The Long View: Two’s company, but we don’t want to crowd each other

I look forward to the quietness of my Saturday mornings. My husband brings our daughter to soccer so I have the morning to myself, and it’s glorious. I don’t do much of anything in the time. I might read my book, take a long shower, enjoy an uninterrupted cup of tea. But it’s the time on my own and the quietness that’s key.

Myself and my husband both work from home. We shared an office for years, and it was fine, if a little claustrophobic at times. Recently though, I’ve moved my office downstairs and this has definitely revived our coffee and lunch breaks. We have more to talk about – watercooler chat, I guess.

Being together all the time can catch up on you. It can get a bit Groundhog Day and, because you feel like you’re living the same day over and over again, you can lose track of stories you’ve told or important messages you need to pass on, to the point where you’re constantly telling the same story and forgetting to pass on critical information. (“I thought I told you that” is a common refrain in our house.)

There was a time, when we were going through all the fertility treatments, that we couldn’t handle being apart. We clung to each other (literally, in my case, grasping for his hugs which are like his superpower). Being with other people was difficult; you can only mask your feelings for so long.

Now that we’re in a happier place, we’re building back up our own social circles and prioritising time to ourselves. My husband enjoys the solitude of his cycles; it’s where he gets all his best ideas, he says. And I have my Saturday mornings and my morning walks, where I can be alone with my thoughts.

Spending time with our friends, separately, has also become more important. A good night out is good for the soul, and it’s great to come back home and tell each other all about it, the laughs and the gossip. It brings new material into our conversations, and it’s also like hitting a refresh button in your brain. You’ve changed things up, broken the Groundhog Day curse.

Later this year, we’re both heading off on separate weekends away with friends. I used to be anxious about doing this; my years of being so dependent on the physical and mental support of my husband meant I felt unmoored when I was without him. But I’m mentally stronger now, and I enjoy recapturing that carefree feeling of being out for the night, or away for the weekend.

For us, that time apart, short as it is, seems to bring us closer. I miss him when he’s gone, and catching that first glimpse of him when I pick him up from the bus station or airport makes me remember how I used to feel in the early days of our relationship – that nice, buzzy feeling. I’m pretty sure he feels the same.

Learn to make the most of time to yourself with our Introduction to Meditation, a remote live event with instructor Niamh Hurney, on 16 May. Register now to secure your spot.