Alone for the Weekend
But not a lonely weekend. One of the beautiful things about being an introvert is that I find myself to be wonderful company. And sometimes, I crave time to be alone, free to explore what I think and to do what I want to do. I’ve done silent retreats, trips alone, and now, a weekend at home alone. It was glorious.
I found this in my slippers after everyone left. My heart melted.
I felt selfish when I asked Tommy to take the kids somewhere for a weekend so I could just be alone. One of the consequences of the pandemic for me is that there is much less alone time in my life, and with three kids, a husband, a business, and friends on Zoom, alone time is scarce in my life anyway, so cutting back really feels like a deep cut into something that keeps me going.
Tommy is a great partner, and I appreciate that he found a way for me to have that alone weekend. Only I can know what I need. And sometimes I need the space to be curious enough to find out what I need.
I spent the weekend doing two things - allowing myself to experience the pleasures of being home - having a glass of wine with the fire and my favorite trashy show, baking my favorite cookies, eating popcorn every day, planning a fun Halloween dinner party, taking a mid-day bath. But I also devoted myself to doing the things that I have learned over the last (almost) forty years care for me in a different way - journaling every day, writing, exercise, and meditation. These steps, while not as exciting, are the cornerstones of my own well-being. It’s easy to skip them - no one else cares if I journal, or meditate - I am literally the only person affected by these choices. But I am so affected by them - the diving into myself fuels me for the rest of my life.
Over the last couple of years, I have been building out my self-care toolkit. The daily, weekly, occasional, or monthly activities that help me feel my best and that help me realize my own potential. I have learned that the time and money I invest in setting up ways for me to access these activities in ways that I enjoy and will do over and over is time and money well spent. I have an Obe subscription (for dance workouts, barre, cardio boxing, and yoga), a Peloton, a Headspace subscription (for meditation - I just love the voice), and I pay $5 per month for a subscription to 750words.com. This one you may not have heard of, but it’s an extension of a habit promoted in The Artists Way, to write three morning pages of whatever every day. That makes my hand hurt, so I type them. I think I’m getting much the same benefit of the daily journaling / brain dump, and the benefit is huge for me.
I have learned that I cannot sit still - I am terrible at maintenance, at being in one place, at staying the course on a flat road. I thrive with a challenge, but it also depletes me. I have to refuel, so I can blast off, but then I need to refuel again. The time I spend refueling is part of the journey. I heard a podcast that explained this life rhythm as a heartbeat, bum-bum to pump, and then a rest to allow the blood to flow. I’m not a doctor, but that does describe the rhythm of life also, and life doesn’t continue without the pause. The pause is just as important as the work.
For all the effort I’ve put into learning how to work effectively, carefully reading Getting Things Done and a litany of other business and productivity books, podcasts, and trainings, I have spent precious little time until the last couple of years on the pause. On finding out how to do the pause well, to care about both sides of the rhythm, and to embrace how both are part of the flow. One cannot exist without the other.
A few months ago, I felt so wound up that I wanted to release and stop doing the pump, the push. I wanted to rest so badly that I was lost, without knowing what I wanted or needed. I stepped away from work, and tried to just do the pause all the time. It turned out that wasn’t really a life either - without the push, I was aimless, an arrow floating without a target in sight. And an arrow aimed at nowhere is only destructive, randomly hitting something on the way down. An arrow can only serve it’s purpose with a target, with a goal. I feel that I am the same. I must have the push, and I must have the pause.
And so now, I have to find a new way to live my life. One that involves pushing when it’s time, and pausing when it’s time. I am not a good multi-tasker - I am drawn to an absolute of work or an absolute of play. But that’s never going to work, I know that now. I have to find a way to hold both in time, in the correct pattern, back and forth, over and over, never staying in one gear for too long.
I come back to the idea of modeling life for my children - I want them to see me journal, exercise, meditate, and yes, sometimes watch trashy tv with wine. Because seeing those activities, the intentionality behind them, which I can share, I hope will equip them for the “Tuff Times”. It’s the action I have taken in my life that has best equipped me, and I cannot stop them from having struggles and ups and downs, but I can try to give them tools to keep going when those things happen. To understand that to know yourself, to care for yourself is the foundation of a good life.