12/21 public journal
I just realized something. It's hard for me to admit I like my life, when I'm in a life phase where I'm spending a lot more time on my own, with less people calling me on the phone or around day to day. Or when I have relationships actively dwindling that I have some inkling may be because I'm intolerable. It's hard to celebrate my days because I have an assumption that an aligned life means close, solid friends abounding, creating projects together, laughing and dancing, while hugging each other in beautiful places in gaggles, taking lots of photos to prove it. I do actually think that sounds fun.
But for a minute sitting here on the porch in a rocking chair with my cats and no human voices, I had a fleeting thought, what if I was as proud of my solitude as I am of what I think I want, frolicking with a core group and covered in ripples of fabric. I know anyone could respond to this post with, "rah rah, embrace your period of isolation-ish. It's so necessary for such and such at such and such a time of year such."
For a moment, I glimpsed the taste of what it would be like to celebrate my solitude without it just sounding like me defending my antisocial angst.
I'm fascinated by the concept of delusion.
12/23
I think I have nothing to write. But I've agreed to myself to finish the 40 days. I've already asked myself to skip days every now and again. But I'm total I'll still do 40. I think it's because I got "found out" about a pattern I have in relationships today. Being found out in this case meant something asking me good questions, and me answering them. I'm now asking myself if I'm bold and ready enough right now to write it here.
The pattern is, finding myself in friendships with people that I don't really want to spend much time with, because they seem really into it, even though it's not a person I would've chosen to hang out with much.
Herein lies another dimension to this whole, "I have no friends" thing. And the, I don't know what qualifies a friend thing, that I hear myself saying. I think part of it is feeling like if I don't say yes to some people, I'll be fully alone. Or I've become skeptical of myself that I'm just too hard on people, or critical, or that I'm just as flawed. Or I like parts of them and I don't want to have to give the whole thing up just for some less preferred aspects. Or I don't want to have to make future interactions awkward by saying, no I don't feel like hanging out with you. I still want to be able to be cordial or share space and enjoy each other if the opportunity arises somewhere.
Growing up in a small town I felt like some of my friends were happenstance and I didn't deeply connect with them. But I still have fond memories with them.
I have never had as much seeming choice as I do now. And I'm not as practiced in choosing. In knowing what I want and believing/feeling I can have it. Or that I'm allowed to choose.
I've spent much of my life just taking what comes and making the best of it. And much of what has come has been spectacular and often spot on.
But I also didn't have a great relationship with the word no for a long time. It felt scary to use it, it still does sometimes.
I feel there's a lot of rich conclusion statements I could make now weaving together these important themes into some brilliant life lessons / advice. But I'm still feeling out this new landscape of possibility for me and I don't want to amalgamate quite yet, as information is still filing in.
