All Alone, On My Own.


I ran across this picture this morning that Word Porn had posted on Facebook, along with the question, “Do you spend enough time alone?” The answer was instantaneous for me.

No. No, I don’t.

I used to spend a goodly amount of time alone, which is kind of integral for someone with my personality. It was when I would recharge, when I would get my energy back. It’s when I recounted my experiences, searching through my thoughts and my emotions, and figured things out. It was also when I relaxed. There were those quiet hours on Saturday morning, just me, my coffee/hot chocolate, the cat, and the TV/book/front porch/whatever I needed that day. There was the hour or so spent watching movie trailers on Hulu and getting excited for new stories being told.  There was quiet time with just me and my journal, my thoughts pouring out to be pored over and their implications considered. But, of course, ever since having my daughter in 2012, that’s rather gone out the window.

During the summer, I would grab my alone time while Bizzy napped. My exercises, a shower, lunch, and perhaps even time to read, journal, and nap. Now, it’s winter, she’s older, more mobile and active, and naps don’t last nearly as long. I am also less active, not being able to go outside nearly as often, so I tend to opt to nap when she does now over anything else, for fear of waking her as well as being just exhausted.

I have to admit, I miss being alone. I miss being quiet and reading. I, a noted bibliophile, have read finished only one novel since Bizzy was born over a year ago (though I have memorized Ten Little Fairies), and I’m practically over the moon that I have read almost 100 pages of Diane Setterfield’s Bellman and Black.  I miss watching people, getting lost in a crowd, content in not being noticed while I observe the world around me. Yep, I miss being alone.

I’m not telling people to go away. I’m not saying that I am tired of my daughter. I am just an introvert who misses her alone time.

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