I spent a week alone and this is what I learned.
My now husband (eek!) was away at a training in California this past week.
This is the most time we’ve spent apart in a long time.
We got married last month in Ireland, and the months prior were filled to the gills with planning, social engagements, celebrations, births, family gatherings, etc.
Immediately following our wedding, we got to spend a quiet week honeymooning together in Scotland, which was so sweet and binding for us.
The point is that we’ve hardly been apart this year, and as two people living in a quiet mountain town a good 50 minutes from the nearest city and a lot of our close friends, it’s really easy to become introverted.
With our homesteading lifestyle and our individual businesses (our 17 chickens, 2 ducks, beehives, and working dog), we are heavily reliant on each other’s emotional and physical support to keep the show running. I think this is normal for most married people.
But what I hadn’t realized is how codependent we had become.
Like you, I’ve heard the word “codependent” thrown around and never thought it applied to me.
“I have a complex internal world! I am busy with work, births, and the homestead! I’m definitely operating in a healthy, interdependent way!”
I won’t lie—when I said goodbye to my husband for the week, I felt anxious. The wave of tasks, chores, and responsibilities overwhelmed me. I immediately sat down and made an enormous, two-page list of everything I wanted to get done that week.
Clean and reorganize the fridge. Clear out the clutter in the bathroom cabinet. Floss every day. Go to yoga AND the gym. Create some enrichment sensory activities for the chickens (lol).
What I quickly realized was that I wasn’t anxious about my husband being gone; I was anxious because I didn’t know how to be by myself.
All the chores, lists, and activities were gateways out of having to sit with the discomfort of being alone. And that’s definitely how it felt the first day or so. Alone.
Just me, my dog-son, and our birds on our wide acre of land.
The house felt too quiet, the bed felt too big. I didn’t even really want to cook, so I dug out some leftovers and warmed them in the skillet.
The first couple of nights, I slept fitfully. I blamed the Pisces Full Moon eclipse, as is my prerogative. My appetite was scant, and I kept my client calendar full. I stayed up too late deep cleaning the kitchen, then stayed up even later reading my Kindle, seeking screen stimulation over feeling lonely.
When I did the dishes, I realized I always had the TV or a podcast on for company—another way of avoiding being alone.
It was becoming clear that I didn’t have my own patterns but had enmeshed myself with the patterns of our partnership. When I didn’t have my person around, I didn’t remember myself.
Luckily, this introspection happened very early in my week alone. I was super conscious of how my husband’s absence had rattled me, and I called on past versions of Morgan to come in and help.
The Morgans that traveled solo across Patagonia and made friends everywhere she went. The Morgans that joyfully attended music festivals alone, and relished a night in when all her college roommates were out of town. Like conjuring a spell, she came back to me like a bolt of moonlight.
I stopped using the word “alone,” and started to practice being with myself.
I washed dishes in silence and practiced my ujjayi breathing. I picked up a paperback book, *Circe*, because I wanted to touch the paper of pages instead of my Kindle screen.
Instead of turning on the TV while making dinner, I let the crackling firewood, the sizzling of oil and the chopping of onions be my background noise.
When I walked my dog, I really interacted with his spirit and worked on his obedience and being present with him. We became so much closer for it.
The ducks learned how to eat out of my hand (big trust!).
I planted flowers with my mom.
I chopped wood and built two fires in our cast iron stove.
I watched *Portrait of a Lady on Fire* and bawled (talk about the complex internal world of women!).
I attended a huge ceremony in Denver with my kalpulli, my chosen family.
I harvested all my lemon balm and half the apples from our tree.
I engaged in conscious self-pleasure and really took my time.
I became more aware of myself—my needs, my thoughts, the shape of me.
On Friday night, I even hosted a handful of my closest girlfriends to celebrate the Equinox, and it was a gathering dedicated to sharing myself and my home, not escaping loneliness.
As I sit here writing to you, it’s Monday morning. I pick up my husband from the airport tonight, and I have an apple cider roast slow cooking in the crockpot to welcome him home.
I am so excited to see him :)
I also know it will be a continued practice to stay in touch with my own shape. To remember the difference between true friendship with myself vs. always being stimulated or distracted as a way to avoid uncomfortable feelings.
I think enmeshment in long-term partnerships is more common than people like to talk about, and I am so grateful that I had this week to myself to practice honing my shape.
I’ll always remember this week because of the homemade apple cider I made from the apples from our tree.
I hope you make it for yourself this fall as an honor and altar to your own unique shape :)
Homemade Apple Cider
Ingredients:
3 naval oranges
8-10 full sized honey crisp apples
4 cinnamon sticks
6 whole cloves
1 tablespoon ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon ground cardamom
1 cup brown sugar or maple syrup
Directions:
Quarter the oranges and apples. Add the spices and sugar, and cover with water. Simmer on low for 4-6 hours until the color and consistency is dense and aromatic. Give everything a good mashing right before straining.
Store in the fridge up to a week or freeze to have on hand for the coming months :)
