I wasn't sure if I wanted to write today, so then I took a moment with my journal and meditated for a good ten minutes to see what I did want. What was my heart wanting? What did it need? What was it that I couldn't seem to get out?
After ten minutes of not actually meditating because my mind is always going about twenty bajillion miles a second and every noise was distracting me while I was already distracted by what I wasn't trying to think about, I decided that what I wanted was some damn good space that wasn't anybody else's to share because everything was a distraction when you weren't sure if your space is ever your own anymore.
This got me to thinking about myself and relationships.
I think romantic relationships have been on many people's minds recently. My best friend Mandikat is currently missing her husband something terrible. He had to leave for Scotland to finish off the whole Grad Student thing, but saving the money only had enough to bring one over at a time. Since then, she's been living with her mom here in Minnesota, waiting until things are settled enough that she can bring herself, her cat, and her dog overseas to join him.
This weekend, I hoped to stray her thoughts from how much she was missing him. But it's been difficult when she then talks of how much she loves the person she found to finally be hers. Difficult in two senses. One, because she is truly having a hard time, and nothing can be said to really get it off her mind. Two, because it just has made me realize how much I want that of my own.
I remember when I first realized I was ready to "settle down". When I say settled down, I don't necessarily mean marriage. Marriage is of it's own accord, and too serious to think of at the moment. Marriage brings about other questions that I already seem to have answered (only adoption if any kids at all, etc.). No, when I say settle down, I mean okay with having a serious relationship that would bring about topics such as, "We've been hanging out to much that it's probably more convenient and money saving if we move in together."
This is a huge step for me, and it was when it came about when I realized I could compromise this. I have been alone for a very long time. Not lonely, but alone. I've always had my own space, lucky enough to not need to share a room with a sibling while growing up. I shared a room with a roommate at the end of high school, but I managed to become an RA for that last year and have my own space. I then had my own space once more after Freshman year of college. I was used to my space, liked my space, and had a hard time sharing it. While I tend to be a very extroverted person, I have this small part of me that is still introverted and needs this space for my quiet moments. Moments where I can read without constant questions from those around me. Moments where I can write without worry that someone is talking to me and I'm not paying attention. Moments where I feel as if I am completely myself, utterly, because there is no other pretense to be when there is no one else watching.
Over the years, I have gathered some rather magnificent friends. Slowly, these moments have come to include them. It's not a second but first nature around them while in my personal space. I could work on my things while they did theirs without worry. We were comfortable.
I realized I was ready to share my space about two years after I graduated college. I was still used to keeping all of my items in my room, in one space, a sanctuary of me. But I was looking for a new place to live and make my own. I was done with that chapter of my life. I wanted an apartment, and I wanted to embark on a journey of me.
What I got was my brother as a roommate, and then a stranger.
My brother, I couldn't place anything out in his house because it was his space, not mine. He owns the house, and he didn't have a job at the time--it was his domain that I didn't really reside in. He'd stroll into my room without question, maybe knocking before bouncing in to bug me as an older brother does.
The stranger, I didn't connect with in a way that made me want to venture out of my sanctuary. I couldn't write without being pestered, couldn't read without "Tell me about blah blah blah", couldn't even play a video game without some story coming out that I didn't want to listen to. And it just made me rude, so I'd go to my place where I wouldn't have to be.
But even that got displaced in one moment that I forgot to lock my door and my roommate thought I wasn't home, but I was instead sleeping.
It may seem odd, but this hardened in me how much I realized that I would have been okay with this had it been someone I loved. I've been literally on edge even in my room, now. I hear a car door slam outside and I hope our door doesn't open because I don't want to deal with whomever walks in. And I'm not getting as good of sleep.
My space isn't my own anymore. Locking my door to get my space has me saddened, and I'm still leaving my things only in my room, not filling the house as I wish. And the frustrating part is that I actually want to share it, and can't figure out how. I'm in this stasis. I have sticks bringing my life river to a slower trickle. And I'm being driven insane with the patience needed to pick through it before I can move on.
I'm so anxious about sharing my space again, however, that I'm missing opportunities. I'm beginning to talk myself out of things, make firm assumptions of what I believe to be true, and am making the slow step back into a bitter heart I've worked so hard to make open and warm. I can tell because the nice gestures coming my way recently have me more surprised that they're occurring rather than the initial gratitude that had me so thoughtful rather than realizing this a few hours to a few days later.
I'm forgetting to take chances. Make mistakes. Get messy.
I once had this peaceful dream, where I was with someone, and we were together, just laying side by side, and, although we were separate people, our own entities, we were exactly where we needed to be, by each other, and that was what allowed us to be ourselves. This was some known fact before I woke up and realized that it was just me. It took the extra second because I had this natural urge to send an arm out, and it touched bare blankets before my confusion turned to reality.
I sometimes think I feel that in people, the secure comfort of sharing a room, but I've been recently cutting that feeling off in the old fear of the past rehashing itself. But I decided that I wouldn't allow that to happen this year. And I always keep to my promises.