Comments on: Solitude v. Loneliness

By: Rick Neece

Rick Neece — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 10:17:11 +0000

India, I was thinking the same thing. The sugar buzz should subside about seven this evening.

By: India

India — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 05:24:08 +0000

Y’all’re making my teeth hurt.

By: Mary Jeys

Mary Jeys — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 05:08:41 +0000

Oh Danny! And Rick Rick Rick! You are the best! That life sounds most wonderful. (Especially the normal sleeping)

By: Danny

Danny — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 04:07:40 +0000

Clusterflock couples therapy. Could we charge for this?

He kissed me on the forehead before falling asleep. He really is the best.

11:06 p.m.

By: Rick Neece

Rick Neece — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 03:16:58 +0000

Um, y’all. This is pretty accurate. He knows me. How does he tolerate me?

(The “deep thoughts time” in the a.m. includes cleaning up the kitchen from the night before. “An hour of mindful work” before I start the day.)

By: Danny

Danny — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 03:03:16 +0000

Based on 21 years, 10 months, 22 days of experience partnered with a solitude requirer, the following time schedule seems to have worked out just fine for most days of the week…

4:30 a.m. arise (or like me, stay in bed an sleep like a normal person)
4:31 a.m. think deep thoughts while grinding coffee beans and such
4:35 a.m. feed the cat, pet the cat, shoot the cat with insulin
4:37 a.m. pour coffee, fire up the computer, read all of the late-night posts from Clusterflock
6:00 a.m. take a shower, get dressed for the day
6:20 a.m. turn on CNN and watch standing up while eating breakfast
6:40 a.m. kiss Danny on the forehead (or like me, begin to awaken like a normal person)
6:55 a.m. out the door and off to work

(All consuming work, filled with “people” and “frustration” and occasional “flashes of brilliance”)

5:30 p.m. return home, pour a cocktail, kiss Danny on the forehead
5:35 p.m. feed the cat, pet the cat, shoot the cat with insulin
5:37 p.m. pour another cocktail, go out on the patio with computer, read and post to Clusterflock
7:30 p.m. dinner and a movie (usually a “chick-flick Danny wants to watch”)
9:15 p.m. pour another cocktail, go out on the patio with computer, read and creatively post to Clusterflock
10:30 a.m. brush teeth, kiss Danny on the forehead, go to sleep

Repeat.

By: Rick Neece

Rick Neece — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 03:00:50 +0000

I learned solitude, as a general preference, early in life. "Showing up" in most of my interactions with people outside my own family, was an invitation to ridicule or worse. I learned to disappear, in a corner, in a book. On the bus to school, I would hunker down in the corner of a seat by the window. (This on the ride home only. Being the last pick-up on the morning bus route, I had to find some kind soul willing to let me take the barest edge of the seat in a very full schoolbus.) These days, I enjoy the company of lots of folks, but end of the party or end of the day, depending on how much I have to "show up" in the world for either, I might retreat. Danny allows me this, he knows I need it. Still we spend time together nearly every day (sometimes by phone if he is away someplace working). I felt lonely only before I met Danny. I think I've bored y'all with this before, most of my "daily dose" of solitude I find when I wake up, somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning. This time is being "messed with" lately. We started summer hours at work last week and the staff is coming in at 7:00 am. I need to adjust accordingly and I haven't yet. I need to get up an hour earlier.

By: Kelsey Parker

Kelsey Parker — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 02:25:06 +0000

Deron and Sheila— I think you’re on to something with the idea of learned social interaction. It’s hard to understand how a child of an expansive family could require so much solitude, but then again… Like Chris, my siblings are spread out in age. My middle sister is six years older and my eldest, 11. If we wanted to include the stepbrothers that I never lived with, we’re the Brady Bunch in parallel ages… But I’ve never known any of them more than I know my cousins — present at family gatherings, but nothing more.

There’s 18 and 22 years between me and my little half-brother and -sister, respectively. And in many ways, their unceasing desire for attention is more exhausting than any other social interactions in my life. I think I’ve matriculated the training for Older Sister Interaction though, because I miss their insanity if I go too long between visits.

By: Michael Smith

Michael Smith — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 02:22:48 +0000

I started running in the third grade. We’d go down to the beach and run around a small grass field. I didn’t like it much. As we got older the distances grew with us. With distance came space. When I was in the 9th grade things got more serious. Races got longer, practices harder and the space between the runners got greater.

The beauty of running was that, even shoulder to shoulder with a teammate, I was alone. The effort was mine, the pain was mine.

When my doctor suggested I stop running because of a slight scoliosis that caused inflamed muscles in my back it was natural for me to find a new outlet.

Enter the bike.

By: Sheila Ryan

Sheila Ryan — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 02:21:55 +0000

Chris, that’s right on target so far as this only monkey is concerned.

Problem is, people can get awfully hurt and confused by the mixed signals sent out by some of us only monkeys (and only monkey-like monkeys).

I wonder whether growing up as such isolated savages we fail to learn something basic about modulating our responses.

I like to think I’m pretty flexible and easy-going, but over the long haul and in an intimate relationship, I suspect I am not.