Celebrating Time Alone:

Stories of Splendid Solitude
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- By Lionel Fisher

Cynthia Meier describes her second marriage, which ended when she was 32, as “four years of wedded bliss, one year of severe struggling.” And for three years after the divorce she “hung on like a pit bull,” says the 45-year-old operating room nurse, trying to retrieve the relationship with her physician ex-husband.

“I was desperate,” says Meier. “I felt I’d be nothing without him.”

Her first marriage to an “extremely liberal yuppie,” when both of them were 21, lasted half as long. The two men in her life, though poles apart in their professional and political orientations--the first, a left-wing social activist; the second, an ultraconservative cardiovascular surgeon--were predictably similar in what drew her to them, says Meier.

“I’ve always been attracted to high-powered men--strong, opinionated, extroverted, egocentric dynamos who stirred things up, brought excitement to my life, made me think, hey, that’s who I am as well.

“When I was married, I made each of my husband’s politics my own, as radically different as they were. I wound up giving my complete self to both of them, surrendering my entire individuality. I took up each one’s entire persona--lock, stöck, and barrel--and gladly, because I didn’t feel I had one of my own.”

Single and in therapy these past 13 years, Meier still has one major issue to resolve but isn’t certain she ever will. She has a great job, she says, along with the trust and respect of her peers, a strong relationship with her parents, close connection to her siblings, and numerous friends--but no ability to forge an emotional bond with a man. She’d like to, she makes it clear, but not at the cost of surrendering her identity once more.

“Living alone,” says Meier, “I’ve come to realize all those years spent with others were spent living an unauthentic life. It’s taken me a long time to recognize who I am and to admire and value that person. I’m not going to give her up now--not for anyone, not ever again--because she’s a wonderful, very real person worth hanging onto at all costs.”

Meier has made her home a place of comfort and refuge where she always feels safe and in total control. Everything in her lakeside apartment, she stresses--the furniture, fabrics, colors, artwork, accouterments and decor, all reflect her decorative tastes, her style, her artistic sensibilities.

“I gave them all away when I catered totally to someone else’s needs, someone else’s preferences, someone else’s desires--to the total exclusion of my own. I’m taking them back,” she says triumphantly. “They’re all for me now.”

She feels particularly “hugged and nurtured” in her bedroom, Meier says.

“When I moved into my new home after the divorce, I told myself I was going to do this right!” She bought an antique four-poster bed “the exact kind I’ve known I wanted since I was eight.”

She bought a new mattress and box springs, a state-of-the-art electric heating pad, a luxurious down comforter, a gaggle of down pillows, 200-count cotton sheets, an ideal night stand and a perfect reading lamp.

“When I was done,” Meier says, “I had a bedroom. Much more than a place to sleep, though, it’s a sanctuary in every sense of the word--a warm, comforting, serene place I’m always happy to go, where I’m perfectly content to be alone.

“In fact,” she adds, “I’m beginning to wonder whether any man will be able to make me as happy and content in that bed as I’ve learned to make myself.”

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This article is excerpted from Lionel Fisher's new book, "Celebrating Time Alone: Stories of Splendid Solitude" (Beyond Words Publishing, Spring 2001). Fisher also writes a self-syndicated column, "SINGLES SCENE: The Art of Being Alone." Send him your thoughts on magnificent aloneness at beachauthor@lycos.com