I recently went on a weekend retreat, and it was pure heaven. "What kind of retreat?" you might ask. Well, a whatever-the-heck-I-want-to-do retreat. Weird, huh? No workshops or classes or lectures. Just an abundance of free time in the company of about 50 other women. Not like those other vacations people go on where they come back and feel like they need a vacation from their vacation because it was so jam packed full of "stuff." No, this was a real vacation. There were trees, a bubbling stream, and a mini farm complete with a very amusing camel. I did jigsaw puzzles, painting, sticker books, and reading while in a beautiful lodge with spectacular views. I never had to worry about meals, because it was all provided. I never had to feel lonely, because there were always others around. I never had to feel suffocated, because there were little nooks to escape into. I could have stayed in this storybook land forever.
Coming home from this retreat seems to have triggered a bit of a plummet into a dark hole- yet again. From the moment I walked back into my own home, my heart just sank. Back to real life. For whatever reason, I kind of hoped that after three days away, my home would miraculously transform into the perfect environment for me. Not very realistic expectations for my husband to accomplish over a weekend, I know. But somehow I was still shocked and disappointed that everything was the way I had left it. I could change my surroundings, I know that. How hard could it be? Do dishes, laundry, clean hamster cages, file papers, play with the dog, etc. Why is that so hard? Just do it! But I can't. It's like I am paralyzed. I just look at all that there is to be done, and it suddenly transforms into a vast unscalable mountain. And thus, nothing changes. Every day I tell myself I am a bad fur-momma and how I still need to clean cages and give the dog more attention, but I change nothing. My surroundings stay in a constant chaos, and I feel powerless to change without someone holding my hand like a child. As I write this, my dog lays beside me, bored, completely given up on having any expectations of me aside from a good cuddle.
The loneliness also sets in again. I live in a big empty 4 bedroom house with just my husband. There are billions of people on this planet, so I am frustrated and angry that being lonely would even be an issue. With all the homeless people in the world, I look at my home as a constant reminder of how wasteful and selfish it is to have 3 extra bedrooms, complete with beds, vacant. I severely loathe my time alone. It is uncomfortable to the point that I would rather not exist than continually have to tolerate it. Some people say that I need to get used to being alone. I think that it bullshit. I want to be around people, even if they are simply near me and not interacting with me. I don't think there is any shame in that. What makes tolerating lonesomeness a value? You might as well tell an introvert that they need to get out more, interact more, socialize more. That's not who they are, and I don't see why I need to learn to be comfortable alone on a regular basis.
Then there is the sleep issue. I can't seem to get enough of it. If I have a reason to get up in the morning like work or other plans, then that's great. But the past three days the only power lifting me from my slumber is me, and I don't really give myself much of a boot. I have my body trained to get up early, eat breakfast, read or watch a show, and then go back to bed. I generally won't get up again until I actually have to be somewhere. I am genuinely tired and sleep great throughout the late morning/early afternoon. Part of me hates myself for it. It's a waste of my time and my life. What's the point of living if this is what it amounts to? Then I look at the alternative- the loneliness. If I were to stay awake instead of going back to bed, I would again be in that dreaded discomfort of being alone. So I guess there are no options that I really like. Either I sleep and feel guilty, or I am awake and uncomfortable. Either way, it sucks, and I hate the feelings that accompany any of my options.
I'd like to say I can wrap this up with some sort of wisdom or life lesson, but I've got nothing. I guess all I can hope for is that my brain will adjust back to the real world at some point after this plummet from the blissful existence of my weekend retreat.
