The Healing Powers Of Solitude

There has been a longstanding agreement among my children that there is the ghost of an old lady living in my basement yoga room. They all agree she exists and their interactions with her range quite a bit. I have never felt anything although our dog would never go into the room. And one day when my twin grandsons were visiting, one ventured into the room and then came running out screaming, terrified. They were two years old. My sister had odd premonitions with death as well. She called my folks late one evening asking about our grandmother. She was very concerned. When my mother called her early the next morning, all she said was “Farmor died didn’t she.” Later when we talked, she explained that she felt our grandfather in her room when he died. He said goodbye to her. She was ten years old. It turns out that my sisters call came just after Farmor died.

Now I have no intuitions or feelings when it comes to those who are dead. Usually. After my Mom died I struggled with her loss much deeper than my fathers death. I thought it was because I was now an orphan. A fifty year old orphan. I guess part of me wasn’t ready to be the oldest generation in the family. That was reserved for old people. I didn’t feel old. But I think I finally came to realize that I just still needed my Mom. I dreamt about her a lot in those first months after her death. The dreams differed, yet the theme never varied. I was always trying to catch her or find her or touch her. The last dream had me in a bus station sitting in a shoe shine chair. My mother came around a corner and walked past me. I called out to her and tried in vain to get out of the chair. When I finally got away from the shoe shine guy, I turned a corner just in time to see Mom enter the ladies room. As I tried to follow, I felt someone holding me back. It was my Dad. He held tightly onto my arm and wouldn’t let me follow her. I struggled to shake his grip loose, but he held on tight. He just said “You have to let her go.” It was the first step in letting my grief evolve and in some ways lessen. I am grateful to Dad. But it wasn’t the Ghost visitation my sister and kids experienced. My feelings of energy comes from live people, not those who have passed on.

Throughout my life I have had very strong feelings about people. Not judgements, although I do that as well. It is more of a disturbance in my personal space. There have been times when I am speaking to someone or just meeting a new person and I get this horrible feeling and I have to step back from them. I can’t really explain it. It is almost as if I need to protect myself from their energy. This started when I was a small child. It has served me well through life. But it can also be overwhelming at times. When we were younger we would go to football games or hockey games and I would enjoy the games yet there was always some anxiety. It was worse at the hockey games. After football games, by the time we reached the car I was so overwhelmed by the crowds that I would just cry all the way home. It was much worse with hockey. I felt panic before the game even ended. I think it was because the arena was enclosed while the football stadium was outdoor. Through the years I learned to close off the world energetically speaking in order to protect myself. From what, I was never sure. My naturopath made me aware that by doing this I was closing off not just what I felt to be negative energy, but also good energy. He felt I needed to find a better way to cope. And I did.

I had an imaginary sack made of loose weave burlap. In situations where I felt uncomfortable I would see myself step into it and pull it up over my body and tie it around my neck. In my mind, negative energy was large and unable to pass through the holes in the loose weave. Whereas the positive energy was much smaller and could pass through easily. Visualization was a lifesaver for me. Funny thing though, when I coached high school basketball, I taught the girls to imagine free throws at night while they were in bed about to go to sleep. Go through the pre shot routine and then make 100 shots, all in their mind. While this was something I truly believed in, it took years for me to try and harness that power for my own protection. I guess I never put two and two together.

I am an old lady now and it took some time for me to learn the lessons I needed to stay sane in this world. My empathic personality has always been in need of solitude. As a child I was alone a lot and I enjoyed every minute of it. I had many acquaintances throughout the years but I was always on the periphery. Almost as if I was a little too afraid of being in the centre. But it was because it was too hard to fend off the energies that swirled around. Some people thrive on that but not me. I loved large outdoor parties when I was young. Because it was dark with no space confinements. My memories of those days are always feeling a part of things and having fun, yet it was always easy to escape. I had one boyfriend, Cam, who was always looking for me. He seemed to understand. When he would find me standing away from the crowds, observing, he would take my hand and lead me to his car. We would sit on the hood and talk. And talk and talk and talk. Until I felt better and then we would rejoin the party. House parties were harder. I remember once when I snuck upstairs and he found me laying on the couch in the living room in the dark. We went for a walk through the neighbourhood. And then rejoined the others. He had a sensitive nature and understood my need for escape.

I have to admit that marijuana played a big part in my life in dealing with the world. My husband was understanding. To a point. When we went to his family get togethers I was always anxious. He would stand with me by the car as I smoked some pot. It made things so much easier for me and I am grateful for that. Even parties with his small town friends always started the same way. A little toke before we went in. He was good at leaving with me to get some fresh air as I felt too much anxiety in enclosed spaces full of people. He was never a pot smoker. His people were drinkers. Family and friends. But he would chat with me when I went out for a break and a smoke. Interestingly enough, I never have that urge when I am with my own family. We get together and visit. They leave I go to bed. There is a peacefulness and a sense of trust with my own siblings. Well, most of them anyways. My children are a source of peace in many ways. I remember once I was having a bit of a cry session and afterwards my daughter asked me if I wanted her to smudge me. She gets it. She is an empath.

Solitude has always been the way I am able to release the toxicity of others and rejuvenate my own soul. I always call it cosmic debris. Negative energy. The icky bits that seem to cling to me after I am too close to those who feel toxic. I find that I can be alone for days on end and find peace. But I think it has become a pattern. And like anything, there comes a time when we can no longer get the same peace from the old practices. I meditate. Walk. Lift weights. Do yoga. All of these things help me. But just being alone at home, or the cabin or just in my garden, I feel as if the cosmos is somehow cleansing my soul. I emerge after some time feeling stronger and better able to meet the world. There is a time to be in the world and a time to retreat. I feel blessed to have that life where I can decide how much of my life I can lend to others. Because if we aren’t careful we can give too much of ourselves. To our own detriment.

I am currently in a period of extended solitude. I had an epiphany of sorts recently. There are a number of acquaintances in my life who turn to me in times of need. I am for some reason their go to person when they have problems. Some say I am unable to say no. That may be the case. I don’t know. But the last few months had too many people reaching out to me. In time it became just too much and as I sat with the issue, I realized these people only reached out when they needed me to help them with a problem. I was their fixer. I then thought about so many others in my life and how often they called when they needed me. After every encounter, when all was done, there was silence. They didn’t need me. Until the next time. These people steal my time and they prey on my friendship. Yet there are other people who I think of as energy thieves. They absorb you into their world and they suck the life out of you. Like a vampire. It isn’t physical favours they need, rather they dump their issues into your lap and leave you feeling emotionally drained. Yet they walk away uplifted. They tell everyone how wonderful you are. They love you so much. Because they feel good when they leave you. For me these people are more damaging than anyone else. They suck me dry. These are the ones who I need to escape from into solitude.

I lived across the street from two women who are very much this way. They steal my peace. One day years ago, they came over to have tea. Separately. After the second one left I sat and cried. I was drained. From tea. But they were fine. They aired their problems and shared and I was left emotionally exhausted. Luckily one moved and I have managed to limit my time with the other. Yet this can be insulting to some people. They need people and energy. They feed on it. I am fortunate that I have a cabin I can go to whenever I want. I can escape. The last time I was there I didn’t get dressed for four days. It was heaven. Pure bliss. I came home feeling healthy and rested. But why do I have to go through this? Well I am the one who allows this in my life. It is a push pull which I have perfected over the years. I push people away when they are too much but I still need people. But getting back to the epiphany I had… Do I need those people? The ones who only take. The three people who I spent hours and days and in one case, a month, helping, none have reached out since that time. No calls for coffee. No text asking how I am. The ones I spend so much time recuperating from. I realize, finally, in my old age, I am putting energy into the wrong people.

Today, someone I love very much, my youngest daughter, was having a moment. And I couldn’t help her. I held her as she poured out her story. I listened. The whole time my heart broke because my child was sad. I was angry that someone made her sad. But she didn’t need me to fix anything. She needed to tell someone she trusted. She needed her Mom. She needed the one thing I missed most when my Mom died. Someone to listen. My daughter will be fine. She will deal with her issue. She always has. Just laying it out there gives her some peace. And I came home without feeling a burden. I wasn’t depleted. Because she shared. She didn’t use me. She used my shoulder. Tomorrow she will call or text. And all will be good. There are people in my life who need me. They need the best version of me. I think the time has come to start being unavailable. To the energy thieves. Most importantly, I have come to realize that most people are often the biggest obstacle to their own happiness. They are often their own worst enemies, and their problems are often directly related to their own choices. I need to leave them to it.

So here I am in my 2 months of semi solitude. I still see people and do things. But I am selective. My grandbabies, my kids, some friends and family. I see them. The difference with this journey into solitude is that I am not excluding the world, just some of it. And I am able to feel at peace knowing I can just say no. As for the ghost that lives in my house, I can’t see her or feel her. But I am glad she is keeping me company. She never asks for anything. So she can stay.