and that’s the mountain of stuff I have going on in my head. I have a situation that is really about 18 separate things which I can’t quite all tease out. This may be one of the posts where I figure out what I am thinking by writing it out, but that’s the way I work. And I pay the hosting here. So.
I’m struggling with the issue of what I *think* I want, versus what I keep reaching for. What I keep thinking I want is to love someone. And to likewise be loved in return. To be part of a recognized social unit that is fun and fulfilling. But what I keep reaching for is more and more isolation and autonomy. And I’m not just making this shit up. I actually did meet someone, and I have been dating him for some time, and we’ve had the “what about” conversation, and we were both momentarily on board with more intensity, at least in the abstract. So I tried to work myself around from my position of NEVER on the idea of marriage or at least cohabitation, and I thought I had made it, and then, when we were apart and I had time to let my brain sort itself out, I realized I still can’t do that. I’m not sure I will ever be able to do that. (I should note that he came to the same conclusion about things so you don’t think I am a heartless douche.)
This is both a release and a serious loss. It’s like I wonder what is broken in me that I can’t see myself as part of a whole. But I am a whole, just me. And I like it that way. But here is the rub: I feel rejected. And I feel like less because I can’t seem to do what most people do.
Why can’t living in the woods in a tiny cabin that you built yourself from trees you yourself cut down, surrounded by books and yarn and cats and yourself be the normal way of life? And who cares if when you die no one finds your body until only bones are left?
Now that brings us to item number two. I’m an introvert. I know this comes as a shock to most of you *sarcasm*, bear with me. This means that when things are flat, I have no great need to share myself with anyone. It also means that when things are sad/rough/depressing/stressful, I have no great need to share myself with anyone. HOWEVER, when things are going really well, and I am excited, I have a very great need to share that with others, and there is no one in my life that I can do that with on a consistent basis. Yes, I have 6 kids at home. But the things that make me giddy make them roll their eyes. They piss on my parade. I don’t need that. My mom, love her to death, she’s such a pessimist that the first thing she wants to say is “but what about *insert potential problem*. I don’t need that either. All I need is someone who will laugh with me, giving me a high five when I emerge victorious from besting the attacking beast, and let me be happy for a damn minute.
Item number three: I absolutely hate it when I share that kind of thing and get no response.
Item number four: I’d rather not share than have my sharing ignored. Which brings us back to
Item number five: How soon can I build that cabin and move into it with my as yet non-existent cats?
Yeah, I got more, but I also have two midterms to take this weekend, and I still have a couple of chapters to read before I can do that. As you can see, I still have only questions, and no answers. Which shouldn’t surprise me, since I have been trying to figure this out HARD for six weeks, and loosely since 2009.
Item number six: Is it necessary to have answers?
Item number seven: I need more practice in the art of detachment.
Item number eight: Maybe if I actually blogged more often, it would satisfy that need to share my happy with the world. In a totally impersonal, introvertish way. “Because no one actually reads this.” This is the convenient lie I tell myself. We all know that what I can’t see does not exist.