I'm pretty good at listening. People come to me, and I offer all the right words and advice that sounds pretty when spoken, but will never happen in practice. I know because I'd never take my own advice. I know what should happen, what is supposed to be done, but no one ever does the wise and rational thing. At least I don't, anyway. People want to hear the right words because the right words are comforting. But once we feel better, we want to go back to bad habits and self-inflicted suffering. Or is that just me?
The thing about being a good listener is that sometimes I want to talk, not listen. I want to be listened to. It's partially my own fault. I don't actively seek someone to listen. Instead, I sit and stew and write a blog post. I knew this blog served a purpose. Thanks for listening, internet. I owe you a beer.
So here's the thing -- no one wants to be alone. Not really. I like to flaunt my freedom and my ability to answer to no one and nothing and leave bras on the kitchen table and not shower for two days, if I don't want to. But when my bra is on and I'm showered and there's no one to talk to -- damn. Is this it?
I keep myself busy with great friends, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. But when the bonfire's burned out, the race is over, the weekend visit ends, do you know what you are? Alone.
And no one really wants that.
Sure, there have been times (time and time and time again) when all I wanted was my space. MINE. GIVE IT TO ME. GO AWAY. I'm selfish, I know. I feel crowded and antsy when I start to lose control of my space and time. But the cure for that is balance, and maybe I've never found my balance. I've yet to grasp the concept a healthy mix of alone and together. I think they also call it a functional relationship. Whoever "they" are. Instead, I go about wanting what I can't have to avoid the functional LIKE A CHAMP.
A year and a half ago I made the decision to walk away from a relationship. A dysfunctional relationship, of course. But when I walked (Ran, really. And slammed things), I walked away from closure. Absolutely none, not even a real goodbye. No closure, too much history, and incredibly wild emotions. All of that became my undoing six months later when the opportunity for closure presented itself. Of course I took it. Of course I wanted to say goodbye. Of course it opened Pandora's Box, and I fell hard down a rabbit hole of feelings and angst for the rest of, well, ever. Literally forever. You can only torture yourself for so long, though. In the very, very, very end, I walked away. Again. Which took an amazing amount of willpower I had no idea I possessed, so really, high five to me. Way to go, self.
However, I continue to want what I can't have. But not him, necessarily. Everyone else. The unavailable. The unrealistic. The are-you-goddamn-kidding-me. I've come to believe I actively seek out situations I know can't work, I just don't know why. It's certainly not because I want to be alone. But it can't be purely coincidental that I continue to be alone and mad at myself for it. I choose these situations for myself. I fail at choosing.
So this is the part where I tell myself to stop making that choice. To put myself out there in the emotionally available pond where the stable fishes swim. The single ones, too. To grow a backbone. To accept a good thing when a good thing happens. To stop pretending that being alone IS SO MUCH FUN, YOU GUYS, TRY IT. Because it's not. Not really, anyway.
I know there is a way to be both. Free and together. I just don't know how to get there, exactly. I'm happy, don't get me wrong. I love my life. But "happy and alone" is old news. I'm over it. Don't tell my cats, though. They're gonna be so pissed.
But probably what I'm going to do is not take any of my sound, rational advice, and continue to choose wrong and swim in shark-infested waters because, hey, I've made it this far, haven't I?
You can never say I'm not consistent.