I came home to an empty house last evening, first time in a while. The kids were out on the town and Brooks is heading back East, so it was just me. I have noticed that being alone can trigger feelings of emptiness for me. A lot of people love being alone, and I’m not talking about unhealthy isolation, rather, spending time pampering themselves, without having to interact, just to be. I have always avoided this, and when the occasion occurs I begin to look for distractions. This is not a conscious decision, because I know that I enjoy alone time, it is relaxing, self-satisfying; but there is a part of me that wants to run away from myself, the part of me that tells me that I am not enough, that I am not whole, that I am not One. So I had the bath and the book and the computer TV and the food and it was just lovely. Take away those items and I might just jump right out of my skin. I had set aside a meditation to do last night, how perfect would that have been? Didn’t even cross my mind. The fears and the stress that comes up from whatever abandonment issues that are embedded in me are not resolved over night, but slowly, and with certainty, they are being washed away as I learn to love me and to be.
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