Loving Him Without Losing You (23 page)

According to Joanne Wieland-Burston in her book
Contemporary Solitude,
what Cameron was unconsciously practicing was the custom of incubation, which is practiced by so-called primitive peoples in many parts of the world. This is a meaningful ritual for adolescents as well as for people in other dif- ficult life phases. During incubation, a bird sits on eggs to hatch them through the warmth of the body. This kind of withdrawal is needed for concentrating one’s energies on an important stage of development.

Of the many tribal rites for puberty in “primitive” cultures, all involve some kind of seclusion. Young boys are subjected to intense experiences, first being taken out of the family, away from their mothers, to go through

masculinity rites with a new social group—their masculine peers. They emerge as adult members of the community, but only after having gone through a trial of sorts in which a ritual death or dismemberment has been acted out. They must die in their old roles in order to emerge prepared for their new ones. Girls’ puberty rites offer even more impressive images of seclusion, for the girls are often placed alone in huts, where their feet are not even allowed to touch the ground. These rites institutionalize the need to be alone, which Donald W. Winnicott, a renowned pediatrician turned psychoanalyst, speaks of as being all-important in puberty.

By practicing solitude, adolescents turn inward, concentrating all their life energies on the inner developmental processes. As a Disappearing Woman, you need to do the same thing, particularly if you were unable to do so when you were an adolescent or if you are going through midlife.

If you sensed too much disapproval or even the threat of rejection or aban- donment from your parents when you attempted to isolate and/or separate yourself as a child or an adolescent, you likely gave up on your efforts and instead remained overly connected to your parents. The fear of losing your parents’ love or the security of your environment became a definite impedi- ment to your development, since it also prevented you from daring to risk becoming yourself and to speak, dress, and act differently from what was expected of you.

E
X E R C I S E
:
Start with Fifteen Minutes a Day

To experience solitude you do not need to seclude yourself in a remote area or lock yourself up in your home for days or weeks at a time. You can begin by spending just fifteen minutes a day alone, without the dis- tractions of the telephone, the Internet, television, or the radio, and by following these simple suggestions:

• Unplug the phone and go into a quiet part of the house where you won’t be interrupted. If there are others in the house, ask them not to disturb you, or put a “Do not disturb” sign on your door.
  

• Sit quietly or lie down and take some deep breaths.
  

• Let your mind wander but try not to spend your time obsessing about other people. Instead, concentrate only on yourself—your feelings, your awarenesses, your thoughts, and your body.
  

  

  In her book
  Journal of a Solitude,
  the poet May Sarton wrote about how difficult it is to put the needs of others aside:
  

  It may be outwardly silent here but in the back of my mind is a clamor of human voices, too many needs, hopes, fears. I hardly ever sit still without being haunted by the “undone” and the “unsent.” I often feel exhausted, but it is not my work that tires (work is a rest); it is the effort of pushing away the lives and needs of others before I can come to the work with any freshness and zest.
  

  What to Expect
  

  It can be extremely difficult to focus this much attention on yourself and your feelings. Most people have a very hard time spending even a few minutes focusing in this way. You may become nervous and agitated, and you may find all kinds of ways to distract yourself from yourself.
  

  May Sarton writes about the fear that emerged as she once again embarked on her solitary journey:
  

  The ambience here is order and beauty. This is what frightens me when I am first alone again. I feel inadequate. I have made an open place, a place for meditation. What if I cannot find myself inside it?
  

  Now I hope to break through into the rough, rocky depths, to the matrix itself. There is violence there and anger never resolved. . . . My need to be alone is balanced against my fear of what will happen when suddenly I enter the huge empty silence if I cannot find support there.
  

  Of course, one of the major benefits of solitude—that there is nothing to cushion you against attacks from within—can also be one of the greatest drawbacks. As May Sarton explained it:
  

  . . . [T]he storm, painful as it is, might have had some truth in it. So sometimes one has simply to endure a period of depression for what it may hold of illumination if one can live through it, attentive to what it exposes or demands.
  

  Your time of solitude may at first bring you only anxiety, fear, and sad- ness. Some women find that as soon as they spend even a few minutes alone they are overwhelmed with a great sadness and that they spend their time of solitude in tears. If this happens to you, don’t be afraid, and don’t let this discourage you. Although it can be painful to cry all the tears you’ve been storing up for years, it can be liberating and healing as well. This is particu- larly true for those of you who had traumatic or painful childhoods and who now need to mourn your losses, disappointments, and woundings.
  

  Others become so anxious, they can’t keep still. Instead they spend their time alone pacing up and down the floor, trying to calm themselves long enough to connect with what they are actually feeling. This is usually caused by the realization that one is thrown back onto oneself, with no one else to rely on—the moment when one is faced with one’s aloneness in the world.
  

  Be prepared for anything—tears, intense anxiety, fear, rage. Don’t be sur- prised if your mind races a mile a minute and you are unable to get in touch with anything at first. Just be patient with yourself and keep trying. Soon your efforts will be rewarded.
  

  Only by facing your fear of aloneness once and for all, only by con- fronting your inner pain can you achieve contemplation instead of boredom, wisdom instead of despair, serenity instead of conflict.
  

  A Little Solitude Can Go a Long Way
  

  Don’t be critical of yourself if you can’t spend much time alone at first. If you stick with it and continue for just a few minutes at a time, you’ll gradually be able to work your way up to an hour or more.
  

  I began by consolidating my workweek to four days, giving me three days off instead of two. This enabled me to spend one entire day with myself, since my partner at the time worked five days a week.
  

  I was so burned out that at first I just lay on the couch and read or watched television during the day. But I also did something else. I cried. I cried over sad movies. I cried over the news. I even cried over commercials.
  

  I was so disconnected from myself that I didn’t even know what I was cry- ing about. On the surface I had a good life. A good relationship with some- one who was my equal. A successful practice doing work I was passionate about, work that felt satisfying and fulfilling.
  

  Not knowing what my tears were about was frustrating and confusing. I clearly didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did.
  

  Then I decided I needed even more time alone. I drove up the coast of California and rented a little house to stay in for the weekend. I went to the store and bought all the groceries I’d need, unpacked, and set out on a walk. I was not going to let anything get in my way of facing myself and discover- ing what was going on with me.
  

  A Place of Mysteries and Answers
  

  During the previous year I had begun to take long walks. I had originally done it for exercise, but I discovered that walking became a moving meditation for me, a time to clear my head and connect with my emotions and my spirit.
  

  As anticipated, my walk along the cliffs of the ocean began to calm me down. As I took in the fresh sea air and felt the ocean spray against my face, my mind began to clear of all the superfluous chatter and minutiae of my daily life. Soon all I was aware of were the intense deep colors of the ocean, the sea- gulls flying overhead, and the pounding of my own heartbeat. In those moments, my fear of what I was to face subsided, and I knew I had the courage to confront whatever came up.
  

  I went back to my little house and began to write in the journal I had bought for my trip. I wrote for hours without stopping and without con- sciously thinking. My hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it glided across the paper. When I finally stopped writing I was exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. I knew I’d connected with myself in a way that I hadn’t done for years, perhaps ever. I had written down my deepest, darkest feelings. I had written without censoring myself, without fear of what my words would mean or what the confessions of my soul would sound like to others.
  

  Through my writing I discovered the truths I’d suppressed and denied by staying busy, by seldom being alone, by focusing my attention on the needs of others. I discovered truths about myself that I needed to face if I was going to continue growing. Truths about how much like my emotionally abusive mother I had become. Truths about how much more work I still needed to do to clear up issues from my childhood. And equally painful, I discovered that after years of therapy I was still making the same mistakes in my relation- ships. Even though I was in the most equal relationship I’d ever had, I had still lost myself in it. I was still putting my own needs aside to please my partner. I was still pretending that I was much more easygoing than I really was. And I was still putting up with unacceptable behavior to keep my relationship intact.
  

  The next morning, even though I was exhausted from the hours and hours of writing, and the hours and hours of crying that came afterward, I forced myself to get up and go for another walk. I walked slower this time, since my body ached from the effects of my emotional outpouring. Instead of going down to the ocean, I walked deeper into the woods. It was quieter and darker there, a place that seemed to hold both mysteries and answers.
  

  There, among the dark shadows of the pine trees, I heard a voice inside my head, a voice I hadn’t heard for a long time. It was my inner voice telling me what I needed to do next, what path I needed to take.
  

  That weekend of solitude set the course for my life for the next several years. My inner voice told me I needed to end my relationship. It told me I needed to move away from Los Angeles and surround myself with the
  

  healing power of nature. And it told me that I needed a break from helping others in order to devote much more time to my own healing.
  

  By giving myself the gift of solitude I have been rewarded with a treas- ure chest of self-knowledge. By following my inner voice I changed my entire life—for the better. Today I am doing the things I truly want to do, not only the things I think I
  should
  be doing. I have learned who I truly am and have grown to love myself for who I am instead of constantly trying to be someone I’m not.
  

  For several years I lived in the woods, surrounded by those beautiful pines, immersed in the shadows. I dug deep into the rich soil and found great treasures buried there. Like many others, I found that being alone with nature was the most healing, enlightening, and productive time I had ever spent.
  

  Away from the distractions of their household, away from other people, many women are free to connect with themselves and with nature in a pro- found way. Being alone with nature can help you discover your own true nature, achieve a different perspective on your problems, and come away with a deeper appreciation for the things that are truly important.
  

  My time of solitude helped prepare me for an intimate relationship based on a desire for true sharing. I no longer felt I would lose myself in a rela- tionship with a man and was ready for an intimate relationship based not on need but on desire.
  

  The Power of Journaling
  

  As an aid to self-discovery I suggest that you, too, start a journal if you haven’t already done so. Your journal can act as a silent companion that lis- tens without judgment and reflects back to you aspects of yourself you are unaware of. This is vital for those Disappearing Women who when growing up had a parental figure constantly judging, criticizing, or demanding some- thing from them.
  

  As you begin to put your thoughts and feelings down on paper you will find that you feel less alone in your solitude, that you are becoming your own loving companion.
  

  Writing in your journal will help you stay focused and provide you with an outlet for self-expression. In it you can record your feelings and your innermost thoughts and dreams, discovering more about yourself than you ever imagined possible. You will discover thoughts and feelings long buried, solutions and alternatives to problem situations, new ways of looking at life- long issues, and most important—new ways of looking at yourself.
  

  Alice Koller spent three months alone in the middle of winter on the
  

  island of Nantucket in order to find herself and to face all that she had fled from throughout her thirty-seven years. This is how she described the purpose and method of her inner journey in her book
  An Unknown Woman: A Jour- ney of Self-Discovery:
  

  I’m here to understand myself, deliberately to turn myself open to my own view. I know, as I sit here, what I must have known for many years, that I can recognize what’s true about myself when I see it. It’s whatever I find myself refusing to admit, whatever I say no to very fast. That blan- ket admission right at the start may save me a lot of time. May save me, period. I’m using that “no” to protect myself from something. What? I’ll find out. I’ll write down everything I can remember, so that I can see the full extent of it, pick out some patterns in what I’ve been denying for so long.
  

  So, that’s first: to get it all written, no matter how ugly.
  

  You may want to structure your journal writing in a similar way. Writing down the story of your life, especially if you allow yourself to reexperience your emotions all along the way, can be very rewarding and enlightening. It can help you recognize the origins of your problems and the patterns in your life. Your memories, when examined in the light of your current awareness, can reveal a pattern discernible only when your life is considered as a whole.
  

  E
  X E R C I S E
  :
  Your Life in Review
  

  The following exercise is an invaluable tool to get you started examin- ing your life. The information you gather can help you discover impor- tant patterns and can be used for further exploration of the self, such as giving you ideas for journal and autobiographical writings, poems, short stories, drawings, and paintings.
  

  Set up a space for yourself where you will not be disturbed. I rec- ommend lying down in a darkened room, but you may also choose to sit up. Put paper and a pen where you can easily reach them. Please read the following instructions through completely before beginning. Once you have them clear in your mind, you can begin the exercise.
  

  1. Take some deep breaths and clear your mind of all thoughts. Think of your life as if it were a movie. Imagine that you have a magic button you can push that will “rewind” your life, much like you can do with
     

     a video player. Keep going back until you have reached your very first memory. Try to recall, as vividly as possible, the feelings associated with this memory.
     

     Now go forward and remember another significant scene from your life. Continue playing your movie (your life) in your mind, pick- ing out the most significant scenes and recalling the emotions you felt at the time.
     

  2. Open your eyes, go back over your memories, and choose moments in time when you experienced an intense emotion or those moments where time stood still, those moments that stand out from all the rest. Write these memories down.
     

     Don’t just write about major events in your life. When you choose a scene, there should be a significant emotional charge to it. Don’t take too much time thinking; just write as events come to your mind, letting your life flash before you. Breathe deeply. You might be sur- prised by the events you have chosen and the ones you have skipped over.
     

  3. Now go over your writing and put a star beside those memories that really stand out, those that still hold an emotional charge (i.e., those that make your stomach flip-flop, that still bring back intense feelings).
     

  4. Working with just the starred items, write about these incidents and why they were so significant, powerful, and meaningful to you. Take note of any patterns, themes, cycles, or lessons revealed there and write about them in your journal.
     

  5. Using what you have written, see if you can condense or character- ize each of these significant experiences down to only a few words. Examples: loneliness, fear, hope, friendship.