I don’t have to consider my decorating in terms of being too feminine or .. too anything, really. It only has to appeal to me. 

There’s no one to say “who are you talking to?” whenever I’m on the phone. No one to ask “where are you going?” when I walk out the door. If I want to leave the house at 11:30pm to mail a letter there is no one to ask 20 questions about what I’m mailing, who is it to, and why can’t it wait till morning?

However, there is also no one to let me know my makeup is smudged, I have cat hair on my pants, or that I’ve got chili (or wine, I guess) on my shirt so I don’t find it until it is dry and the stain is set. 

Those things are important too! But important enough? Lol! NAH!

There is just nothing easy about it. Part I

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Depression. When someone suffers from depression they are so alone. Maybe not in actuality - but they may as well be. The overriding feeling is hopelessness. There can be a mind numbing nameless feeling of not being able to see the point in your being alive, what part you could possibly play in this life. That does not mean you are suicidal, although many are. There are levels. It is complicated.

I think my depression began in my teens. When I was 18 my Mom and I had to move out of our house because according to her divorce agreement - when I turned 18 she either had to buy out my Dad's half of the house - or it had to be sold. She could not buy it and my Dad had no qualms about sending his new wife over to paint the bedrooms in preparation for uprooting us, me, from the home I had lived in since I was 5 years old. My Dad was such a lovely man.

We moved into an apartment in a nearby suburb. I had just broken up with my boyfriend, dropped out of high school, and I locked myself in my new bedroom for over a month. I imagine I came out for the necessities, but for the most part I have very little memory of that time. I know I slept a lot. My Mom approached me one day and asked "are you okay? Do you want to talk to someone?" What??? My Mom didn't make things happen. She waited for things to happen and then reacted to them. Her coming to me like that was - uncomfortable. "like a psychiatrist or something? No. No I don't". And that was the extent of it.

I do remember the butterflies and feeling of sudden panic when she mentioned that to me - she had implied something was wrong with me. Nothing was wrong with me. I was very quick to assert that to myself. I was just at loose ends. We had moved and my friends weren't calling and my boyfriend was dating someone else and I had attended what was supposed to be my graduation - in the bleachers. But I was fine. Really. I repeated that to myself over and over again, for years to come. There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with me. Really.

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