Beautiful Mess

One of the big adjustments to being single is not having someone who must listen to you when you are upset. The lack of intimacy, the space left where someone should be holding your hand. When you have bad days, for whatever reason, you are left to navigate them alone, unless you go out of your way to reach out for comfort. This reaching out has never been a strong point of mine. Instead, I'll shut myself in or pretend to others that I'm shining through the darkness.
Today was no good. Several events culminated to make it not good. In an attempt to make it better, I made plans to go out. Drink. Have a good time. Only when it came time to actually do it, I found that was not what I wanted. I found that what I wanted was some real time with someone. Some time to sit down and talk about how I was feeling, about what was upsetting me. Only, in my stubborn and and somewhat self deprecating mind I didn't feel I had that person to reach out to. Now, I'm sure that many of friends would have been willing to listen, including the ones with whom I had plans. But, that wasn't really what I wanted. The intimacy of knowing someone and really communicating is something that, in my opinion, doesn't happen very often. Instead, we end up drinking away and mashing through issues that require more time and attention than we seem to want to give them.
Reaching out would also mean vulnerability. Giving out a piece of myself that I'm not ready to. Yes, all of my friends know I'm a mess, but I'm at least a private mess. I don't have melt downs, don't have crazy days, at least not outwardly. Exposing that side to someone feels to dangerous. For now, exposing my crazy through weekly blog posts is enough for me...