“Solitude is not an absence of energy or action, as some believe, but is rather a boon of wild provisions transmitted to us from the soul.”
Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.Sunday, 4:05 p.m.
I’ve been alone for 28 straight hours now this weekend. It is luscious.
A little unnerving.
A little uncomfortable at times.
I’m leaning into it.
I feel happy.
I’m not trying to please anyone else. I don’t have to compromise on writing and reading and napping and getting some work done.
It’s pretty fucking wonderful.
A bit lonely.
With the key discussion, I was able to take a step back. A bunch of steps back from a relationship with Hinge Date #1. We started dating one fucking month after I left Hoppy Sporty Sport. I was not looking for relationship, just another fuckboy to add to the stable. Well I definitely got a fuckboy but I also got someone who’s crazy in love with me. Goddamnit.
Yesterday we were trying to work our way through the reason I didn’t want to give him a key. I told Hinge that he began dating a not-quite-formed person, one who is figuring out fully who she is. One who is not ready for a lifetime commitment. He seems to think saying I love you means a commitment. Does it? I told him that it’s like the “Mother May I?” game where in three steps he’s at the end of the line and I’m still taking baby steps to get there. He interrupted to say that there are still steps, living together and maybe getting married. Yeah he didn’t get what I was saying.
I still love Hoppy Sporty Sport but I don’t want to be with him. I don’t love the Hillbilly I was married to but I never did. Can you love who someone is but not really want to commit to them fully? Please tell me your thoughts on this.
What have I done with my 28 hours alone?
I went on a 9-mile bike ride, ate a yum salad, took a two-hour nap yesterday, made chicken and salad for dinner, did homework for my college classes and went to bed at midnight. I got up when I wanted without someone saying that I “slept half the day away.” I made a fuckton of bacon and eggs and feasted on it, watched a movie on Netflix, ran to the corner store in the rain for coffee creamer without someone shaking their head at my lack of planning ahead, watched CBS Sunday Morning on You-tube TV since I don’t pay for TV (no one was upset that I don’t have local TV and they can’t watch the news at 6:30 a.m.). I was getting ready to go out and about and felt fucking tired. So I took a goddamn 1 hour nap. Hell yes. I then went to a little sammich place and had a Cubano and a pear cider and read “Women Who Run With The Wolves.” Fuck yes. That’s me. I’m getting back to my Wild Woman self. I’m writing this while sipping my goddamn blueberry sage decaf latte’ and I’m heading to yoga in five minutes.
Here’s the cool thing about Hinge. He knew I needed this. He heard me. He suggested it.
Off to yoga darlings. Thanks for listening. Get you some solitude girl. You deserve it in all the best ways.