As I was preparing for her return earlier in the day, with Lauren’s generous help as we cleaned house, I had a few thoughts circling about the week behind us and the life ahead. At one point in the past week, she said she thought I would enjoy the experience but was glad she went alone. Somewhere deep in my psyche, an insecure child quickly ran to the chalkboard and drew two stick figures of a man and a woman and then a sharp angled line separating the two just before the pressure of his forceful drawing caused the stick of chalk to snap in two. As if her statement was somehow a rejection or an indication of disconnection.
Having issues with insecurity can be fucked up, but it was simply an ingrained reflex, knee-jerk momentary thought that quickly passed. It passed because I got it and felt the same in both directions. As I said to Mark and Wendy a short while before heading to the airport to get her, I missed her for the first day or two, and after that, I was, sort of like… “Huh..”.
I remembered being alone. It’s been a long LONG time since I was alone for any stretch. And I needed that reminder to bring me back to a better baseline than I’ve been at for some time.
Sure, Tommy was home and coming and going, and in many ways, our rapport and interactions were generally calm and positive and healthy, reasonably so, and far better than they have been. In general, the time alone this past week gave me a much-needed opportunity to reconnect with myself, my own patterns and needs, and my core ‘baseline’ nature and flow.
I do well with patterns and routines. It’s an aspect of my character that brings to mind the term “spectrum.” Having everything in its place, being able to focus with minimal distractions, and having the mental ‘space’ to think and process and reflect on any thoughts or ideas without having to stop midstream to respond to one of what frequently feels like an endless stream of inquiries and interactions lets me explore and immerse myself so much more in my moments. Just like traveling alone gave me the opportunities to bike all around and about an island in Singapore, to drive about the Irish coastline, to take in a spur-of-the-moment play or symphonic performance in London or Amsterdam, or to sit for what felt like an hour studying the textures and strokes of Seurat’s massive “ Bathers at Asnières” in the National Gallery in London.
Jennifer got that this week. The week alone was needed for me, too. I’ve recovered a small part of my perspective that’s been lost over the past years spent in such proximity. Some aspects of the routines have become erosive in some manners.
This is not in any way to indicate I don’t love and adore her or my kids; it’s to say that I love and adore feeling complete and intact myself more than I do feeling relatively fragmented, distracted and unfocused to the point that I forgot well before her departure that I would be picking them all up on their return. And with routine, as our daily dog walks, the patterns we follow include the same routes and the same relatively routine patterns of conversation.
Her trip has proven to be good for both of us. It broke the pattern and highlighted an opportunity to make some alterations. To find and incorporate more “independent study” environments, to revisit and promote exploring more options in how we spend our time together that expand our shared experiences which have always been rewarding. Ultimately, to be as complete and present as we can as individuals in our marriage and partnership.
I remember the earliest days in our relationship when I’d anxiously anticipate our occasionally getting together. When we did, I was aware and grateful for who she is as an individual and for the things we would find, do, learn, and explore together and in our time apart. I have a favorite quote from one of the books I read in the 80s about relationships by “Merle Shain” that has stuck with me since then. I’m paraphrasing, but the gist was that two people on an island alone soon run out of anything unique, new or fresh to bring into their interactions.
Last week, before she left, as I was up writing while she slept, I heard the soft ‘clicking’ she makes when sleeping due to some nasal-related scenario. It’s just a soft click with each breath, but it’s distinct and something I found endearing and even calming in our earliest days. I heard it last week and stopped long enough to recognize it and remember that it’s something I appreciated and recognized and still want to while I can. To not get so routine that such simple moments are lost to the movement on regular exposure. They’ll be amongst so many subconscious things I might overlook at the moment but will consciously miss should she pass away before me. Breaking from the patterns we’ve been following has altered my intentions in positive ways that I hope to keep focused on now that I’ve had a chance to be reminded of their value, just as I have been about the importance of my own time and contributions too.