Solitary Confinement

This is the winter of our discontent.    The winter that never ends.   No mid-winter thaw for those of us shivering in the Northeast.  Arctic air dips down so low we set new records of temperature lows each week that passes.  As for me, I cocoon in my cozy condo.   I avoid the snowstorms and icy roads with abandon.   But even one who has a high tolerance for ‘alone time’ eventually craves the outside world.    I checked the weather and this weekend appears to be….dare I say it?   Snowstorm free.    I celebrate the news and look forward to my brother’s visit.

I have seen much solitude these winter months.   Now for those of you who fear being alone, take a deep breath and let it out.  Solitude is actually a healthy choice during a period of transition.  Don’t let others convince you otherwise.   It gives you the space to determine what you truly need in the moment.  It gives you the time to think deeply about what you want in your life in the future.   It allows you to catch up on movies you missed and read that stack of books under your coffee table. It also gives you the inspiration to reach out to others on your own terms.  To forge new friendships with neighbors who are as snowbound as yourself.  

It’s interesting how this has evolved.   The winter when my husband first passed away was endless in its own way.   I felt like I was in solitary confinement in my little condo prison.   No early out until you finish your grieving said my prison warden.  Or so it seemed.   I was comforted by people trying to help and support me.   Or perhaps seeking help and support of their own from me.  Many of those grief- forged relationships turned out to be transitional.  They were not meant to last – they were trying to encourage me and get me past the worst of the pain.  Some were doing a good deed.   May I one day pass that on to others in pain.  

What I have learned is that these transitional relationships can prove to be transformative if you allow it to be so.   As you move forward, you simply need to let them go.  Yet always remember to take with you what you learned from them.  Did they help heal your heart in some small way?  Provide inspiration or suggestions you can implement? And so I spend another winter in my condo.  I appreciate the difference between the now and the then.   I may be living in an alternate reality.   I still miss the old one.   But I see some hellos- the start of some new friendships.  Perhaps they will be of more permanence.   It’s hard to tell from this vantage point.   Only time will tell.  

Barking Backwards

Mr. MacDonald seemed so old when I was a young fourteen just starting high school. But as I reflect back, I realize that he was probably the age I am now. He taught my freshman English class and he loved poetry.   The first poem we studied was:

“The old dog barked backwards without getting up, I can remember when he was a pup.

He spent so much time on that little poem.  I think it was two solid lesson days spent on dissecting it and discussing its hidden meanings.   It made such an impact that of the many fascinating things I learned in my high school years this little poem remains in my memory.

I’ve been feeling a bit like that old dog lately.   I’ve spent much time this summer healing my injuries from the car accident and healing requires stillness.  The longer the healing process took, the more I realized that the stillness has been good for my healing heart as well.   

Perhaps all the times this past year or so when God told me ‘no’ when I signed up for some activity it was with good reason.  The number of times plans just didn’t work out for various reasons cannot be coincidental.   And the fun outings I did have were all the more special – with family and friends and each memorable in its own way.    I suspect that God knew I needed some stillness in my life to help my healing heart. 

I remember when I saw my oncologist a few months after Robert passed away.   She said it had been obvious to her how deeply we loved each other.  I shared with her that another acquaintance had mentioned how much she admired the care  and kindness with which we treated each other.   My doctor smiled sadly and said that the one problem with finding your soul mate is how much it hurts to lose them.   

If I had known this simple fact of loss earlier in life, would it have deterred me from finding my soul mate?  I think not.   I’ve always felt that living life with an open heart is so much more pleasant than a closed one.  Sure – you feel pain that others do not- but your joy is great.

My doctor’s comments helped me to understand that the depth of the unspeakable pain I was enduring was a reflection of the love we had shared.   I know that my heart is still healing.  My wonderful cousin pointed that out to me last year and it holds true today.   Healing takes more time than you expect.  And stillness.   Restful, quiet times set amongst the busier moments.   I may be barking backwards just a bit longer.  Although, I am starting to remember being a pup.