Campany's coming

Danny djjo will arrive this afternoon for a weekend visit and I can hardly wait. We haven't really had a piece of time alone together, free of any major commitments or agendas, since the long weekend at the beginning of August, and even then my daughters were with us at the cottage. To say I'm looking forward to this is, well, I can hardly put into words what I'm feeling right now.

The handwriting analysis yesterday raised interesting questions about being a loner: 'Van is very self-sufficient. He is trying not to need anyone. He is capable of making it on his own. He probably wants and enjoys people, but he doesn't "need" them.'

This sums up a process I've gone through the last few years, partly inspired by the book Intimacy and Solitude, by Stephanie Dowrick. The thesis is: we can't achieve genuine intimacy with others unless we can experience intimacy with ourselves in a positive way. In other words, if we hate being alone, we'll also be miserable in our relationships. Learn to love yourself, and it will overflow to others.

Lately, I have noticed my anxiety symptoms (that prickling along the neck I often experience) vanish when I arrive at Bill and Danny's house. Before starting treatment with the anti-depressant Remeron I tended to sleep better when Danny was around, but very poorly when alone at home.

We're pack animals, programmed by evolution to thrive in company. When we're alone, instinct causes us to feel uncomfortable and dissatisfied. I can feel it in my flesh, this programming. I'm beginning to understand that while I may appreciate solitude, a human being isn't predisposed to enjoy so much of it.

The graphology test says I'm trying to make it on my own, and truthfully I'm afraid of needing anyone too much. When we need, and people let us down, it hurts. But I'm happiest with people around me who I love and can be myself with. It's one of the reasons I decided to look for shared accommodations this fall.

Being around others teaches us, too. Living together, we can't always do exactly what we want without stirring up unpleasant responses. We might have to do the dishes a day earlier, not neglect the vacuuming so long.

For years I did things like that only because people expected them of me. It came from my family of origin. My parents keep an immaculate house. I've seen my father haul the vacuum into the middle of a New Year's party because he spotted a crunched chip on the floor. My parents were always on my case to clean my room, but Mom rarely waited for me to do it. It would get done while I was at school, then I would come home and begin the process of excavating everything I wanted again.

The first few years I lived alone, my apartment sank deeper and deeper into disorder. But the process of becoming my own best companion taught me to start looking after myself. If I kept the apartment cleaner, I felt more comfortable inviting friends over, and then I felt happier with myself.

Right now the place is a mess. I still haven't rectified the summer dropping-off syndrome. Tidying always becomes a problem when I get distracted by my inner world. This fall, distracted I have been.

It's time to wake up. My lover is coming. I want to clear the air and make the bed. I have dishes to wash, laundry to fold, papers to tidy and carpets to vacuum. In a few hours I'll be ready to share again. I can think of it as work, or lovemaking.