Up Today, Down Tomorrow, Moods are Changeable Beasts
It’s okay to express both the joy and the pain of being alone
Living alone has its ups and downs, especially for those who did not choose to be alone. In my recent posts, I let out my whiny side. Easter and the anniversary of my husband’s death got to me. To my great relief, you shared your own down days and assured me I was not alone.
I was afraid readers would say, “Enough whining. I’m unsubscribing.”
Will you stay if I share a selfie that I took on Sunday night when I still had my makeup and earrings on, and there was no one to say, “Hey, what are you doing?”
Many of us feel we need to present a confident, positive image to the world. Yes, I’m alone, but I like it. I’m just fine. Sometimes that’s true. But other times, we hate it. I don’t want to be alone. It isn’t fair. The world doesn’t understand what it’s like. I’m all by myself, and nobody cares.
Right?
Sometimes we would rather be alone. One friend who spent Easter working in her garden said, “I hate people. People suck.”
Well, yeah, sometimes they do. And sometimes they’re wonderful.
It’s up and down. If a person is up all the time, we wonder about their sanity. If they’re always down, we suspect they’re depressed. If we’re experiencing frequent extreme mood swings, we might worry about bipolar disorder. If you’re concerned, talk to your doctor just to be sure it isn’t caused by a medical problem. But know that a certain amount of fluctuation is normal and part of living alone.
I have been yo-yoing a lot lately. I write a poem in the sun, and I feel triumphant. I drop a hot plate of marionberry* pie on the floor, making a mess and breaking one of my favorite antique dishes, and I want to hide in my bed forever. Instead, I get myself another piece of pie and eat it cold.
I receive my 21st writing rejection of the year (!) and think, I quit, I’m done, what’s the point. But one acceptance or kind review can make me love my work again.
Exercise helps me a lot. A strenuous hike yesterday brought me back to reality. Writing, art, music, or dancing can help you get the feelings out in a constructive way. Or calling a friend if you feel up to it. Try not to post your moods on social media. Virtual friends might jump in with virtual hugs, but you’ll be embarrassed later. I’ve done it.
This week, Life Without Children Substack writer Ali Hall interviewed Lydia Huq, author of a story titled, “The Childless Woman Who Soared.” How she feels about not having children changes from day to day, Huq said. People expect her to be one way all the time, but that’s just not the way it works. Her feelings are fluid.
It’s the same with living alone. Yesterday, I hated it. Today, I don’t mind. Tomorrow, I might rave about how much I love it. There are multiple ways of looking at everything. You don’t like to eat alone, but you hate having to worry about someone else’s food preferences. You like taking off in the car by yourself, but you’re in a fix when you need a ride to the hospital for a medical procedure. It’s up and down, good and bad.
Nobody feels one way all the time. That confuses people who assume we’re lonely or happy or self-sufficient. They’re surprised when it turns out we’re not, at least not today.
Our changing moods can also cause us to jump into rash decisions, especially when we don’t have other people to say, “Whoa, slow down.”
Yesterday I was ready to quit the whole writing business, retire, and move into an old folk’s home where I would do whatever old folks do.
I’m still struggling, but today I’m back at my desk, taking one thing at a time. I’m trying not to worry about the hundred other things calling for my attention or the smear of marionberry that might still be on the cabinet door.
The freedom of living alone can be immense and wonderful. The possibilities are limited only by our imaginations, our health, and our money. We can go out and get involved with others, or we can stay home and dig in to our passions.
Some days, you will say, “I love my life.” Other days, the responsibility of organizing every moment yourself feels like too much, and you’ll say, “This f-ing sucks.” Most days, you’ll say, “Parts of being alone are hard, but other parts are pretty good.”
That’s the reality. All the feelings are valid. It’s okay to say so.
People who have never lived alone need to hear what it’s like and understand that you might need a little company now and then—and that on other days, you’d rather be alone.
I welcome your comments. I’m learning so much from all of you.
*Marionberries are a variety of blackberry that we enjoy here in Oregon
Further reading
Are My Mood Swings Normal? Am I Bipolar or Borderline Personality? https://www.webmd.com/bipolar-disorder/are-my-mood-swings-normal
How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available now at your favorite bookseller. The Kindle price has just been reduced! Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.
Nights are the worst for me. All the bad things that have happened, or that I worry will happen, start to circle. So many times I tell myself that it will be better in the morning. It usually is. I like your advice to get out, exercise, call a friend if you feel up to it, etc.
We all just have to keep plugging along.
What you write resonates so much. It's best to take it one day at a time. Beginner's mind as they say in Buddhism. Every day is a new start and when it's over we draw a line under it. It also helps not to take our lives personally, as a Buddhist abbot advised.