Sure signs I’m spending too much time on my own

Hare eating grass

Is she really talking to me?

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time on my own lately. No clients to interact with, no telephone solicitors to tell to stop calling, and no delivery people coming by. J. is busy with two jobs–I do not begrudge her busyness for one second, as she is supporting our family by working her tail off–and I seem to have a lot of time on my hands. I normally don’t mind time on my own. Occasionally it can be nice not to have to be accountable to anyone and to have the freedom to do whatever I want.

But I’m wondering if I’m reaching solitary overload, as evidenced by my increasingly odd behaviours. This morning, for example, Jelly sneezed and I said: “Bless you.” Jelly is a dog. She does not appreciate my fine social graces. An observer, however, might have wondered why I was talking to my pet.

Earlier, I greeted the bunny that was munching on our lawn. (While we’re on the topic of bunnies, why do children leave out carrots for bunnies when what they’re really interested in are the carrot tops?) “Hello, little bunny!” I said chirpily. Thankfully no bystanders witnessed Annie talking to that animal either.

I don’t spend all my time at home, but I find that when I’m out among people, I don’t necessarily feel less alone. If I’m with people I don’t know, the loneliness quotient can sometimes be worse than if I’m home alone.

Case in point: I attend a few yoga classes during the week where I haven’t been able to forge a friendly relationship with any of the participants, even though many of us have been attending for years. I recognize all these people, mostly women, yet have never conversed with any of them. I’m not looking for friends, but brief social interaction before class might be nice.

One of these classes occurs the same day as my Cancer Centre appointments. If I’m not in the mood, I skip it altogether, but often I go after my appointment. I’ve realized that, as much as I like choosing who to tell I have leukemia, I feel especially lonely amongst people who don’t know, especially when cancer is the focus of my day.

But it’s not all about me, right? Perhaps some of these yogis are so overwhelmed by their own lives that they don’t have the energy to be responsive when I say hi. I can understand that since I can be that way too sometimes. Maybe they’d be chattier if I told them I was a psychologist. No, I don’t really want to do that. Strangers sometimes share a bit too freely when they find out what I do.

Recently, one of these yogis asked me about the blog after hearing about it. She’s been peppering me with witty and thoughtful comments ever since. Yesterday after yoga, my dear friend M. and I had coffee with said yogi by chance. I am slowly getting to know her now after years of classes together. Fancy that. But I must be careful: if she catches me talking to myself, the friendship could be over before it starts.

 

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6 thoughts on “Sure signs I’m spending too much time on my own

  1. I think you show totally normal human behavior (okay I’m not a psychologist). You only have to start worrying when Jelly (or the rabbit) starts talking back to you.

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    • PMH: Thank you for your layperson’s insights. You would make a good psychologist if you ever choose to return to school for another Ph.D. You will be the first to know if ever the bunny or Jelly engage me in conversation. XO

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  2. This yogi says, I’ve been talking to my pets, myself and even my plants for years. So no worries there. As for you chatting up the bunny….what took you so long? They are highly social creatures.

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    • Wow, yogi, you sound really weird. Just kidding, you sound just like me. I have occasionally directed my monologues to inanimate objects, which are especially nonresponsive, don’t you think? I guess, based on your insights, I’ll have to stick with the bunnies. XO

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  3. You know, it seemed to work for Snow White…those woodland creatures responded by helping her to clean up that cottage. Not sure if you have to sing as well as speak, but for help with housework, I’d keep doing what you’re doing. You may be onto something!

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    • Wow, Impus, I didn’t make the connection! Imagine if J. came home and I could tell her the neighbourhood bunnies, instead of leaving their droppings outside for Jelly to eat, had come in and cleaned the house while she was at work. That would be amazing. I’ll have to see if I can muster up the troops. And I can sing if I have to. Thanks for the great idea. XO Annie

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