It’s funny how I can feel totally at home and at peace with myself in the woods, going to bed just after sundown, not worrying about entertaining myself too much (well, except books), not feeling the need to interact with humans, but the second I start moving back toward the city I feel lonely. Being around people is what makes me feel lonely. It’s also what I crave. What kind of brutal paradox is that? Hmph.
I wrote that about a month ago, after I returned home from a camping trip. Saturday I returned home after a week on vacation. Tropical paradise vacation. I traveled with friends, and spent a week as part of a unit for the first time in a while. Having time to myself again and falling asleep in an apartment that’s empty except for me was both lovely and lonely.
My moods are up and down and back again lately. History is repeating (or I’d like to think it is), except this time I make the right decisions. The trip feels like a line in the sand; I had my escape and now it’s time to hunker down. In a month I’ll be officially, legally on my own. A divorcee (ooh, fancy; where’s Henry James when I need him?). I’d like to cross that threshold with my life in a certain order.
Step 1: kill jet lag.