A writerly friend of mine took herself away for the week recently. A week of blissful solitude in which she could do on all the things she needed to catch her breath and recalibrate. Oh my, am I envious!!! A writer’s retreat. A mother’s escape. A respite from work and home and the minutiae of real life.
I’ve always adored time on my own. It grew out of withdrawing myself from everything to read and write on my own in my bedroom. It rescued me from the anguished (hormonal) emotions that ravaged me (all of us) while navigating the teenage social landscape (no-one likes me, they’re all doing things without me, I have no friends…).
My favourite place as a child was in the spillway of the dam. We lived in a little hamlet outside of town, hobby farmlets really for people with aspirations of a good life. Or The Good Life, more likely. Vegetable gardens and chooks and we even had a few sheep for wool and their ability keep the grass down. I am very well aware, thank you, that Ardley is in many ways a replica of that home that I have built with my own children.
Alone does not always equal lonely… but sometimes, let’s be honest, the two can go hand in hand. There are times when solitude appears just when what you really need is the company of others. When we first moved to Bendigo, in the time before I met new people and found my place, back then I was desperately lonely. Thank goodness that didn’t last for too long!
By the time 2020 made itself known and I was handed more alone time than I’d ever had in my life I was more than happy to indulge in some quiet. Ardley proved her mettle as a place of safety and we retreated to our various WFH stations. I travelled to and from the hospital every day on roads that felt abandoned past buildings with windows shuttered, reminders of how life used to be lived. I wrote this next paragraph in my journal in late April 2020.
It's like my people have been given the promised land. Not just the opportunity but permission to be at home. Permission to stay home. An open invitation to pick up favourite hobbies, read, listen to music. Go for walks on your own. But don’t socialise. Pure heaven. Can a lifelong introvert wish for anything more?
Apologies to those of you who did not enjoy slowing down in lockdown. I’m well aware my perspective is not now and certainly wasn’t then a popular one!
Only three months later I wrote this…
I walk, almost desperately in the hope of exercise. I also secretly wish that my choice of trail was perhaps not as remote as planned. That I could accidentally run into a friend, just an acquaintance. Hell, right now a friendly stranger would actually be ideal. Someone I can actually speak with, pass the time of day and comment on the beautiful Autumn afternoon sunshine while the dog pulls impatiently at his lead. In the usual chaos of daily life this would be an escape and I would walk chanting in the rhythm of my steps ‘please don’t let anyone else be here, please leave me alone’. Not today. It’s like I’ve gorged on chocolate and, teeth hurting and skin sallow, I roll over and pat my extended belly and whisper ‘please, no more’. I’ve over-indulged in solitude and now I need to cleanse.
Ah. You can apparently have too much time on your own… so, obviously, I decided that was a good time to come home. Sigh.
The pendulum still swings as wildly as ever but these days I know how to seek out whichever it is I need.
I’ve been blessed by the company of some of the most incredible people. Women who’ve joined me out in the bush on hiking adventures; colleagues and family and new acquaintances turning into dear friends. I’ve met some inspiring writing friends online, of all places, some of whom have become ‘in real life’ buddies. I actually don’t need to be on my own when I do any of these things I so love to do.
The rest of the time I work in my Eyrie, alone except for Woody and Jesse. And Tallulah of course. There I find silence. As much of it as I could possibly want.
So how on earth is it possible that with all that ‘quiet’ at my disposal I still find myself craving solitude?
On a hike where the air was bitingly cold and my thoughts equally crisp it came to me. I may be spending some lovely time physically on my own but this new online life of mine has meant that I am bombarded with people every single day. Their activities. Their ideas. Their pace of life and their achievements and their chatter. Oh, the chatter! I think I may have unwittingly overindulged…
I was sitting on the couch with the dogs at my side feeling the internal grumpiness that visits every now and then. The first signs that things are off-kilter. I know what I need to do!!! First steps – a social media hiatus. Then I’m going to find a way to have my own writers retreat! I’m going to take myself on that solo hike! One day, I will take myself on a solo camping adventure! Hang on… that one might still be too far even for me.
The pendulum is finding its way back to the midpoint and, along with equilibrium, I’m finding my appreciation for solitude has returned. I write every morning in my journal about how lucky I am to have all these people (you!) in my life. And then, on days like today, I realise that perhaps I just need to sit back for a couple of days and hold out that cup of mine for a big refill of solitude.
It’d be quicker in silence but Jesse dog is snoring in my ear.
