In short order it will be the anniversary of “leaving.” I left my former home (and by extension, my second husband) in mid-March of 2020.
What should have been a rush out into a new life with new possibilities, was, instead, a rush from one form of isolation and loneliness into another.
Don’t worry, this isn’t a whining post.
It was a bit of a shock, I’ll admit. Leaving a person who wanted me to be as housebound and uncommunicative and as much of an introvert as he, only to have a virus force me into being very selective socially—introverted and uncommunicative. Ha!
It was still an improvement, and in some ways, that continued isolation was a positive thing. In many ways it was awful, but I want to steer away from that. Many of us have experienced the awful of 2020 and early 2021.
The good stuff:
I spent a lot of time on the phone with my brother who is also, necessarily and unfortunately, isolated and grieving. Our different griefs, shared in long conversations, allowed me to see my circumstances through his lens and not just through my self-involved pain. This has been an empathy-building experience, not just with him but with others, as well. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in that regard, but learning to balance my needs with that of others is a process, not so much a goal.
Another advantage of the solitude: I didn’t immediately go nuts dating. Not that I didn’t immediately go nuts looking.
Here’s my history: I went straight from High School to my first marriage within a year and dated only my first husband during that time. We had two dates before he proposed. Yes, I was young and stupid. Why do you ask?
After our divorce, I immediately fell in love with my second husband who I had known at work for well over a year.
Fast Forward to 2020: the year of living slightly less stupidly, if only because that’s what universal chaos made me do. I couldn’t date after this divorce because of COVID. I have a little job and I meet a lot of lovely people, but they are brief and transient exchanges about work, the village, beach life, etc.
I did not meet anyone with which to fall in love. I did not date and decide to give away my autonomy again out of loneliness. I worked, I wrote, I flirted, and I felt the sting of rejection here and there. Though it did require meeting and dating some in recent weeks, I learned rationally and viscerally, I really don’t need men. I do enjoy a man’s company and perspective (among other things), but needing anyone right now is a disquieting idea for me, especially needing a dedicated companion. This is my take on companionship and not a reflection of how I think others should behave. See here for key points.
All of this points to a single, fundamentally positive notion about 2020 and early 2021 from my selfish view. While it had its hellish days, days I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up, I grew.
I had to go through a bit of the “boy crazies” because I never had that chance as a young adult. I had to experience being completely without another human being in my home for months on end because I have never had to do that. I had to relearn to be open and friendly like I was thirty years ago because it is a normal and healthy part of life that I require. I had to relearn how to interact with others without the fog of self-hatred. (I’m still working on that one.)
I must heal these things, and more, for me to move on and start the real work of determining where I want to be this coming year and the years after that if Universal Chaos allows.
I have ideas but lack a plan. I’m winging it and winging it is scary. But, when I left that house (and by extension, the order and planning the man within it brought to everything), I knew I was walking out into something unpredictable at best.
And that was the beauty shifting subtly under the pain of leaving and isolation: escaping suffocating order and expectations to greet chaos and growth with joy.