Ok, fine. Fine! First of all, it annoys me that in this blog, I never share my silly. Perhaps I'm saving it for the living me, not the black lines on a white background place of pouring it all out to figure it out, to exorcise it. Whatever.
So I really am trying to learn. It seems that in my blankest moments, the universe keeps placing in front of me, for lack of a better term, carrots. But it's like they are partly rotten.
First, looking for nothing, just connecting, the shadow of a bear stepped in...stayed in touch...professed to possess a version of caring...gave me a sense of self beauty...reminded me of passion, hope, desire. It was a lie. A floating figure unable to flesh itself out, unwilling.
Second, just doing what I do, another moment sharing my desperation, another shadow reached out. A shadow puzzle, barely held together and blasted apart soon after we connected. Timid. Confused. Mistrustful of self. Perhaps a puzzle missing some key pieces, as well. But the shadow puzzle stayed in touch, too...kept connecting. And this one was flesh. And smelled good. Felt good.
But I feel like I need to find a way to be happy without anyone else. Or one half of me does. The other half just sits back and laughs gently, shaking her head. Because I also truly believe that connection, companionship, touch, nearness...all those synonyms are what matter. They are the meat and the mayo of life...without them, even good bread is dry.
So I get on dating sites. Which annoy the hell out of me. And I think about having parties here. I learned to knit. I learned to draw. I learned to braid my hair. I'm trying to read more again. Really, all I want to do is just shake the shit out of these illusory demons that taunt me. Why do you reach out, when all you can give me are tiny bits of only almost lies that aren't really quite lies??
It's so frustrating...so infuriating, Why can't I just embrace my widows grief?! A friend told me, with a snarky laugh (because that's what he does) that grieving IS sex for a widow. I grieve. I do! I crumble to to floor on spaghetti knees and ugly cry. Tears that make my nostrils close and push out the snot. Like nothing I've ever experienced before, and trust me, I'm a practiced crier. This is like a new salt language.
It's time. I know. But are these shadow touches lessons? Or are they chances? Temptations? Coincidences? All of the above? Or just a load of crap and nothing.
I know I am getting better, a teeny tiny bit, at patience. I want to reach out...always reach out. Do it now. Try now. See if there is something to hold...NOW. But I'm fighting to hold back because maybe that is what I need to learn. To chill. To be chased.
I don't want to be a secret connection. I want to be someone's girlfriend. I want to have someone to be excited about. I want to let my heart jump when the text blings and I want to be able to tell people about it. I am so annoyed with myself. I know I shouldn't be. I just want to be stronger in this regard. But aren't we all weak? Don't we all want connection, love, compassion? It's okay. It really is okay to long for that. To hope for that.
Maybe there is a way to long and learn to be strong alone at the same time. Ugh. Doesn't THAT sound like a fun two step?
Maybe that's what I need to do...go dancing.