I’m beginning to feel as if I’ve lost the gift of being alone. In thinking over the past months and weeks, I’ve realized that I have spent next to no time intentionally by myself. This is a big change for me–in high school, college and for a couple of years thereafter, I took myself on “dates” all the time. I went to the symphony, to coffee shops with a book in hand, to wine bars, to movies, to lectures, to the park … all sorts of places, just to be alone. I also stayed in quite a lot, with a movie or a journal and a pot of tea … anything that gave me space to be comfortable, creative, and alone. These days I’m either with Braden or a friend–usually one who is also a neighbor. I entertain every weekend. And I usually have something planned for every evening other than curling up with a book.

I think that means two things: 1. that I am finally with people who I am so comfortable around that my need for time away from them is less than it would be otherwise. 2. That I am not in touch with myself. With all the hoopla surrounding my engagement and my dad’s illness and people moving, dying, having babies, I haven’t stopped to catch my breath, much less think about what’s inside my own head.

Hmm. These kinds of revelations are no good when you’re looking at a fully-booked week, with birthdays, premarital counseling sessions and a need to reconnect with your fiance before you kill each other.

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