I don’t want to come across as pessimistic, but I also don’t want to write false things. Writing seems to be the space in which I feel least like a burden when sharing my hardships and I’m only just now remembering how simple it was for me to pour myself into that space when I was a teenager.

The pessimistic comment comes from feeling sad. I have a lot going for me, and I almost feel like I don’t have the right to feel sad, but that’s so silly, why am I gatekeeping emotions from myself? That doesn’t even make sense. I’m coming off of a much-needed ten days off from work. I stayed in the city. Got to see some friends, watch a lot of shows and movies, barely wrote (oops), and spent a lot of time alone. On paper, this sounds like my dream. I’m grateful for the time I had not needing to hold any kind of space for work - I don’t remember the last time I did that and did nearly everything I wanted to do.

The being alone piece is what’s kicking up this sadness. I have friends and family I love dearly, but I couldn’t help but feel this heightened sense of being in my head in ways I haven’t been for a couple of years now.

I feel contradicted. I don’t want to be in a relationship, because I love who I am when I’m not in one. I don’t have anyone to defer to when I’m alone - no opinions to let wash over my own should we have different ones, even though I don’t necessarily intentionally think I’m doing these things. I so easily give up my autonomy even though it’s not asked of me. It’s like how I show I care. Like, “look, I’m willing to give everything up for you,” and that’s…so far beyond intense, it’s hard to not judge myself. I mean, I am judging myself. I’m crying as I write this, but it feels so relieving to do so. I’m okay, I promise.

I used to endure a lot of emotional abuse from my mom which eventually subsided into manipulation, but it set the foundation of an inappropriate understanding of what it looks like to love someone.

Having this awareness at this moment makes me feel annoyed at myself for not being able to maintain it in real-time all the time. I can be critical of myself, I’ve been told, but this seems to be something I haven’t made progress on. In being kinder to myself, I can say that it’s only been a little under a year since I have not dated at all. I don’t know why I hold these rigid expectations for myself.

I was in a relationship between June through August 2021. Mind you, my divorce wasn’t finalized until July of 2021. To give you even more dates…my one-year wedding anniversary was August 2020, the same month my ex-wife cheated. She moved out in September 2020, and I began sleeping with other people as early as November 2020. I literally did not know how to be alone.

This week, I felt that companionship kind of loneliness in a way I have not allowed myself to feel in a really long time. I ached a lot. It really didn’t help that I got my period this week, meaning before I even got it, I was already feeling like I could come out of my skin.

My chest hurts acknowledging how deeply I crave affection. I want my hair to be stroked while my head lays in your lap. I want to hear you talk about your day and only expect me to listen. I really love to listen. I want to sleep and feel the comfort of your arms around my waist, your chest pressed against my back. I want your legs intertwined with mine. I want to look at you, our foreheads together, under the covers, my hand cupping your face. I want to trace your jawline with my index finger. I want time to linger in the ways it knows how to when we’re together.

I could go on, but my heart is actually aching.

Until next time.