Someone astutely told me that my previous post about loneliness struck them as being just too sad. In honesty, a part of that surprise they felt was from only knowing me recently, when much of my life has been a whirlwind of finding the good things in life and not focusing on the bad. However, this spot has always been a bit of a safe place for me, like my own little locked diary with horses on the cover and shiny rainbow stickers. “This place” meaning my myriad blogs over the years. I have never been one to shy away from emotional “honesty” (read: impressionistic oversharing of immediate reactions) and I’ve often felt, simply, that if its not for you, there’s no reason to read what I have to say.
Still, I believe this weekend was a perfect counterpoint, a complimentary version of finding a sense of contentment in being alone.
Which is a weird commentary when the realty of my weekend was one of being with people continuously for 36 full hours.
Life had to catch up, I believe. As my friend Gatorfan pointed out to me a few weeks ago, me in the middle of the throes of contemplating moving closer to my family and away from this place that then felt empty and devoid of opportunity, sometimes we need to remind ourselves of why we made the decisions we made in the first place. Specifically, she said that I needed to look back to when I made the decision to move down here, I needed to remember what it was I had envisioned about my life, and then I needed to make that vision into reality.
This weekend was about making my life into what I need it to be.
I took chances this weekend. I invited new people into my life, met some new friends for the first time, reconnected with some older ones. I shared things about myself, I made a couple of stupid decisions (licking blood is never a good decision), I laughed and made people laugh, I spent time reminiscing and spent even more time making brand new things to reminisce about. I celebrated scrapple, I tried (and fell in love with) a new drink (thank you Maria Na), I saw Harry Potter like I promised myself I would (and following through on promises to myself is something I am working on), I acquired a guitar to finally start learning to play, I intermingled people from all the various circles of my life, I shut down a bar and even went to an after party, I enjoyed rooftop drinks with even more friends, I dominated in “You Don’t Know Jack,” and I even walked down to Chinatown and had dinner by myself before meeting Gatorfan and her fiancee for HP7-2.
I may never have sat in a restaurant by myself for a meal before today. It was wonderful. I read A Dance With Dragons while enjoying some amazing Spring Rolls and some not that great Pho, and became completely charmed by the two deaf women having dinner together and signing furiously to one another, both laughing loudly and boisterously throughout.
The theme of the weekend, though, was sharing. If XYT had not been so good as to randomly decide to come down for the evening on Friday night, I don’t know that things would have started and continued in such a fulfilling manner. Everything from that point forward was just the love of sharing my life with people, and recognizing the love they were sending back at me.
For whatever its worth, it should not be surprising that things had been tough for a while. Then things were just a collection of trying to figure out what my life is going to be. Apparently, its going to involve me trying new things constantly, and not being afraid to make new friends at this point in my life.
After this weekend, I think I can envision exactly what my life is going to be. And it doesn’t feel so intimidating anymore.