At 4am this morning, Kim caught an Uber to San Diego Airport to take the early Delta flight to NYC. I do not envy her her time in JFK Terminal 4, my least favorite airport terminal in the world. My next trip to NYC, which will be in eleven days, will be on the less convenient Jet Blue flight, which at least will put me into Terminal 5, which is far more manageable even though it is still in the disaster zone called JFK Airport. Kim is going to NYC to attend the 60th birthday celebration of one of her good friends, who, by the way, has also been a friend of mine for 20 years. She is carrying our team flag to that event and using the trip as an excuse to see her array of theater friends as well as to have tea with my/our daughter and granddaughters. Kim is still way more connected to the Big Apple than I am, but I will be able to test that further given that my upcoming visit will not be for the relatively short term of 4 nights like hers, but will be for up to 19 nights to accommodate a trial in which I have to give expert testimony. Kim could probably fill up 19 days of dinners better than I will be able to (so far I have arranged 4 and have another few potential co-conspirators with which to connect). The bottom line of this is that over the next 31 nights, I may be sleeping alone for 23 of them. That’s more time without Kim than I have spent in any month for the last 20 years and it has caused me to ponder whether I can handle that much alone time.
Let’s face it, we all have a certain amount of ability to take care of ourselves on our own. Some people actually prefer that state of solitary existence. I’ve never understood that, because I decidedly do not do alone particularly well. I have joked with people that since I was 22 (the year I first got married), I have not been outside of a committed and exclusive primary relationship for more than 10 days. I am a disgrace to bachelorhood, to say the least. I have occasionally regretted some of those committed relationships (only the short term ones that did not end in marriage, I can honestly say), but I simply am driven to be with someone else and to work to make that a loving relationship. I know that some of those women (I can claim a 100% heterosexual relationship history) might disagree with the notion that I worked at all times to make for a loving relationship, but I bet I would still mostly get agreement from those women if I bothered to poll them…or could even locate them. I doubt any of them would say that we broke apart for lack of my effort, whether well-directed or not. That all means that I start to get antsy when I’m alone for any length of time. If I am aware that the term of my solo flight will be short, that helps, but if I go past a day or two the horizon does not calm me and I am generally unable to see any meaningful light at the end of the tunnel. This morning I am sitting here facing four and half days by myself in this house (Buddy is tucked away at the doggie day care center). I have work to do on my upcoming trial, but I am starting the break with a motorcycle ride up into the San Jacinto Mountains to the little town of Idyllwild. There is no purpose for that other than to get out and take a ride with my new riding buddies, but it will serve to clear my head about my impending alone time.
This house is about 3,800 sf in size. It is bigger than the two of us need and we both know that we can live comfortably in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment of somewhere around 1,700 sf with no difficulty. I don’t know for sure how many square feet I need to feel comfortable by myself, but I suspect its less than 1,000 sf, though, God forbid, I never want that to be necessary for any reason. I need a small kitchen, a comfortable living room with a desk, a bedroom and a full bath…technically a ¾ bath since I need no tub (perhaps a half bath as well). That means that I am knocking around a house where in the next five days I will not use four of the seven rooms and am explicitly restricted by Kim from using one of the 2.5 bathrooms we have (she has a guest coming when she returns). I will also barely use the kitchen, perhaps as little as 20% of its capacity. I know from experience that I tend to keep a pretty neat house when I am by myself. I’ve had housekeeps going back to my days in Toronto after my first divorce, tell me that I leave a very small footprint in terms of how much I mess up a home by myself. When I get out of bed, I sort of make the bed (casually) and since I am not a restless sleeper, its never very messy in the morning. I keep the bathroom very neat since my ablutions are very regimented and not at all random or splashy. The only things in the kitchen which gets use are the microwave and the sink. All dishes and cutlery are immediate put in the dishwasher (something I’m sure Kim wishes I would do when she is home.). I suppose I have to declare that I use the living room, since I’m sitting there right now writing and watching a Netflix series, but I don’t think that gives rise to much for the housecleaning to do in my wake.
Being all by myself has less to do with my physical space than my head space. There is a solid argument to suggest that this is an underlying psychological issue for me. Not liking to be alone can reflect several psychological patterns and needs like anxiety about intrusive thoughts, which means that when alone, you’re more likely to ruminate on worries, regrets, or negative self-talk without external distractions. It can also be about low self-worth, which can translate into feeling uncomfortable and struggling with self-acceptance or having a harsh inner critic. It can also indicate external validation dependency where you rely heavily on others’ presence or approval to feel okay about yourself. While all those are possible, I tend to favor the ever-popular fear of abandonment, wherein solitude might trigger deep-seated fears about being left behind or rejected by others. I was abandoned by my father at 4 years old after all.
I prefer to think that this all has more to do with Kim. Kim is so important to me and is so special that I feel totally justified at being at loose ends without her. Eric Carmen wrote All By Myself in 1975, the year I graduated from college. When I was young, I never needed anyone. Livin’ alone I think of all the friends I’ve known, but when I dial the telephone…nobody’s home. All by myself. Don’t wanna be all by myself anymore. I never needed anyone. Those days are gone…all by myself.