The plan finally evolved after the usual back and forth—what about the dog? Here? There? What about Easter? How about the cat? Annie and family were spending spring break in Florida and it was the first time they’d be gone so long. We decided we’d take Charlie the dog home with us and go back and forth to Annie’s in the next town over and look after Bella the cat. And the fish. Or a friend would stop in. Then, it evolved into my staying at their house for the first weekend when they left and bring Charlie home to stay at our house for the week and we’d figure out the cat/fish thing as we went along.
Then, almost by magic, I was going to stay at Annie’s by myself the whole time. Angelo was fine with it—at least he said he was. I know he knew I needed some time alone—hell, I’ve been complaining about it for over five years. Caregiving mixed with a pandemic with a dose of cancer thrown in doesn’t really lend itself to alone time. Suddenly, all I could think of was that I had an opportunity to be alone for a week. I could still teach, write, hold classes…but I would be on my own. I was drawn to this week. I ignored Easter, my husband, my house. Everyone was taken care of… Annie’s little family was in Florida in the care of Disney and Tony’s parents. Angelo was fine. My son wasn’t feeling well but he’s an adult and doesn’t need my maternal attention or presence.
I was alone. (Except for the dog, the cat and the fish . . .)
For a short period, I feel like I slipped behind time in a way that didn’t disrupt the status quo. I could tell it was different because I didn’t feel guilty about doing it. I didn’t feel guilty about not lifting a finger to prepare anything for Easter. And I didn’t feel guilty for leaving my house—or my husband—for a week. Let me say that again: I didn’t feel guilty. It was such a strange sensation—almost as if I kept trying to feel guilty—but I couldn’t. It was as if I was led to this. I was alone. And nobody needed me. (Except for the dog, the cat and the fish . . .) And that was just fine with me.
Annie’s house is on Main Street, about a quarter of a mile from the apartment I moved us into when I first separated from my ex-husband and walking along the sidewalks of my single motherhood was like being in a time warp. At one point I walked to the local grocery and, on the way back home, almost turned into my old apartment driveway. Back at Annie’s I blasted The Pretenders on her Alexa and the first song that came up was “I’ll Stand by You”—the song I copied onto handmade collaged cards and gave to my kids on Valentine’s Day soon after we moved out of their dad’s house--when I vowed to take care of them. Time slithered around in my head and I felt the feelings of helplessness I often did then in my ability to take care of my kids. But now I feel them about Annie.
Time didn’t totally leave me alone, though . . .I was still subject to all the stupid things that happen to me on any given day. I had arrived at Annie’s a few hours after I had a temporary bridge constructed in my mouth; a very long and painful construction. Two days later, the bridge fell out and while I was able to secure another appointment the next day to replace it, I couldn’t eat or drink anything until then. Also, I broke Annie’s fancy cat litter cabinet. Purely by accident, but I scoured the house and there didn’t appear to be any glue anywhere to repair it.
I reacted pretty much how I often do when I feel the Universe is conspiring against me and sat in the bathroom crying—mostly about yet another $200 visit to the dentist on top of almost $2000 already. I lamented about not finding any (fucking) glue in the house to fix the fancy cat litter cabinet and then realized I wouldn’t be able to eat anything until hours after my late afternoon appointment (even though I was starving). Mid-tears, a new thought showed up in my brain; it said, “I can turn this around.”
I looked around to see who was in the bathroom with me saying such a thing.
But the truth is, I am the only one who can turn it around. Any of it. All of it. I began by watching an ENTIRE Amazon Prime series (Daisy Jones and the Six…not bad. A little too reminiscent of my college years, but who can remember, really?) I took more walks, some with Charlie, some not. I made myself super healthy meals and indulged in not-so-healthy snacks. I drank wine in the evenings and coffee in the mornings and had a couple of chocolates in between. I hung out with really noisy animals: If Charlie wasn’t whining to go out and play, the elderly Bella was meowing for…something. All day long, walking around complaining and hungry—which I totally get, by the way.
And what was I doing anyway? Holing up?
Hiding out?
Going AWOL?
It’s always there—at the bottom of the email or the website or the end of the text—Opt Out. And that’s what I realized that I needed to do. Opt out. Not forever and not because I don’t want to be mostly opted in, but I needed take a pause in the action. The series of events in the six years since my mother’s death have taken a toll and this time was like an immersion into all the feelings I’ve put aside. Once she died, I stepped onto a speeding track of decisions, responsibilities, choices, sacrifices. I needed a minute to take it all in.
Absorbing all the grief and sadness and anger and pain of the last six (or hundred) years is a lot for a body to grasp, but—I think—having this unexpected little fold in time has allowed me to also absorb my strengths and needs. Imagine that. One of the things that has come to me, besides that I am the one who can turn the day around, is that I also need more time like this. To open up a little space in my life to listen to what’s going on inside and outside of me. I know I’m lucky to be able to create that kind of time. And I am definitely going to do it again.
But no animals next time.
Just. Wonderful. After caregiving for umptyump years for mother, son, husband, grandsons, I am now on extended leave from said tasks. It is great to be able to care for myself. Keep making and taking those opportunities, Cindy!
Being alone is not a respite or “little space” when it’s all the time. 🤨❤️