There’s something I have been avoiding writing about, and talking about, for the last little while. With the exception of a few conversations with a small number of people, I’ve been been fairly mum on the matter. It’s not a big deal. There are other more intense things going on in my world that I’m perfectly at ease talking about. Yet this thing, this truth, I have found rather hard to give words to.
Then today I read my dear friend M’s incredibly honest, inspiring post. And I thought about how blessed I am to have someone as brave as she is as a friend. And I realized that as hard as honesty can be, keeping the tough stuff to ourselves doesn’t necessarily do anyone much good either.
So here goes.
What’s wrong with me is this:
Not all the time.
Not in a sad, crazy old lady with 17 cats that never leaves her house kindof a way.
At certain moments.
Like when I have to face the stillness that comes after people I’ve had stay with me for the weekend leave.
Or when I step back into my empty apartment after a weekend in T.O. with my family and it is so . . . quiet.
Or a couple of weeks back. When I was sick. And in incredible pain. And all I wanted was someone to sit by me and stroke my hair and tell me everything would be alright. And instead I had to make due with my Mom talking to me on the phone. Listening to me try to hold back tears as she told me to call a Telehealth nurse (an awesome service, btw, for any Ontario readers who’ve never made use of it).
I have been living in my new place for six months now. By and large it’s been swell. I am a pretty social person and so I tend to get out quite a bit. When I am on my own, as someone that actually enjoys quite a lot of me time, I often revel in the luxury that has been living alone for the first time in my life. Fact that I have some some great friends and family, and that some of them are those special kindof people that go out of their way to check in on me fairly regularly to see how I’m doing with solo has also helped.
But as good as I am with me and my life right now, it is not what I want forever. Cause it turns out, I’m just not wired for loneliness.
What do I want? Well, that’s some honestly I’m still working my way through.