Don't be a hater

This morning we got up at a decent time so I could run my car in to my brother in law's shop for new tires.  On the drive up I noticed that, um, my car was sliding a little bit whenever I was rounding a corner and going over a rough patch (ha ha ha: going over a rough patch).
Hey, when you're doing the Hope Princeton - which is the route that within the last year or two they found the car of a woman who had "gone missing" decades before after driving off the highway and into the goddamn lake -  you kind of want to keep your car on the road.
Then I checked in to the almost-beach front suite where I will be staying until Sunday.  Then I drove Michael to the airport because some people have to work for a living while others have high level existential crises which can be played out in the most lavish and extravagant ways thanks to the incredibly generous nature of my parents.
SIDE RANT: don't be a hater.  There's been some backlash from various individuals in my life both directly and indirectly over me taking a year off.  I'm sorry you're not in my position.  If you want to really get upset about something, hate on Wall Street.  Come over to the North Shore and see the yachts that dock there that have fucking helicopter landing pads on them.  Take on the Canadian Senate and double dipping.  Don't get your panties in a twist because I've decided to take a year off and don't tell me that if the same opportunity was afforded to you that you wouldn't take it.  RANT OVER.
So yeah.  Today is kind of it.  I'm done the bike race and Michael is gone and I am on "vacation" alone which is a weird thing for me.  The last time I was "away" and alone was when I worked for Maersk and they sent me to Mississauga on business over a long weekend.  I booked myself on a wine/Niagara Falls tour by myself and, hilariously, ended up sitting across the table at lunch with a couple from White Rock.  Go figure.  That was a fun weekend because Michael missed me a lot and called me at midnight and "pretended" to have forgotten that it wasn't also 9pm in Ontario.  I think when I checked out of my hotel the long distance bill was like $30 or $40 because Google Voice hadn't been invented yet (interesting story about that to come).
Yeah, so the second time that I went away by myself when was I was fighting with my boyfriend at the time when I was in my early twenties.  I checked into this motel in Harrison (I was really creative back then) and I got changed and went to the beach and chilled out and then couldn't handle it and left that evening to go home to try to salvage things which, ultimately, couldn't be salvaged.
The point of this long winded and self indulgent post is that I have never really spent any time on my own.  This is on purpose because the concept of being alone with myself is one of the most terrifying concepts out there.  I don't know how to do it.
My mom said (and I remember this) that growing up in Dunbar as a toddler I would follow her from room to room and that I was incapable of entertaining myself.  My brother made long parades out of Matchbox cars when he was little (which I would promptly kick over), but I actually remember following my mom around without really thinking why I was doing it.
Certainly I didn't suffer from the self-doubt, self-loathing and paranoia that surrounds me now at age 4, but it sort of makes me wonder why I couldn't just play with my toys like a normal kid instead of following my mom from room to room.
So, at age 36 I have come to realize that I am (or heretofore was) a needy suck.
And if you could post your comments rather immediately to validate this and to extend some sort of human interaction?  I would really appreciate it.