I know my spirit is calling my attention when I am more erratic than usual.
Before sitting down to write this letter, I tried working at two different places.
I was seated for a total of 5 minutes.
Location 1? Too stuffy. Too quiet. Not enough vibe.
Location 2? Too dim. Too quiet. Not enough vibe.
There is something here; a pattern I should address.
I had a calm, spacious space to work without disruption; I was tucked away in the corner of a room with access to plug sockets (equivalent to striking gold), lounge areas with thoughtfully curated interiors, attentive wait staff and privacy.
This is my ideal set-up, but today I was agitated.
Connection. Escape.
Both have been on my mind recently; I’ll choose one (for the sake of time).
For as long as I can remember I have craved deep connection, while feeling equally out of my depth (see also: scared). Wanting to belong and be rooted in. To be close(r).
Today the friend will follow up on a tender something I quickly let slip before the end of our conversation. I was weighed down, then; feelings leaking. But today is not last week and I have emotionally sobered up – cringing at how emotionally messy I am; it reveals I don’t have it together, I am confused and I make silly decisions sometimes. I touch it and then I move on ‘babes it’s a lot – we’ll catch up about it later – how are you?’
How many times have we found ourselves exposed and soft only when worn down by the emotions we have stuffed in – when our bodies can no longer contain it?
Or only at the precipice of an emergency?
How many times do we avoid being judged? Avoid being seen?
I hear you say avoidant attachment, but I’m not sure how useful it is for me to adopt another label.
What is true for me right now is this: I really desire to be seen for the woman I am now and I really want to feel closer to people and deepen my existing friendships and continue to make new, deeper connections, and I am batting back this recurring pattern of intimacy avoidance.
There – I said it.
It’s real and it’s here and it’s been a lifelong journey, and I’ve been chipping away at it. Letting myself be a mess and be witnessed, but it’s fucking scary. It’s scary to be judged.
Intimacy cannot exist without vulnerability, I repeat this over and over.
I have been drip-feeding.
It’s hard to maintain.
I just want to show up.