So when I was younger, I used to switch houses on Thursdays. Either I'd switch from my Mom's to my Dad's house or my Dad's to my Mom's house. I don't think I really thought it had as big of an impact on me as it actually did. For starters, my favorite day of the week is, and as far back as I can remember, has been Thursday. At the time, the switch took some adjustment. If I was going to my dad's, I'd prepare myself for a couple days of being alone, and if I was going to my mom's, I'd prepare for her to dote and smoke and me to have a lot more toys to play with.
What reminded me of this today was that I was all alone at my dad's house, with my dad in his room, just like ten years ago. Nothing has changed, but I have grown to find comfort in my lonliness. I no longer cry quietly in my room while my dad sleeps away the last rough 80 hour work week and miss my mother. I no longer read high-school level books while I pretend I'm somewhere else. I just sit here, and have learned to love being alone.
Talking with Rushi lately, I've decided a lot of things about myself. First, I've been taking a more serious look at my definitions of love and my relationships with those around me. Second, I've decided that this is the root of my loving my solitude.
Every Thursday at my dad's, I'd walk home from school and come home to a large, empty, squeaky house. It was scary, but it was comforting to know that I only had a few hours to bear until school the next day. I'd wait around, read books, do my homework, maybe watch TV...(I recall watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire a few times when it just came out)...but I was always alone. I'd talk to my mom for the allotted 15 minutes, but after that, I was on my own. It wasn't so bad. My dad went to bed around 7, so I'd try my best to fall asleep close to that time. Anyway, Friday mornings I was always alone too, as my dad went to davening every morning, so I'd have to pack my lunch and get myself to school on time, (which I was really good at!) and be alone the whole time. I don't remember how I felt about it at the time, I think I was just focusing at the task at hand, aka, me getting myself to school and getting a lunch out of whatever was in the bachelor's fridge that day.
Now Fridays...those were the absolute worst. Fridays were the nights when I realized how alone I was. After school, (some days I'd even go home early from school, because of Shabbos) I'd come home and get ready, all by myself. I'd shower, do all that good stuff, fix all the lights up for the next day and light candles. I think we used to make chicken or other easily made type foods, then we'd set the TV timer for a couple hours (upon my request, so I could watch TGIF and see if Cory ended up with Topanga) and that was it. I was on my own. My dad fell asleep easily within 10 minutes of sitting down on his chair, and I was alone. Bone chillingly alone. I don't know if you've ever felt the sensation of watching TV with someone while they fall asleep, and you want nothing more than company, but it's probably one of the loneliest feelings that one can feel. Especially knowing that you can't call anyone on the phone, can't write in a diary, can't do homework, can't listen to music, can't play Math Blaster...all you have is yourself. All I had was myself.
As I remember this experience in my head, it seems worse than it was. I mean, I feel bad for 6-13 year old Rebecca, alone and scared. But at the time I just missed my mom. I missed my big bed, I missed my cats. I missed the company. I guess I got over that at some point. I mean, a lot should be credited to my mom's constant need for my attention, which I wanted, even needed, at a certain age, but quickly outgrew it and saw the problems which it drew in when I needed my space. At my mom's, the constant attention oftentimes grew to be too much and eventually I'd just want to be scared and alone, at my dad's. With them (meaning my parents) it was always too much or too little. It still is.
Which brings me back to the fact that very little has changed in my life in the way of my parents. I'm still spending a Saturday night alone at home at my dad's house (which was more common as I got older and my relationship with my mother grew more and more unstable) but this time, as older Rebecca, I love this. I've grown to love this time alone. I need it, just as much as I needed my mother's attention 10 years ago. I think that I experienced the absolute worst of being alone, and I feel like most of the time, the only person who can make sense of my thoughts is me, anyway. So why not enjoy myself as company? I've spent more time with me than any body else by far, I know me. I know everything about me, I've been through so much by myself. At times, there's no better company than that.
So it's weird for me to be in the same situation just at a completely different time in my life and see what has changed, both in my head and around me.
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