Loneliness is an actual physical sensation, a longing in the muscles, a physical need to touch, to be touched. It�s an ache that you feel in your arms � the need to wrap them around someone. An emptiness you feel in your chest � the need to be smashed up against someone. I feel this a lot these days. I feel alone a lot these days. I AM alone a lot these days. Every day I try to convince myself that I don�t care, that the worst of it is probably over. But in my head, in my heart, I know I�m not. There are a lot of lonely days ahead of me.
I fear I will always feel this way, that the pain will never pass. But I know that over time, the ache eases, the lonely days grow fewer and farther between. The soft spots in my heart harden.
I seem to have a predilection for unavailable men. Men who have been too hardened by life, or by women, to be able to really commit. I haven�t delved into the psychology of WHY I do this to myself. I just know that I do. It�s not like I suddenly discovered it recently. I�ve kind of known it for a long time. But it�s hitting home a lot more these days, partly because I know that other people see it (a recent long and involved and self-revealing conversation with my brother in law where he pointed it out � no worries though, we were both enjoying the conversation and a self-revelation that was equal on both sides) and partly because recent circumstances make it pointedly obvious to me.
I don�t talk about my relationship much on here these days. Partly because I just get tired of talking about the same things, and partly because I�m embarrassed that I HAVE to talk about the same things. That all this blogging and self-realization has not led to any kind of change.
At a time when many people draw those they love closer, I�ve been shut out. It�s not the first time. It won�t be the last I fear. Brian and I have become two people who talk on line. That�s the only form of communication we�ve had in over 2 weeks. He seems unphased by it, happy with the status quo. I�m just trying to convince myself not to care. It doesn�t really work. I do care. I just do my best not to show it in public. Instead, I hover on the edge of tears and occasionally, when I�m alone and I have given myself permission, I teeter over.
The physical sensation of crying is a lot like laughing. We use the same muscles and often feel the same release when finished.
I was a clumsy child who grew into an equally clumsy adult. I was also a sensitive child. My days frequently contained slips, falls, spills and other embarrassing events that for the Three Stooges would be fantastic physical comedy. In an effort to deflect the attention that my clumsiness would purchase for me, I learned to laugh at the physical errors that occurred when I navigated the world.
There was one day when I was walking to school. I remember carrying my books and my folders. My arms were full. I was walking with some friends and/or classmates. One wrong step and I tripped over a curb, because my hands were occupied, I had trouble catching my fall. I slid along the pavement, collecting gravel in my arms, hands and knees. I was physically hurt as well as embarrassed. But rather than cry, I burst out laughing. It was easier. I got up, dusted myself off and continued walking to school.
I long had a problem with inappropriate reactions, even into adulthood. I remember smiling and starting to giggle when being given bad news. It was conditioning. I had taught myself to laugh whenever I felt like crying and my body remembered this reaction. I had to retrain myself by physically focusing on my facial muscles and relaxing them so I wouldn�t smile.
Lately, when hearing any kind of bad news, or speaking with anyone who is having any sort of emotional reaction, whether good or bad, I find my eyes tearing up. I have started to swing the other way, at least my initial reaction is to swing the other way. But I still have such fears and trepidations about the stigma of crying in front of other people. I generally manage to contain the tears and pass the watery eyes off as allergies. It�s effective in maintaining my public image, but it�s wreaking havoc on my emotional well-being.
The emotions lay trapped and never come out. Except here. This is my outlet. And sometimes, the need to cry corresponds with my solitude and I fall to the floor, slowly like something out of a movie, to cry. First I drop to my knees, then lower my head to the floor and I am bent over. I then drop sideways, curling my body up in a ball, and just hold myself as I cry. When I am spent, I relax into the physical release. It is a relief, for a moment.
I don�t know what to do at this point, and I�m starting to believe that shutting down is the answer. I think eventually I�ll stop caring. I think if a few more weeks go by it will eventually just be meaningless. I�ll see him on line and I can take or leave talking to him.
We used to talk nearly every day. I knew that most of the phone calls were initiated by me, but I never felt that they were an intrusion. It wasn�t much of an issue. But then one day it was. And I stopped calling. And when I stopped calling, we stopped talking on the phone. And every day that my phone is silent, it becomes increasingly clear to me. That he just doesn�t need me in his life. That he doesn�t want me in his world. How much of an afterthought I am. We don�t share in each other�s lives. We are more like two planets whose orbits occasionally connect. And lately, that means we are just two people who talk on line.
I believe I will eventually just shut down. I just don�t know the price I will pay for achieving that.
