the dangers of solitude
Things in the hovel are weird. This last week of study has me hitting new... I can't really call them "lows" exactly... but definitely new levels. It's like I'm burrowing deeper and deeper into something and yet, somehow, the deeper I go, the closer I get to bursting through into the sunshine on the other side.
I just don't have the time right now to say all the things I would otherwise say about this, but I'll give it a thumbnail treatment. I've been alone a lot. This weekend, I made the unprecedented decision not to spend any nights at all with SK or anybody else for that matter. I spent every night alone and it started to wear on me. I reverted to old, childhood behavior: I started talking to made-up people.
First, Sunday night, I pretended I was talking to my therapist. I didn't imagine myself in a therapy session or anything like that. I imagined myself having coffee with her and explaining to her why I couldn't have sessions with her anymore. It was interesting.
Then, Monday night, I pretended I was talking to Craig Thompson who lives in Portland and writes graphic novels. I read his novel Blankets a couple weeks ago, and Monday I finished his travelog Carnet De Voyage. His books are so beautifully drawn and his stories are so sweet and simple, I just felt like I wanted to talk to him. First I tried writing him some kind of fan letter, but that just felt ridiculous. I didn't really want to write a bunch of gushy praise anyway, I just wanted the person I imagine him to be listening on the other end of a conversation. So, I just pretended he was there and I started talking. *Much* less ridiculous than a fan letter, no?
I realized, as I chattered away to imaginary people, two things. 1.) I am lonely in my hovel, but 2.) I don't really want the input of real people. I've gotten myself too locked into something, a rut, a pattern, etc, etc. And hiding out in my solitary hovel with my imaginary friends and my barbri books is exactly what I need for the time being. I'm learning a lot about the ways I've behaved in relationships, the ways I communicate, the things I expect, the things I'm hurt by. It's hard to relate with people when you don't understand any of those things and yet at the same time you're experiencing them all. Without awareness, they all feel like ghosts in the room, you can't see them, but they're punching you in the stomach all the same. It sucks. I'd rather hide out in my hovel awhile and learn to see some of those ghosts before I go back out in the world and try to live. It's better this way.
I just don't have the time right now to say all the things I would otherwise say about this, but I'll give it a thumbnail treatment. I've been alone a lot. This weekend, I made the unprecedented decision not to spend any nights at all with SK or anybody else for that matter. I spent every night alone and it started to wear on me. I reverted to old, childhood behavior: I started talking to made-up people.
First, Sunday night, I pretended I was talking to my therapist. I didn't imagine myself in a therapy session or anything like that. I imagined myself having coffee with her and explaining to her why I couldn't have sessions with her anymore. It was interesting.
Then, Monday night, I pretended I was talking to Craig Thompson who lives in Portland and writes graphic novels. I read his novel Blankets a couple weeks ago, and Monday I finished his travelog Carnet De Voyage. His books are so beautifully drawn and his stories are so sweet and simple, I just felt like I wanted to talk to him. First I tried writing him some kind of fan letter, but that just felt ridiculous. I didn't really want to write a bunch of gushy praise anyway, I just wanted the person I imagine him to be listening on the other end of a conversation. So, I just pretended he was there and I started talking. *Much* less ridiculous than a fan letter, no?
I realized, as I chattered away to imaginary people, two things. 1.) I am lonely in my hovel, but 2.) I don't really want the input of real people. I've gotten myself too locked into something, a rut, a pattern, etc, etc. And hiding out in my solitary hovel with my imaginary friends and my barbri books is exactly what I need for the time being. I'm learning a lot about the ways I've behaved in relationships, the ways I communicate, the things I expect, the things I'm hurt by. It's hard to relate with people when you don't understand any of those things and yet at the same time you're experiencing them all. Without awareness, they all feel like ghosts in the room, you can't see them, but they're punching you in the stomach all the same. It sucks. I'd rather hide out in my hovel awhile and learn to see some of those ghosts before I go back out in the world and try to live. It's better this way.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 1:44 PM
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