It’s pretty clear that over the last six months, since retiring and dropping out of polite society, I’ve been systematically reducing eliminating my 1-to-1 interactions with the outside world. For awhile I thought it was because things there ended so badly -- after I left, they ended up losing about a quarter mil in grant funding, lost about half their program. My former boss was let go. It wasn't pretty.
But I don't think that's it, not really. It hasn’t been a conscious thing; just an uptick in random cancellations, regrets that I can’t accept this or that invitation (other plans, other plans), the refusal to answer my phone. For the most part, I’ve stopped returning calls that don’t involve someone bleeding out. I take long days to return emails. Phone calls? Ha ha, why is my camera vibrating. You can try texting. Voicemail? Forget it. I’d sooner reply to a fax.
This doesn’t mean I’ve been isolated. Far from it. I have my recovery zoom group on Tuesday evenings, and another zoom group on Wednesday with HUMTC. On Wednesday mornings I have tai chi class, and on Thursday it’s piano; I’m starting a class next week on making lamp work beads, and on Fridays a class in wire-wrap. I get out: I ride my bike an average 12-15 miles a day. I do stuff: I’ve written 20,000 words of my book.
I’m active, I’m engaged, I’m out there, I’m livin’ my best life. I still like interactions with small groups, if only for limited amounts of time. Say, a tai chi class, or a piano lesson. I’m not overly interested in the details of other peoples’ lives. I’m just not interested in 1-to-1s anymore, sorry. I don’t want to be your bestie.
* * *
It occurred to me recently that I can’t remember the last time I had a sustained 1-to-1 conversation with anyone. And by “sustained,” I mean for more than about 10 minutes. Anything more than that is a business meeting that should have been scheduled. It should have come with a scope of work. It should state an agenda up front. More than 10 minutes and I want to know my deliverables.
Is it my time? My attention? My assistance? Do you just need to vent? Fine, call your mother. Call your therapist. Call a friend.
Have I always been this way? Surely not. No. I’ve had friends, right? Good, close friends, the kind you share your hopes and dreams with, the kind of friends you call when your back is to the wall, the friend your trust your innermost thoughts and feelings and secrets with. Here’s a fact: Those relationships exhausted me. They still exhaust me. People exhaust me.
* * *
When things on that last shitty job had finally gotten to be too much, when the culmination of the last 3 years of finally drew to a close, after my stint in rehab, after my parents died, and I walked away from everything and everyone that had been my former life, when all that happened -- I wanted only one thing: to be left alone.
Now it’s six months later and there is literally no one who calls me anymore because I will not answer. Anyone. Period. I’ve lost interest in other people, all of them. And, blessedly, they’ve mostly gone away.
It sounds bitter and angry and isolated and sad, but in fact, it’s none of those things. It’s fucking glorious, is what it is.
For the first time in my life, I am free of other people. Their needs and expectations, their demands, their deliverables. But mostly what I’m free of is their conditions. The emotional bartering. The transaction: “If you fill this need for me, I’ll fill this need for you.”
Really? Let’s try this instead: I meet my own needs now.
* * *
Reading these words, I’ll admit, it doesn’t sound particularly healthy. We’re social beings, after all. (See also, “Not Isolated” above.) I’ll surely meet a bitter end. I’ll no doubt end up poor and alone and isolated. No one will care when I get sick with a terminal illness, or when I’m evicted from my home, or when calamity strikes. I’m certain all of the horrors will come true, and I’ll deserve to die broke and alone.
But I’ll let you all in on a little secret: It doesn’t end easily for anyone. We live in a state of existential entropy, and that’s if we’re lucky. I’ve heeded other peoples’ dire warnings all my life, and they’ve been consistently wrong about everything. Meanwhile, I’ve done well enough. I’ve gotten this far. I’ve earned my emancipation. I’ll heed my own counsel from now on, thank you.
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