ESME Resource Guide Susan Lemere explores loneliness
Instructions for Sleeping Alone
I.
Marry young.
Choose someone benign,
as if nonthreatening
means the same as
compatible,
and overlook his disdain
for the novels
and poems you love.
After the baby,
work opposite shifts,
which minimizes
the need for childcare,
along with
communication.
Find yourself bickering
about ridiculous subjects,
like whether passion matters
or even exists,
and whose fault it is
that you moved to Chicago.
File divorce papers
with the briefest
and most naive optimism
ever.
II.
Attach like a tick
to the most not-your-ex-husband
man you can find,
drifting into cohabitation
in the bachelor pad
which shows no signs
of you.
Find out you are pregnant.
Ignore nagging concerns
about his drinking,
his temper,
his spending sprees.
Let his intensifying rages
crash over you and then
dissolve, like waves.
Flee when the danger
is undeniable,
clutching your restraining order
as if a piece of paper
can keep you safe.
Zombie-walk through court hearings
again
and again
and again,
in the general direction
of free.
III.
Try not to notice
that free can feel lonely,
or that you’re thinking
more often about that old
high school sweetheart
who just friended you
on Facebook.
So what if he’s
a thousand and twelve
miles away,
in a long-term relationship,
and in failing health?
Discover unhappily
that wishful thinking
combined with insomnia
does not make
a delicious cocktail.
IV.
Just when you’re convinced
single mommies don’t date,
meet someone
at a work conference.
Discover too quickly
about liking the same TV series
and your shared interest in skiing.
Jump to compatibility conclusions
and then into a hotel bed,
falling quickly, too quickly—
at this age,
shouldn’t you know better?
Afterwards, be a contortionist,
thinking that if you can just
twist yourself up enough,
there has to be some way
this can work.
Feel the futility
like the sound
of every receding footstep
down a never-ending hall.
V.
Be woken from a sound sleep
by a kick in the head
from your four-year-old,
who has managed
yet again
to maneuver her way
upside down
in the Mom-bed you keep
trying to reclaim.
Review nighttime rules
and listen to
her indignant protests
about monsters,
weird noises,
twin-size sheets that won’t
stay put,
the unfairness of you
having the bigger
and comfier bed.
Wipe her tears
with your fingertips,
but escort her back
to her room, anyway.
Then, stare at your ceiling,
knowing she’ll be
back again soon,
and that this time,
in your exhaustion,
you’ll let her stay.
It’s the middle of the night.
Both of you
are still learning.
Photo Credit: Shutterstock.com
Susan Lemere is a Solo Mom of two, as well as a therapist, a writer, and an artist coach.
Please feel free to contact us with any comments or questions.