I often journal for my own personal benefit. I sit down with my laptop and ramble a stream of consciousness while I process through my thoughts and emotions with little coherence. I don’t originally intend for it to ever be made public, so I’m not composing it in a particularly literary form. However, sometimes I wonder if there are other people who share similar thoughts. In an effort to cultivate an environment of transparency and openness, I’ve decided to share this particular entry to publicly acknowledge my "not so pretty" side, and to also open the doors of communication to anyone else who may be able to relate.
So a fair warning: in addition to being somewhat incoherent and rambling, it’s also kind of a pity party that doesn’t end with a big call to action of encouragement and hope. Sorry. But let’s be honest; a lot of my daily contemplations don’t always end with optimism. Again: that’s the realness exposed from my personal journal entries... I hope you don't mind. And I hope you're able to follow the trail of thought. Welcome to the inside of my head. :)
If you experience something, but don’t have anyone to share
it with, is it still real?
The obvious answer is, of course, yes. But then why does it
feel so lonely to watch a sunset by myself? I’m compelled to share it with
someone. I want to take pictures and send them to my friends or post them
online. I want to share the experience with someone else. I want another person
to somehow validate the experience itself, as well as my existence within that
experience.
That doesn’t make sense. I know better. I know I’m a whole human
being all on my own. I want to rely on God, alone, to validate my self-worth. I
shouldn’t depend on another human to authenticate my thoughts, feelings, or
experiences as genuine.
I know it all in my head. But it still sucks to live my life
solo a lot of the time.
I miss it. I miss having a person to share my everyday with.
The mundane. The silly. The nobody-cares-but-you. The big and the little. I
miss giving and receiving continuous updates of days and feelings and life in
general. Things happen, now, and no one knows. Unless I decide to post it on
social media like the attention seeking, insecure person that I really am, but
don’t want to acknowledge. Or unless I randomly text a friend out of the blue.
But when it comes down to it, nobody cares. Nobody is interested. Nobody is
wondering how my day went or what I had for dinner. Nobody is curious of how I
spend my time or how various trivial situations are going.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that many people care about
me as a person. They care about my well being, health, and happiness. If I ever
volunteer a story to a person in my life, they’re generally interested in what
I have to say. But it’s just not the same. It’s not the same as a text in the
middle of the afternoon asking how my day is going. Or ending the night by
asking for a recap of all of the mundane details of my day. Or following up to
see how a meeting went or time with friends or even a basic lawn mow. It’s not necessarily that
people don’t care about these things; it’s more that there’s no
person in my life (besides my awesome mama) who even knows about the minutiae
of my daily grind. There’s no one so deeply involved in my every day that I can even share
those kinds of details with.
I miss it. I miss having a person who is genuinely
interested in my life. And even more, a person who is equally vested in that
life. A person who sincerely has something to gain or lose based on the outcome
of decisions and circumstances. And I miss being involved in someone else’s
world and being welcomed and invited to invest my attention and energy into
them.
I miss the "good mornings" and the "good nights."
It’s hard sometimes, and it’s oftentimes lonely. I don’t
want to be a burden. I don’t want to be an obnoxious friend or a needy person
in general, but I can’t deny how nice it would be to have a constant
companion in my life. And as much as I adore my dog, I’d prefer a companion who
has actual thoughts I can hear and literal words with which to discuss things,
not to mention hands to hold and arms to envelope me as I collapse into an open
and comfortable embrace.
I hesitate to say all this. I don’t want to appear desperate. I don’t want to pretend like I’m
not complete on my own. I know better. I know
I’m a whole person all by myself, and I don’t need any other person to complete
me in any way. I don’t want to come off as pitiful or perpetuate the false idea
that a person isn’t complete without a partner. I actually feel very strongly
about defending independence and individuality. I’ll preach about it on a rather high
horse to anyone who will listen to me. But today, on a boring Saturday of too
much Netflix and a mute sunset, I’m sad. I’m just sad.
Somehow it all feels so worthless.
I know that’s not true... I contradict every emotion I have
with logic and intellect. In my head, I know that life still has meaning and purpose even without
anyone around to witness it. But tonight, it just doesn’t feel that way.
What does that mean? Does that mean I have more to work on
in myself? Does that mean, even more, that I shouldn’t pursue any sort of
relationship, because I’m not yet content on my own? Or does that mean that
I’m finally starting to be ready to pursue one, because the longing is beginning
to steadily grow?
For a couple of weeks, I tasted it again. I liked this guy, and we spent quite a bit of time together and talked nonstop from morning's alarm to light's out. A true
relationship between us wasn't possible due to various complications of time and space beyond any control of our own, so it had to end sooner rather than
later. Which means our above-average friendship and extreme involvement in each
other’s daily lives could only last a fortnight, before we had to be wise about the
situation and consciously resist investing in something that could never truly
amount to anything substantial. Sometimes, being responsible is simply the worst.
But what it did do was remind me of how much I
miss it. And how great it really can be to share my constant life with someone.
And, boy, do I ever miss it. And wow, can it really be great.
Was it a good thing to have that quick experience of
emotional intimacy? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. It sure did feel great
while it lasted. But it also uncovered some truths that I was kind of happy to
leave hidden away. I had rather convinced myself that I was fine on my own and
didn’t ever need to share my life with another person again. I believed I didn’t miss
it or want it. But I was wrong. On both accounts.
So after only two weeks of having someone involved in the intricacies of my
world, here I am again trying to readjust to life alone. How did I get so
accustomed to a companion so quickly? It took no time at all to fit right back
into that wonderful dynamic. It was so nice and natural and comforting and fun.
It had taken me months to learn how to be on my own, and only a couple quick
days of constant texting to relish in the companionship again. It makes me so nervous.
And now here I am. Watching the sunset alone and not sending a photo to anyone.
So did the sunset still happen?
Of course it did. Obviously. But why does it feel so much
cheaper, somehow, because nobody else experienced it with me. That doesn’t even
make sense. Ugh.
