Feeling: Lonely

...And a bit vulnerable by sharing this.

It has been well over 5 years since I felt like I had someone I could fully and truly connect with. Someone who shared the same with me, both of us working in tandem to make sure the other felt that they were heard, felt, desired, wanted. Someone who would listen when I had a lot on my mind to get out. Someone who would let me do the same for them. 

I’ve gotten used to living alone, to being alone, and have always been self-sufficient, never requiring the encouragement of others in order to do something I set out to do, although any words of affirmation sent my way are accepted with absolute pleasure. That being said, it would be nice to “come home to someone” again. To have someone to prepare a meal for, share a bottle of wine with, stay up too late by a fire, watch the stars together.

Part of me is afraid that I have become so accustomed to being alone that I won’t be open to the alternative, of sharing life with someone else again. Doing so the first time became such a game, such a tool for manipulation, that I have developed a bit of a shell around myself and around my heart. I know that I am different with how I relate to and with other people...I know that I am guarding myself from possible hurt in the future. Other than the passing of time, I am not sure how to deal with this.

This all influences how I want to live my life in the very near future. It is why my apartment is so meh in my mind: it is a lonely place of work and sleep. There is no family here. There could be no family here. There is no feeling of compassion or passion. Meals are rushed, a necessity to live. Alcohol mostly consumed to feel sorry for myself (which I realize and usually dump the rest in the morning). Living here is simply surviving.

These feelings of wanting are why I am looking forward so much to the next place I live. It will have the space to have potential. Potential for connection, potential for a bit more meaning to life, potential for sharing it with someone else (in addition to Mozzie). It is why I want to build as much of my own as possible: I am seeking meaning. I am seeking more to life than superficial, more to life than quick, more to life than convenient. I want what I do, what I say, what I think, what I feel, what I make, what I am to matter...not just to me, but to someone else, too. 

(I also realize that where I live is not going to somehow magically fix this, or resolve it in reality or my mind. But, for me anyways, it is a part of the eventual “solution” and so that is why I seem to think about it so much. I understand, even if at a shallow level, that a lot of what I am processing in my head is stuff that should likely be processed with someone else, a therapist, if you will. The head game portion of being human is tough to grapple with alone).

This human part of wanting this connection with another human is, honestly, annoying, but it is something I can’t seem to shake at the moment. And so writing about it is how I’ll deal with it for now.