Portrait taken by my amazing partner.
Being awake first in the morning is a wonderful feeling. I don’t mean because of that smug self-satisfaction that other people are missing the “best part of the day” while one is already up and about, but the quiet pleasure in the solitary early morning cup of tea, the knowledge that although the day has begun, there is as yet no obligation to do anything, so it is fine to lounge about, or to read, or indulge in any one of a number of selfish pleasures in the knowledge that, for the time being at least, they will annoy no-one else.
I enjoy watching it get light as the sun rises. In fine weather it is good to do so from a hilltop somewhere, but in this weather I prefer to sit in the quiet of my study with the comforting heartbeat of my old clock for company and a cup of tea, as I listen to the wind howl round the corners of our home. The sounds of the house slowly starting to wake up reach me in my eyrie: the noise of the boiler starting and the gurgling of the hot water in the radiators, the creak of a floorboard as the heating warms it, the protests of bed-springs from the next room as someone turns over in their sleep, disturbed by early morning dreams of who-knows-what, these noises which would normally go unnoticed at any other time of day are amplified in the pre-dawn hush, but are comforting rather than distracting.
I have been having trouble sleeping lately and when I do get to sleep I have tended to sleep late, so this morning’s early start is pleasurable for another reason - it is a small victory over insomnia. I have slept well, without the aid of sleeping tablets, and feel rested and content.
The coming day may hold a hundred small annoyances, or it may be full of happiness and fun, but that doesn’t concern me yet - those things are to come and at the moment I am in that peaceful interval between-times: the day has not properly begun, but the night is definitely over. Thanks to my early start, the day will find me ready to meet it, optimistic and glad, but for now I shall simply revel in the enjoyable solitude of the early-riser.
I keep telling myself that I will start adding to this blog again, then somehow other things seem to get in the way, or the time never seems right. Since the move to our new home, things have been easier as there is more space into which to escape some of the distractions, but nevertheless I continued to procrastinate.
I have been creating a small study for myself in our new home, which is furnished only with things I love, and which is a haven of peace from the hurly-burly of domestic life in a household containing three adult men with sometimes conflicting habits of living. Don’t misunderstand me, I love our life together here, and relish the presence of others the majority of the time, but to paraphrase Virginia Woolfe, I have longed for a room of my own in which to to anything I like, or nothing at all as the fancy takes me.
My room is small, but cozy, and unusual in that it has two floors, with a small stair-case connecting the main room with a smaller space in the roof with a window overlooking neighbouring gardens. Upstairs is mainly bare, with a few cushions and a radio which is always tuned to Radio 4, but the downstairs part of my room has my desk and chair, a small arm-chair for reading, a lamp and a table. It also houses my two chiming clocks which punctuate the hours with their chimes and keep me company with their companionable and steady ticking; so the scene is set for me to think, read and write, with no interruptions unless I choose to admit them, and at last I feel that I have made a space which is at least as good as any I could imagine.
I now have no excuses for failing to keep my journal up to date, add to my blog, catch up on my reading and so on. The distractions are still there, but on the other side of my door they appear more distant and so less demanding. Hopefully this will allow me to make more regular entries here, or perhaps not, but I can no longer use the excuse that I do not have the opportunity. If I fail to maintain this blog, I now have no-one to blame but myself.
As I have mentioned previously, my house is currently for sale. It has taken me a long time to bring myself to put it in the market, but on the whole I am glad I have.
Coming home last week to find a “for sale” board attached to the front of my house, however, brought up a lot of emotions for me.
Since I saw that board on my house, I have been oddly conflicted. On one hand I am glad to see the board there, but on the other hand it has reminded me of the last time such a sign was there, and everything that has happened since.
In this house I have had happy time and sad, and all of them have been flooding back into my mind over the last few days. Whilst living here I have shared my life with 7 cats, of whom 3 are still with me. I have had countless parties, for christmases, birthdays and just because it felt like time for a party, not to mention the monumental party for my civil partnership with my long term partner. I have also said goodbye to three good friends and two members of my immediate family while living here, all of whom are remembered fondly on a daily basis. My home has been my refuge during those times of loss, and is the place where I have found comfort through those bereavements, a place of safety in a turbulent world. In short, this wonderful old house has been my home.
Home is an important concept for everyone, a place where one can be comfortable and secure, a refuge if you will, but for an aspie home is especially important. Home is the constant to which one can return when the world gets too much, the place where everything is under control and everything is where one left it when one went out. Home is safety.
But I am facing the fact that home is also where the people one loves are. Home does not have to be perfect, it just needs to contain everything and everyone needed to make a happy life. At the moment I am separated from my partners, AJ and Mez (for those of you who are not aware I am in a polyamorous relationship) as they are living in another town due to work and university, and I live alone for most of the week. I have enjoyed having my own space, for the first time in my life, but I have now decided that enough is enough. The last two years living alone here have had their ups and downs, but on the whole I have been happy here still. But it is possible to have too much of a good thing, and finally I have reached the conclusion that solitude is not for me. I need someone to come home to every day who does not just say “meow” and who cares about whether my day has been good or bad and listens to what I have to say about it without wondering when I am going to shut up and make with the cat food. In short, I have realised that home is more that just a safe place, it is the place where one is loved and cared about.
I am ready to make a new home for myself, and despite the misgivings I have had about leaving the town I grew up in, and the house I have loved for the last 13 years, I now can’t wait to make a new home and a new life with my partners and my cats. Wish me well.
A lonely little bear out for a country walk…
Jake was a gift from my partner some years ago and has featured in a lot of my photographs since.
I have not posted on here for a long time, and after one has not done a thing for a while it is hard to get back to it, but here I am, trying again.
Since I last wrote anything on here I have put my house on the market with a view to moving to Stoke on Trent, a move I have spent the last two years contemplating but have not felt able to commit to until now.
For an aspie like me, moving is a very difficult thing to do, especially as I have lived in a house I love for the last 13 years. I have become rooted into my routine here, and my house has become like a second skin to me, or perhaps a shell, protecting me from the outside world. I have furnished it with belongings which are important to me, and know where everything is without thinking about it.
Anyone who knows about Aspergers will realise that to move home, especially when moving away from the town one was born in and has lived in ever since, is a seriously difficult thing to achieve. My partner now lives away from home due to attending university in Stoke on Trent, so I am here alone with the cats, and over the last couple of years I had begun to get quite used to it, but I confess that even while settling down to living alone and outwardly professing to enjoy my space, I have been increasingly lonely.
So, I have finally made the decision to move to be back with my long term partner. We have found a house where we feel we can make a home together, and now there is just the matter of getting my house here sold to finance the purchase of the new place - wish me luck!
Oscar thoughtful on Flickr.