It’s tricky between my mum and me. She is the exact opposite to me in that she gets lonely and hates being on her own. I never feel lonely and I love being on my own. Whilst I sit here incredibly grateful for a blissful childhood growing up, with amazing Christmas times, I see life now as “okay you’ve done your bit mum, thanks, bye”. Of course that sounds incredibly cold but it’s obviously much more complex than that, but it is still it in a nutshell.
I think it’s an advantage too especially in constant lockdowns, to be totally self sufficient. My earliest memories anyway are of feeling like I’d be bothering any of my friends at the time if I phoned them up and asked if they wanted to come out and play. I rarely ever did. It ended up with me being entirely, 100% comfortable by myself. No “oh but”. I mean it. And it’s nothing I should feel ashamed of, or strange about.
Far too late for mum to ever gain this sense and she doesn’t want to anyway. She just hates with all her being, the fact that she can’t just go and see so and so, or have them come on over. There’s nothing much that I can ever do about that. I can’t feel all guilty when I don’t understand what I have to feel guilty for.
