BEING MORE INTENTIONAL ABOUT VERY ORDINARY THINGS - TWO

This is the second in a series of periodic reflections on the "ordinary things" that many people do on a regular basis without much thought. During this pandemic, I am developing a need to "rage, rage" against hast and laziness and replace it with care and attention. My hope is to become personally more intentional about doing ordinary things with care and focused attention, while inspiring others to maybe do the same.

#2

"Living Alone"

 

In 2019, 35.7 million Americans lived alone. 28% of all US households. That was up from 13% of households in 1960 and 23% in 1980, according to the US Census Bureau. In 2020, probably 30% of all household are made up of individual people living alone. 

Of the 30% of the population living alone, there are some who hate it, some who have no choice and some of us who love it and would have it no other way. I love people, but I thrive on living alone. I may live alone, but I am never lonely. I have also come to know that the thing that makes you exceptional can also make you lonely. As one who thrives on living alone, I have some observations to share.  

The first observation is that those of us who live alone are often the object of pity. Pity can, of course, be a form of condescension. However, I also know from listening to people who are married that marriage can actually sometimes exacerbate loneliness. I am sure that some, especially those who hate living alone or who simply have no other choice about it, are so miserable that they deserve some pity. I am not one of them. As a diocesan priest (sometimes referred to a "secular priest"), our charism is not living in a religious community, but living alone. True,  in days past we may have lived in a house with other priests, but that was more circumstantial than intentional. Some probably even enjoyed it. I have always understood that diocesan priests are the "solitaries" of the clergy world. As a diocesan priest, my worst nightmare is being forced to live in a house full of priests. I have always been able to work with other priests, I am friends with some of them, but I don't want to live with them.  At age fifty, I even purchased an "in-home health care policy" to protect myself from having to go to a "priest retirement home." My choice in no way minimizes the value of what other priests have chosen. 

Just as some get their energy by being an "us," some of us get our energy from being a "me." Solitude can be unbearable without healthy self-love. Just as some get their energy by being attached to another and suffer when being alone, some of us get our energy by being alone and we do not suffer from the absence of a full-time other. We have learned that solitude, rather than being an affliction, can actually be a wellspring of creativity and imagination. 

As a public person, I have always enjoyed being with people, but I have also enjoyed being alone without the need to impress people, bargain with them about things like when and what to eat or not eat, what color car to buy or what color to paint the walls, where to go or not go or have to listen to their odd noises, both voluntary and involuntary. 

One of the best things about living alone and being single is the freedom to relate to many people at the same time, without anyone being jealous or suspicious or controlling. The biggest disadvantage of being single in a coupled world is that you are, most of the time, the odd-man out! The most irritating time is when someone has to "pull up a chair" to make room for you at a table of couples.  It seems that you inevitably end up being number three, five, seven, nine or eleven - always the "odd" number! 

Another of the good things about being single and living alone that I have learned are the possibilities for generosity that solitaries have that partnered people sometimes do not. Solitaries, unrestricted by marriage and family financial obligations, are much freer to share their time, talents and treasure with "the many." 

During this pandemic, I have noticed how many times people have talked about the awful prospect of "dying alone." They think the only good way to "go" is having people holding your hands and talking to you. I may regret saying this, but I could probably handle dying alone much better than most people because I have grown used to my own company and being in an ongoing dialogue with my Creator. As I see it, we all die alone anyway. I see no need for a lot of bedside commentary or drama. I want to be able to say my prayers, shut up and slowly "go to sleep." I want to slip away in silence and hopefully without pain.  I remember working at Saint Joseph Infirmary during college. When a member of an "Irish Traveller" family (mistakenly called "gypsies") was dying, a huge number of those family members would show up to comfort them as they died. There is much about the "Irish Traveller" culture to be admired, but for me personally, this is not one of them! 

If you are partnered and hate it, you have my pity! (I am praying especially for the victims of domestic violence that is skyrocketing during this pandemic. To be forced to live with an emotional and physical terrorist is to experience hell on earth.) If you live alone and hate it, you have my pity!  If you are partnered and thrive on it, I am happy for you! If you live alone and thrive on that, I can resonate! Whatever floats your boat! Whichever it is, however, during this pandemic I suggest that you try to be even more intentional about celebrating and enjoying your unique situation as best you can! Saint Francis de Sales says, "Be who you are and be that well!" Saint Paul  teaches us, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart...." (Colossians 3:23).