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Happy Wives and Stay At Home Moms Still Get Lonely

posted 27th August 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, Family, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

One day we took my husband to work and headed to the little petting zoo in the next town over. The sun was shining. It was warm–warm for March in Chicago: 53 degrees according to the car. My son was happily speaking his toddler-speak…something about planes, sky, and going to the “zoom.” I had all of this wonderful light, bright, happy, great stuff going on, and yet. . . . And yet I was so overwhelmed; drowning in sorrow, loneliness. I almost started crying.

That morning I just felt so alone. There was no one to share my happiness with that day. No one to share that school-girl giddiness. No one to call up and meet for coffee and a quick chat in the backyard. I missed my old home. I missed my friends. I missed the tall oaks–how they lined the streets and shaded you from the mid-day sun. And the broken-up city sidewalks with their names set in blue and white mosaic tiles at each intersection. I missed the strawberry smoothies and melt-in-your-mouth croissants from the coffee shop down the road. I missed the old craftsman windows and Tudor peaks, the sirens from the police station on 63rd, and the neighborhood market with its fresh flowers and juicy scallops.

I am used to being alone.  After all, I am an INFJ—emphasis on the “I”.  My family moved around a lot when I was young (it is difficult to cultivate deep friendships when you move every 1-3 years).  Before children, my Saturdays were spent walking down to the coffee shop, reading best-sellers, watching movies in bed, and running on the trails— alone.

There are few whom I call friends; I consider most to be acquaintances.  And over the past few years I’ve become quite stingy with my friendship, extending it only to those whom I deem worthy.  (Wow. I hope that doesn’t sound like I think my ish don’t stink.  I just am more careful about in whom I invest my time and energy.)  Yet, lately I find myself craving connection on a level that I never have before.

I was not prepared for this loneliness thing.  When I envisioned my life as a stay-at-home mom I saw myself carting the kids to and from playgroups and playdates, chatting it up on the park bench while the children slid down the slides.  There is some of that, but not nearly enough.  It turns out that as I have gotten older, become a wife and a parent, making friends has not been so easy.  Family schedules don’t always mesh.  Children do not always play nicely.  Parenting philosophies differ.

I thought that I could fill the void by connecting with my tribes online.  Don’t get me wrong—the places and spaces I found on the internet are full of inspiring individuals and communities.  They are uplifting, supportive, encouraging and all around awesome!  However, they are no replacement for real human, face-to-face interaction.  Virtual hugs do not compare to the warm embrace of a kind soul.  I prefer “LOL”s to be literal: deep hearty laughs exchanged over a glass of wine and a medium pepperoni pizza. We humans are not made to be alone.  I need to go find my people.

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You’re Never Really Alone

posted 15th October 2009    Written by: Marisa    CATEGORY: All Posts, Molly, Quarterlife Crisis

Marisa ScooterI find it difficult to accept help when I know I can accomplish the task on my own.  Any task really.  Well, most things let’s say, but two weeks ago I was confronted with the fact that I really do need help in certain situations.

During one of the most uncoordinated moments in my life, I fractured my foot. It was all so silly and I couldn’t believe that my klutzy self could even be capable of self harm like that, but I did it.  I fractured the fifth metatarsal bone in my left foot and it hurt.

I limped home, hoping it wasn’t too serious, and after trying to sleep during a fitful, restless and painful night, realized something was wrong.  I couldn’t put weight on it and I had trouble getting from my bed to the bathroom and around my apartment.

My cat Sophie watched in amusement (one can only assume) as I tried to hop around at 3 a.m. and not break my other foot.  I was faced with some choices: do I hop the four blocks to the overpriced and unaffordable ER or do I wait for the early morning light to taxi it to a clinic and wait for hours upon hours?  I had a hard time deciding what to do since the pain was starting to make me sweat and having never broken or fractured anything in my life, I panicked a little bit.

So of course, I called my mom.

It’s comforting to know that I can call her at any time, day or night, no matter the issue.  That’s what it’s like when you have an awesome (all be it sometimes overprotective who offered to fly the next day) mother.  I sat on the hardwood floors of my apartment, in pain, in my jammies and with a cat that either looked very concerned or very hungry.  And after talking to my mom, who helped me to be logical at an illogical time during the night/day, I couldn’t help but still feel nervous and scared in my dark apartment.

I was alone. There was no one there to hold my hand, hug me and tell me things would be better, soothing the pain.  I didn’t like the feeling of having just my cat sit there, watching me with inquisitive eyes, wondering if I’m going to get up and feed her or just sit there like a log.

I started to feel like Miranda in that one episode of Sex in the City where she choked on her Chinese food and became scared of dying alone and/or being eaten alive by her cat.  I hate to admit it, but I went there. I wondered if Sophie would one day find me tasty if I were to ever be incapacitated and she, out of cat food.

For Miranda in that episode, having no boyfriend or significant other to rely on, friends were her support and answer.  As soon as I was able to control the ridiculous, but plausible concern of being eaten alive by my cat, I called the ever reliable Katie and Kyle at a decent hour.

Kyle picked me up, helped carry me to and out of his car and dropped me off at a ZoomCare Clinic.  Then Katie took me to Safeway once I was on crutches and helped with some grocery shopping.  Even my busy touring friend Anna visited me every day until I could walk, and we celebrated with a dance party at Holocene where I was able to dance and adore the amazing Esser.

This is what I learned: I am alone, yes, but self-reliant and not without help when in dire need. Sure, I can get a little crazy at times-I have vowed to have a never-ending supply of dry cat food in my pantry-but still, I have people who support me and I in turn, support them.

It works.  And until I find someone to be there at my side to soothe the pain at 4 a.m. in the morning, I can do it alone most of the time, especially with wonderful friends.

And a full, over-fed cat.

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