I don’t understand people, or rather the purpose of people. Through the break-up process, I regain independence and separate identity, but I also take on loneliness and isolation. I don’t want to stand alone, but I’m supposed to.
I work on so many private projects ranging from sewing, soldering, writing to programming. I enjoy outlining a design by myself, pushing through repetitive tasks, and reaching the finish line. I run alone through the great outdoors, not only surrounded by the unmitigated world but moving too fast to be part of it.
Yet, I have deep, unmet craving for connection. Intimacy is the food on which I live. I desire to be noticed, appreciated, confronted, praised, and supported. I want to grow, love, and connect. My job on this planet is to create shared experiences that make everyone feel special.
But how do I both need people and stay independent of them? If I let go too much of others, my personal island drifts out to sea. A friend once accused me of sinking my metaphorical claws too much in people’s personal spaces. I’m terrible at letting others just be. “Play with me!” recurs from my lonely childhood.
Still, I see movies on my own. I take lonely walks up city hills to reflect and roar down below at San Francisco denizens. I cook for myself. If I want people so badly, why do I default so much to doing everything on my own?
So starts an insightful three months to notice what people mean to me and how I interact with others. I’m forced into independence, but perhaps I can change my old patterns to let people be with me but not under me.