Sunday, February 5, 2012

My Heart is Like a Cat on a Leash, And Other Terrible Metaphors

Holy shit, guys. That was the most emotionally debilitating round of PMS I've ever suffered through. (Hi there, very small contingent of dudes who read this!). I logged more hours curled up in the fetal position this week than probably in the last couple months combined. Normally this time of year, I'd blame the ever-so-handy Seasonal Affective Disorder, but, alas, it's only snowed about twice and it's really been quite nice out, so that really isn't an excuse. So I'm blaming the next best thing: hormones.

I don't know what my deal was. I was just really, really sad and introspective and just... well, sad. It wasn't so much a wallowing-in-self-pity spree (which used to be my old MO, so maybe I'm growing as a person), but I could definitely feel all of my insecurities rising to the surface, all my flaws, all the things I hated about myself - staring me in the face. (see: previous post.) I just felt so very not good enough. For what, I don't know. The world, I guess.

(I didn't say these were necessarily rational thoughts.)

The other part of the whole woe-is-me drama is the fact that it's finally sunk in to me how lonely my life can get. Like, in the romantic sense, not in the overall sense, because I interact with tons of people on a daily basis and I have a lot of friends and while I don't always see them or talk to them as much as I'd like, I know they're there. But sometimes? I kind of wish I had someone to come home to and cuddle on the couch with. Again, I can try to blame winter, because it's normally prime snuggle season, but... I think I've finally run the course of my experiment in independence and would really kind of like to have someone else along for the ride.

I've always prided myself on my ability to be alone, but I'm really not sure that's an admirable thing anymore. I will always enjoy being able to come home and throw my shit (not literal shit, of course, I'm not a monkey) wherever and not have it bother anyone but me, and if I don't do the dishes for a week or if the laundry piles up or I don't make the bed then it's annoying only to me. Right now, I can sleep excessively and not shower and be a completely unproductive member of society and nobody needs to know or care and can't judge me for it. Despite all of these things that definitely fall into the "pro" category, I'm kind of thinking that maybe I'm ready to trade it in for someone. Not just anyone, though. I'm not desperate, yet. But if I found someone that had that potential, I'd entertain the idea of sharing my space.

But, shit, there is NO ONE. And I'm not getting any younger. I feel like society is pressuring me to find someone before I hit old maid status. Maybe I should... before things start sagging or I have to color my hair to cover grays rather than just because I got bored of the color it was before. Like all of these assets I've been given in order to "catch myself a man" have an expiration date or something. And I've seen way, way too many movies where they're all "you're more likely to get struck by lightning than meet anyone after the age of [fill in the blank.]" (Okay, the olnly one that really comes to mind is Sleepless in Seattle but still. It stuck with me.)

And I know there's no hurry. And I know it's also possible to find someone later in life. Happens all the time. But I don't WANT to have to wait until later in life because that means more of this heart-wrenching empty time alone by myself. I have to know there's a light at the end of this tunnel, or it will drive me mad.

I met a boy a couple weeks ago in this totally-not-made-up but totally Hollywood-esque meet-cute that made for a fabulous story (that I still have not posted, because I was busy being a self-loathing asshole) and the most exciting thing about it was that it meant that maybe I had a chance to meet someone the old fashioned way. Not that there's anything wrong with the online scene (which I've been neglecting right now, because I just don't have the energy to go through a pile of messages when my heart's not in it. I'm not getting very much ROI on my time and while it's a nice ego boost to be showered in flattery, it's... well, it is what it is.) So as soon as I tell that story you're going to be all "omg that is awesome!" and it was awesome but maybe I'm ruining it in advance because it hasn't gone anywhere. Honestly, I think my friends are more bummed about his not calling than I am. Maybe it's because I never expected him to. Maybe it's because that situation was to serve as nothing more than a bit of hope to keep me going. In which case, it worked. Because it did give me a bit of hope that I needed to not completely give up on myself.

Orrrr - and I almost hesitate to add this last part because I know there will be Opinions on the matter and I don't really want to hear them because I know what they're going to be and I DON'T DISAGREE WITH YOU but that doesn't change the fact that it is what it is and I can't magically flip a switch and fix things though you know if I could, I would - maybe I'm still hung up on the last guy I dated, because I am an irrational being who stupidly decided it would be a fantastic idea to still be friends because it was better than nothing and because, of all the guys I've dated and subsequently cut out of my life, I actually couldn't bear to not have him to talk to. Even if it was just snarky text messages. It was more miserable for me to cut off all contact than it was to just move on. So I've delayed that healing process quite substantially with that particular move. It probably doesn't help that there are mixed signals all over the place and the level of our friendship isn't exactly 100% platonic, either.  I mean, I know better. I know I'm just making things worse for myself. You don't need to tell me. I KNOW. I don't want to hear it. I just want to complain about it because it still hurts sometimes and it hurt a lot this week because naturally in the course of the Being Lonely, stuff like this readily comes to mind.

Look, I know I'm being stupid. If I emphasize this, will you promise not to bombard me with comments and emails indicating as such? It's bad enough as it is. I really don't need to hear it again.

If I could just get my head and heart back on the same page together, everything would be golden. Because my brain is totally ready to move on, it has acknowledged all the things it needs to acknowledge, and it's basically standing there like a person with a cat on a leash. (My heart being the cat, in this metaphor. Uh.. hang with me. It may or may not make sense when I'm done.) It's patiently waiting for the damn thing to move, and giving it gentle and then not-so-gentle tugs on the leash and trying to drag the damn thing down the sidewalk. Because the cat/heart is a fucking stubborn asshole, which anyone who knows cats or hearts can agree with.

I lied. That really didn't end up making much sense after all. But you got the idea, right? Yes? Great, moving on.

Basically, I know that I'm being a stubborn idiot and I'm not really going to budge until some other dude comes along and manages to sweep me off of my feet somehow (remember, my brain is still paying attention, and scoping out the various routes it can take)... and since the odds of that seem remarkably low in my neck of the woods, I guess I will just have to wait it out. Or I could push a little harder on the situation of the Boy I Haven't Actually Told You About Yet. Or I could hop back online and try a little harder to make a connection there. I have options, sort of.

Being lonely and being alone, though, are not the same thing.

They often cross paths with each other, but at the end of the day, I can deal with being alone. I don't mind it. It's when the being lonely pops up that makes things tricky. And you mix that with a healthy dose of self-loathing that was already brewing?

You get a Friday evening spent curled up in the fetal position, drifting in and out of sleep for the next sixteen hours until you get called in to work at your part-time job because nobody can ever seem to work their shifts and because I am still a doormat that can never say no. Sigh. It was good for me, though. It got me out of my damn house and helped shake off some of the weird clouds that were hovering (metaphorically) over my head.

It doesn't really matter, though, and you know why it doesn't really matter? Because almost like clockwork, I'm back to feeling like my usual self again. Enough that I want to kick my own ass for this last week of being a pathetic, weepy mess. Seriously, what the fuck. I guess self-flagellation in the form of an obnoxious blog post about myself will have to do.

Yes, I know.



ameena said...

oh girl, i have been there so many times. like a lot of the time. loneliness is the worst. and i'm always convincing myself i am running out of time or all the decent men are being taken. and my irrationality spins out of control and i'm aware that everything i think is irrational but i am so damn lonely that i don't even care. and then just like that the flip switches and i am rational again and i feel a little bit better.

Ashley, the Accidental Olympian said...

Hug. That is all.