Me vs. Vulnerability

Another reflection today, it seems. This one, more vulnerable as I am sitting quietly alone in a room as I write it, much more attuned to my own feelings. Not sure if I’ll stay on topic, but whatever, at least it’ll be from the heart.

If I’m entirely honest right now, I’m pretty sad. I can’t really tap into it, it’s like a far-away feeling that comes back every so often. It’s weird because the past few months have been the best few months I’ve had in my life in a very long time, and I still feel good, but I also don’t. Even with all of the words I know, I don’t know how to explain this one. Maybe my mom was right and I have depression. Maybe I’m still just heartbroken. Maybe it’s just being human. I’m really not sure.

As all things do, I know this will pass, but for whatever reason, I felt called to share this and not just write it down in my journal. My friendships feel the best that they have in a very long time, and I feel really good about them, much less dependent and needy, much less caught up in my own expectations to enjoy the company of those I love. I guess I’m just realizing how little I actually share about myself now with other people. Yes, I’ll smile and talk about the funny travelling experiences I have had, or I’ll briefly make a remark about something they say that is relatable. But getting into my deepest feelings?

It seems that I have learned to keep these almost entirely to myself. I have learned how to best leave space for the people I love, how to listen to them, how to ask them better questions, but to quickly divert the conversation away from myself. A buildup of often feeling judged and ignored has seemed to leave me quite entirely alone with all the truest thoughts and feelings that I go through. When it comes to other people, I often find myself between two simple options: feel like a burden or feel alone. Me being me, I’ll choose feeling alone every time.

I have learned how to meet my own needs, I know how to make myself feel safe, warm, and cared for. And on the emotional end, I know how to express my feelings through the writing I do. Still, there is nothing that compares to having someone who you know wants to hear you out. I hope for everyone I meet, I am this person. Maybe I’m not, and I overestimate my own efforts. I don’t know.

I guess right now all I know is that I really miss someone and I’d really like to talk about it, but I have learned over time that it does me no real good. So instead, I’ll miss them double for the fact that I miss them and for the fact that they always wanted to listen to me. I’m not sure that humans need much else than just to be seen, known, understood, and loved for it. I guess that’s a lot to ask. Heartbreak is weird. Grief is hard. I don’t know why it never really ends. Though if I were given the option to let it all go, would I even take it? No. I grieve because I love. I grieve because I love.

I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately, all different types. It’s weird because although it started as a form of emotional expression even that turned into some sort of productivity-based approach as opposed to actually feeling everything. I’m very scared to feel everything, I think when it comes to my own truest feelings, that is the only time I am truly a coward. I was not always like this. I used to feel it all, really deeply, all the time. But I was in a really bad place for quite a few years, and now that I have made it out at least to some extent, I am really, truly terrified to ever go back.

Sometimes, though, sometimes I wish I felt safe enough to once again feel it all. To once again just sit and cry for hours on end. It’s funny, I write this and think, oh how embarrassing, how vulnerable of me to share this stuff that everyone will judge me for. Me, who preaches confidence, vulnerability, and sharing. Whatever, people are judged for all sorts of things, at least I’ll be judged for being entirely, completely true to me.

Sometimes I feel really broken for not being able to get over my heartbreak in the way that others seem to think I should. What a harsh truth to admit. As someone who has grown up always having to be strong, it is so human of me to actually be weak when it comes to love. I know there is no timeline for grief, but what if there is? What if it is simply me who is behind? What if it is my own fault that I can’t get over it? What if it is my own fault for not actually wanting to be over it? There’s the root, it seems.

Although I have so many explanations for why I am the way I am and all of the things I feel, the truth is I am still in love, and good God, I do not want to let go. No matter how much I try to convince myself, no matter how much I try to make myself see the other side. Deep, deep down, I have never actually ever wanted to move on. Deep, deep down, I am still completely in love, whether or not I’d like to admit it.

There’s no toilet paper at the cheap hotel/motel/hostel place I am at, and instead of conserving the last few tissues I have, I am sitting here crying and typing words into a computer. How silly of me. Is this what being human is? Crying and then seeing the absurdities in it. Maybe, maybe not.

Every time I write, now part of me feels like I have to be some motivational speaker, like everything must always have a silver lining. And sometimes everything does have one, sometimes I wake up and life is simply all things good, other times I walk into apartments that look like yours and all I can do is sit and stare at the couch for 30 minutes. I wish grief and heartbreak weren’t made by everyone to feel so embarrassing. It’d be nice to really just talk about it, as many times as I need. Every time I think I’m over it, I find it buried in a corner of my chest that I did not even know existed.

Love is so strange. How it persists, how it changes, but how it always really under it all stays the same. I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love again, not with another person. I know, I’m not allowed to say this because I’m so young and everyone tells me that eventually I will, but I don’t want to. There is a certain level of softness that I only feel for one human being, a type of softness that was entirely natural and based in tender, pure love. I don’t think this is replicable, and frankly, I do not want anything else. Those who understand simply do, those who don’t, I truly cannot explain it to, though I have readily tried.

I still listen to our songs sometimes, I guess that’s my own fault. Whatever. Here’s to missing you from across the globe, regardless of whether or not you miss me.