Hitting the Wall

Two weeks into the solitude stage of the Crisis, and things are great. Really. Who needs the demands of another person, the need to tolerate their foibles and irritants? I do what I want when I want, and answer to no one. A man’s dream!

I am a horrible liar.

Hmm, wasn't there last time I looked...

Hmm, wasn't there last time I looked...

It hit me after this weekend that no matter what strains a relationship might have (and lord knows we have had plenty during the Crisis), some of the routines and habits shared with another person, and just his/her sheer presence, can be pretty damn comforting. My job keeps me in solitude plenty enough as it is, so interacting with Samantha at the end of the day has always been important for my sanity. (Or course, at times it has tried hers; after a long day of dealing with other people non-stop, the last thing she needs is my jabbering at her…). So, as each day’s solitude adds up, I feel more untethered.

Consider this: from Friday evening to Sunday evening, I did not exchange a word with another person, face to face. For two weeks, I have not touched another person. Knowing how therapeutic a simple hug is, with no erotic intent implied or needed, I fear I now have cells throughout my body preparing to go rogue and mutate into cancer.

Yes, I have lived alone before. And I had a hugless (and more) period of several years before I met Samantha. But at least I had human interaction on a daily basis. I saw my neighbors, I had a part-time job that got me out of the house. And the point is not can people survive being alone; it’s that after almost ten years of never being away from Samantha for more than a week at a time, this is hard. Made harder by the fact that I never cultivated a deep friendship base here in Chicago, for a multitude of reasons which are fairly moot now as we prepare to leave. And face it, even in CT, where friends and family are plentiful, I will not be in physical contact with anyone on a daily basis. People have their own lives, for god’s sake.

I’m taking some comfort in knowing my sister is coming here today for the weekend. Of course, it’s not like conversing is easy, as she has a hearing problem. And it really won’t clear up the whole hugging thing, aside from hello/goodbye. But it will be human contact. And next weekend I’ll be back east and spend three days with Samantha. That will be nice. Until we start to drive each other crazy again and I can’t wait to get back to Chicago. By myself. With the whole apartment to myself, so I can do what I want when I want, and answer to no one. A man’s dream, indeed. For about a week or so at a time, max.

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~ by mburgan on April 23, 2009.

2 Responses to “Hitting the Wall”

  1. Welcome to my world. Sometimes when I take a shower, I hold my hands and cover my face, just to smell a human being close to me. Sometimes I yell “I Love You” just to hear someone say it to me. Sometimes I talk out loud as I lay in bed trying to sleep so I don’t feel alone. The radio is always on all over my house, just to so I can hear another voice. And as the years go by, menopause and age deliver blows to my body and mind, I feel depressed in the thought that I will never have a hug, a kiss, or intimacy again. That should make YOU feel better.

  2. Well, not totally. But you’re right, it does make me appreciate that my situation is temporary. And it does make me–to quote a former prez–feel your pain and wish it would go away for you.

    Where did that name come from (although I think I know, since I never heard back last week…)

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