Thursday, August 16, 2012

The whole point of this blog thing was to be real and honest - and to hopefully replace my Facebook with this.

 But I'm finding it really hard to be honest about how lonely I've felt over the last few months. It's hard to share because 
A) I'm used to retreating and secluding myself when I feel sad in any way.

B) I can't share anything about it without sounding pitiful or childish

C) I can't even take my own emotions seriously anymore because of these damned hormones. I don't want to put my feelings out there only to realize upon further contemplation that I was out of line or being dramatic. 
D) If I were to put myself out there and people were to respond with being more intentionally friendly or extend more invitations to hang out or something, I would feel like a burden who was pitied. 

But I can't shake this heaviness and I just can't quite keep my head above it. I can't ignore the voice telling me something is wrong with me - making me incapable of lasting relationships of any kind. I wrote a few weeks ago some thoughts about it, hoping to spark a change in my state of mind/heart/whatever.

"After sinking into an isolating depression about it, a realization that drifted into a few different discussions struck me. Friendships, and relationships in general, do not exist simply as an adult. As a child, having a few interests in common were enough to establish a contract of friendship. 
This friendship was kept alive by simple, daily routines: 
1)eating lunch together
2) playing every day at recess
3)being invited to birthday parties
4) all of the above
A bonus was when you got to go to their house to play on the weekend. 

What dawned on me was that I was still waiting for friendships to function this way. To happen simply and effortlessly. And is it really so wrong to expect that? All relationships happen organically, but as an adult to keep a relationship alive it needs way more effort and maintenance than you would initially think.

I saw Moonrise Kingdom about a day before I decided to really put a lot of effort into the friendships that meant anything to me. The movie was fine - it was funny, charming and creative. But what I have still carried with me was the love between the two twelve year old characters. They fell in love immediately and after sending a few letters back and forth, decided to run away together. She packed her kitten, stolen library books and a record player. He brought his boy scout training and some survival gear. It was simple. They brought what they loved for that’s all they would need. They later decided to get married because they wanted to be together until they died. Simple. Matter of fact knowledge. And that’s the world I’ve been living in. 
Pursuing a love like that, a marriage like that and parenthood like that have brought me infidelity, insatiable depression and many, many, many failed relationships with other people."

I had later wrote that I was not going to decide to give up and stop trying to be anyone's friend but that it was harder and harder to take the feeling of being rejected in some cases or simply forgotten in others.
And almost a month later it's still hard to get over. I keep kicking myself and telling myself that I'm just being childish. I hope I start listening soon.
Tonight I took several hours to myself, which was surprisingly pleasant. I didn't do anything special, but being in total silence was slightly rejuvenating. It reminded me of times when I did so much in solitude. I used to spend so much time observing everything and it was easier to make sense of things that way. I could easily sort through thoughts and feelings by writing it all out, unfiltered. I've been trying to pick that habit up again and have found it ridiculously hard - stumbling through words and frazzled by pent up, unspoken emotions. 

Being in the quiet tonight was the escape I needed from the heaviness of my heart. 

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