Nowadays, it only cuts me on the surface. It no longer feels like the knife has sunken deep and stays for longer than is necessary to kill me. Nowadays, it just feels like an old wound that cuts open with the prick of the knife every time I think about. And I think about it all the time.
This independence that I have built for myself took a long time for me. Even though I'm in a committed relationship, I enjoy spending time alone at coffee shops, at the mall, at yoga and the gym, on airplanes, in my car, and even at the movies. I find myself doing this because nowadays, it's hard to find people, specifically women, who are willing to commit to friendships outside of their immediate, inner circle. It's easier to commit to myself than to commit to others who aren't willing to reciprocate.
Maybe that's why I have opted to join networking events and use the BumbleBFF app. When I actively put myself in situations where I'm surrounded by strangers, I know it's because I will find folks like myself who are willing to open up to a connection. That's all I really want -- an open connection. An open connection with someone in LA who would be down in a heartbeat to join me on my typical solo adventures: to get coffee, to shop, to work out, to travel, to watch movies, to just connect. Is that so much to ask?
But that's the thing -- it is a lot to ask. It is a lot for me to ask that blatantly of someone. Sure I search for it, but will I really find that ideal friend to make that connection? I see so many flaws in people, but not as much as I see the flaws in myself. Because of that, my active search for some form of strong, platonic connection in LA has felt futile. It will go something like this: we meet, we make that initial connection, we bond and hang out a couple of times, we consider ourselves best friends...and then I say something or they say something that triggers the other, or an action is made that shouldn't have been made...and shortly after that, it gets harder to rebuild that connection. Before you know it, it's no longer the relationship bonding moments or the time spent together that links us together. It is only the distance and time spent away that even gives us that superficial connection to each other. When people ask me if we know each other, my typical response is, "Oh yeah, we were such-and-such friends back in a-time-period-that-feels-like-it-was-long-ago-but-really-wasn't. It's been awhile since I've seen them..."
It might seem like a complete paradox, but at this point in my life right now, I feel an "independent loneliness". I thrive when I am alone and independent, because I know that I am the only person I can rely on to commit to myself. The more time I spend marinating in this thing that I call "independent loneliness", the more I realize...I enjoy it and appreciate it. I appreciate being my own best friend. But if I stay alone for too long, my mental loneliness will creep in and cut open the wound just on the surface. It's up to me to decide whether I want to keep the knife in for too long.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends that I love dearly. They have made my life feel less lonely than I think it is. To the friends I still have -- thank you so much for staying with me, supporting me, reciprocating my requests to hang out, even if it's just to decline. Thank you for being part of my life.
To the friends I had that are no longer a consistent presence in my life -- you have touched my life in a way that has made me who I am today. Although we have parted ways, I find myself expressing gratitude for the time in my life where we were so connected, we were inseparable. If it feels like I harbor some sort of resentment to the friends that have left, it is not as much as the resentment that I feel for myself for not being the better friend to someone else.
Now that we are completely at the bottom of the barrel that is my life, I realize that the reason I feel like I feel this independent loneliness is that I am still learning how to be not just a good friend, I am also learning how to be me. To live my own life, to take ownership and agency of myself. The imagined knife of loneliness is just my mind spilling unwarranted emotions of how I shouldn't be feeling like I can grow independently and that I shouldn't be alone all the time and that the amount of friends I have is not enough to be worth it. But the truth is, I'm grateful for what I have now, and just because someone else's idea of "best friendship" is completely different from mine, it doesn't make it any less special. When I have to boil all of this down to one take away...I need to be my own best friend before I become anyone else's best friend.
So here is to independent loneliness. To growth. To learning. To companionship, whether it's by myself and with others. This is my way of learning how to love.
This independence that I have built for myself took a long time for me. Even though I'm in a committed relationship, I enjoy spending time alone at coffee shops, at the mall, at yoga and the gym, on airplanes, in my car, and even at the movies. I find myself doing this because nowadays, it's hard to find people, specifically women, who are willing to commit to friendships outside of their immediate, inner circle. It's easier to commit to myself than to commit to others who aren't willing to reciprocate.
Maybe that's why I have opted to join networking events and use the BumbleBFF app. When I actively put myself in situations where I'm surrounded by strangers, I know it's because I will find folks like myself who are willing to open up to a connection. That's all I really want -- an open connection. An open connection with someone in LA who would be down in a heartbeat to join me on my typical solo adventures: to get coffee, to shop, to work out, to travel, to watch movies, to just connect. Is that so much to ask?
But that's the thing -- it is a lot to ask. It is a lot for me to ask that blatantly of someone. Sure I search for it, but will I really find that ideal friend to make that connection? I see so many flaws in people, but not as much as I see the flaws in myself. Because of that, my active search for some form of strong, platonic connection in LA has felt futile. It will go something like this: we meet, we make that initial connection, we bond and hang out a couple of times, we consider ourselves best friends...and then I say something or they say something that triggers the other, or an action is made that shouldn't have been made...and shortly after that, it gets harder to rebuild that connection. Before you know it, it's no longer the relationship bonding moments or the time spent together that links us together. It is only the distance and time spent away that even gives us that superficial connection to each other. When people ask me if we know each other, my typical response is, "Oh yeah, we were such-and-such friends back in a-time-period-that-feels-like-it-was-long-ago-but-really-wasn't. It's been awhile since I've seen them..."
It might seem like a complete paradox, but at this point in my life right now, I feel an "independent loneliness". I thrive when I am alone and independent, because I know that I am the only person I can rely on to commit to myself. The more time I spend marinating in this thing that I call "independent loneliness", the more I realize...I enjoy it and appreciate it. I appreciate being my own best friend. But if I stay alone for too long, my mental loneliness will creep in and cut open the wound just on the surface. It's up to me to decide whether I want to keep the knife in for too long.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends that I love dearly. They have made my life feel less lonely than I think it is. To the friends I still have -- thank you so much for staying with me, supporting me, reciprocating my requests to hang out, even if it's just to decline. Thank you for being part of my life.
To the friends I had that are no longer a consistent presence in my life -- you have touched my life in a way that has made me who I am today. Although we have parted ways, I find myself expressing gratitude for the time in my life where we were so connected, we were inseparable. If it feels like I harbor some sort of resentment to the friends that have left, it is not as much as the resentment that I feel for myself for not being the better friend to someone else.
Now that we are completely at the bottom of the barrel that is my life, I realize that the reason I feel like I feel this independent loneliness is that I am still learning how to be not just a good friend, I am also learning how to be me. To live my own life, to take ownership and agency of myself. The imagined knife of loneliness is just my mind spilling unwarranted emotions of how I shouldn't be feeling like I can grow independently and that I shouldn't be alone all the time and that the amount of friends I have is not enough to be worth it. But the truth is, I'm grateful for what I have now, and just because someone else's idea of "best friendship" is completely different from mine, it doesn't make it any less special. When I have to boil all of this down to one take away...I need to be my own best friend before I become anyone else's best friend.
So here is to independent loneliness. To growth. To learning. To companionship, whether it's by myself and with others. This is my way of learning how to love.
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