I guess today is one of those days. I’m usually pretty positive—or at least I try to be. I try to talk about and appreciate progress and growth, to focus on small victories. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that growth is not (and never has been) linear. Today acted as a reminder of that.
It’s strange. The pandemic has given me an opportunity to pursue personal growth and to discover the things and people most important to me. What’s ironic about that, is that the clearer my priorities become, the more aware I am that they’re just out of reach. At this point, I’m craving the simple things: a hug from a familiar face, cuddles with my family dog, going to the beach—that kind of stuff. The little things that I took for granted for so long are now the things that I miss the most. I can’t do any of that. No one can; I’m not unique in my situation. Even though I’m part of a collective struggle, today I feel as though I’m going it alone.
I have had days like this before. I used to have a lot more of them, but they’re becoming fewer and farther in-between. It’s one of those days where I could be standing in a room full of people and still feel alone, disconnected from the people around me but forced to watch them enjoy each other’s company. Because humans are social creatures, I assume this feeling of loneliness is a common trait. I think it exists in us constantly, lying dormant until provoked. Today, that provocation was someone I care about dearly, and the catalyst of the reaction was my anxious brain.
I think when you lose someone, or even a piece of someone, you’re left with this empty feeling. I don’t think that the feeling of emptiness is contingent upon the role that person played in your life, but I do think that the more significant the role they play, the bigger the hole they leave behind, and consequentially… the harder that void is to fill. This particular person has a special place in my heart—and likely always will. While so far I’ve only lost a small piece of what we had, the hole left behind has been impossible to fill or ignore. This person in particular fulfilled many roles in my life at one point; they were my person. On top of being my best friend and my confidante, I knew that I could depend on them even when I couldn’t depend on myself. They were my source of certainty before I knew how to act as my own. For that reason, they’ll always have a special place in my heart.
There’s pros and cons to loving someone. On one hand, experiencing life with someone is the biggest blessing. Having someone who knows the deepest, darkest and most intimate parts of your mind gives you this overwhelming feeling of acceptance. Having someone like that around makes the ups feel so much higher, and the downs feel not quite as bad. The cons, of course, is that when you lose that person, everything that you shared together is shrouded in grey. All of a sudden you’re skipping songs on your playlist, avoiding eating particular foods or watching shows because it reminds you of how things used to be. You can’t even dance around in your living room without feeling like you’re missing a partner. The biggest con of all is the feeling of “what if”, and the depth of that feeling is further perpetuated by the knowledge that you’ll probably never know what could have been.
All of those things are pretty terrible, and they’re easier to run from than experience over and over again. However, in this case, I have chosen to accept all of that discomfort because losing this individual altogether would hurt so much more. Once again, they’re just out of reach.
To be honest, it’s hard for me at this point to imagine that feeling of love going away. Loving someone is a constant choice, a decision you make every morning to get up and make space for someone that you care about. For myself, it is so much easier to give love than to withhold it. I feel like I have this constant overflow of affection, and when there is no one there to receive it, it feels like my heart might burst. That bursting feeling combined with the loneliness is enough to overwhelm me completely. So, I give love freely and deal with the consequences later, because I would always rather love too hard than not love at all.
Today, this person told me that they were having a tough day. They were pre-emptively mourning what they perceived to be the impending and inevitable end of our friendship. To them, it seemed like the natural progression of things—and maybe it is. The more time you spend apart from someone, the more natural distance feels. The more natural distance feels, the less connected you are. At least generally that’s how it works. The conflict arises because from my perspective, the equation isn’t that straightforward: distance ≠ disconnection ≠ loss of affection. Because of that complete lack of linear relationship, to me, distance often feels like abandonment. So today, when this person was proactively mourning the loss of our friendship, I felt that loss too, but for a different reason. To me, rather than “inevitable”, the loss of our friendship would feel like a choice—a choice to walk away. I don’t know how I will handle that feeling. All I know for certain is that how I feel right now barely alludes to what may come.
This blog post is sadder than usual, but I guess it’s also a reminder to my future self that progress really isn’t linear. Sometimes we feel like it might be, but what’s more typical is periods of exponential growth followed by periods of regression. Growth is important because it gives me a feeling of success that motivates me to persist. However, as good as growth feels, it is the periods of regression that bring the most profound lessons and build tenacity.
Today I crossed some of my own boundaries, but I did it for someone I care about. I overextended my empathy and took on someone else’s emotions. I obsessed over a future situation that I have no control over. I leaned into my dark corners; corners filled with anxiety, fear of abandonment, sadness and helplessness. Today, I took a step back. Tomorrow, I’ll forgive myself. Because (although it hasn’t become apparent yet) there really is a lesson to be learned in every experience, and today is no exception.