Recently, I’ve been spending a tremendous amount of time by myself. You could say that I have always been like this. Even when I do go out, I usually keep to myself. I am big into observation and not very good at casual chit-chat. My brain doesn’t function properly in monotonous chatter. My God that sound pretentious! So be it. Still, I find this period in my life much different compared to my personal historic patterns or habits..
For starters, this is the first time in my life that I don’t have a romantic partner or a hetero-lifemate that I spend my personal time with. I guess you can call this being “codependent”. Okay, that is exactly what you can call it. For the past month I have all but isolated myself from most individuals in my world. When I do have the opportunity to spend time with friends, I try to make the most of it, honoring the time I am sharing with them. For the most part I have decided to stay away, learning the art of detachment.
To some, this may be a sign of depression. Maybe it is, but learning how to fill your time with you (this doesn’t include TV time) is a discipline in its own right. It has taken me a month just to recognize this simple truth. I have found bliss in the simplicity of life’s ignored treasure. Reading a book, doing my laundry, cleaning my living space, or writing this blog. Some people are better than others with this…I am not one of those people. After a month of pseudo-seclusion, I have found a breath of fresh air. Keep in mind, you will never be left wanting any corn or cheese when reading my sporadic lingo.
I have to admit, this isolation is premeditated and is rife with the idea that I want it to be well thought out. One of the culprits for this detachment is the cross-country bicycle ride waiting just a few months down the road. Stepping outside of one's comfort zone is, without a doubt, jarring. Stepping out is a bit of an understatement. One could say I am being shot from a canon, landing just beyond the horizon line view of what used to be a comfort zone. I’m not just making assumptions. I’ve been in a similar situation walking cross-country. I was so far away from my norm, the first two weeks were miserable. I cried like a child with ADHD that had his PSP confiscated. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The journey confronting me dwarfs my previous exploit without question.
I'm quitting my job in a horrible economic climate without a coveted degree to prove to an employer that I have value; all so that I can participate in a personal pilgrimage with a trusted friend, for god knows how long. The idea is to begin an open dialog about suicide and the societal pressures that contribute to the suicidal ideology for so many people. This new yearning for romanticized adventure does have a tendency to raise questions. Sweet Jesus...I have a thousand questions! Most people don’t get it, and have many concerns for my safety. I’m sure many of those are secretly concerned with my mental safety as well.
I recognize the fact that this isn’t normal behavior, but respect the truth that this isn’t an isolated incident. People do this all the time, case in point, as I stated earlier this is my second crack at it. Sorta. Depending on your circle, you may or may not hear about those who for what ever reason follow the magnet the pulls them to a life on the road. As much as I will miss loved ones, I can’t allow that child like notion of homesickness, if that’s what I am talking about, influence my reactions and interactions while doing my Frodo thing.
As usual, I am probably over thinking the situation, but this happens to be one of the ways my brain functions. Besides, introspective thought process has been a great mediation for the practice of letting go and falling into the moment of the always evolving NOW.
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