So I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I spend most of my time alone. What does this mean? Well for one, it means that I've really had to learn to like myself.
It's funny because my mom spends the majority of her time alone, and I've always thought- 'no way man!' I hate the relationship that she has with my father. I don't know what's worse, that she stays with him and doesn't get to do all of the things that she enjoys in life, or that she's just given up on trying to want those things.
I always told myself that I would not have a marriage like that. And I don't, really.
David is wonderful. He enjoys a lot of the same things that I do. He's active outside (mostly when I drag him, but once there he always has a great time).
I don't know if I should blame the army or not that he's always gone. I guess we'll see in two years when he's out. And maybe it's just because I'm not working and am home all the time. Time. I have a lot of time on my hands. If I was at work, a large portion of my day would be busy, and I wouldn't be alone. So I guess I'm to blame here for most of it.
But here we are. A beautiful Friday. The weather is finally nice at 75 degrees. I'm actually a little burnt from laying out yesterday. David and the boys have 4 days off for the Easter holiday. And yet, here I am alone. The boys went out 4-wheeling. And I am here alone. The crazy part is that I'm not mad. I'm not mad at him for going and hanging out with the boys. He needs that time. I just find myself sitting in the backyard, not wanting to waste the weather away with TV. Wishing I had a nice cool glass of white wine, and a friend to talk to.
So we learn to survive on our own. We learn to have conversations with our dogs and cats (or for you Anne, inanimate objects and in foreign languages). It makes me wonder, were we meant to be pack animals? Or were we meant to survive on our own?