The space next to me is familiar.
Right now, it is filled with the comforts of being alone. A book. A computer. Headphones. Maybe some of yesterday’s clothes.
For me, the idea of jumping back into the state of my singular mind is momentarily easy. The more I think, the sadness finds its way in, reminding me that it’s not that easy, and that finding someone you can really do life with is rare.
I have opened myself — and have poured myself between two glasses, back and forth. Spilling and making a mess and not ever having as much as I started with. That’s kind of what it feels like to care for someone when you are also learning what they need and what you need.
I feel a shred a failure.
More so, a deep crack in the state of my world, one that you build so strong when you’re alone for so long.
But I also think that maybe this crack is good. It allows things to shift and settle.
Shifting and settling.
Maybe that’s what this is.
It does hurt. But most things that require growth require digging.
Digging and lots-of-tending-to, water and air.
Oh. And light.
So where do I stand now?
My brain immediately tells me to dive into my work. It makes things easier. Put it all aside and go back 100% into what works, and maybe what is easy.
Maybe you do this too.
There is no model or manual for heartache, there is also none for the baby steps of love. It is wobbly and scary and you fall down a lot.
You hit your chin on the coffee table and look at the person who was supposed to be holding you. How dare you let this happen to me…again?
Today, I will do what I can to be good to myself, and try my best to keep my bridges up.
Timing and life are certainly unpredictable, but to know myself is to let both of those things go.
Things take time.
And I’m letting it take me,
to shift and to settle.