Something I’ve noticed about the last couple of years is how many people were thrust into the introvert lifestyle, kicking and screaming. People with typically shallow connections in that vast sea of humanity that is only a few inches deep found themselves stuck inside, unable to get out and socialize for at least a couple years. Though lockdowns are over, begrudgingly for some, the repercussions are still being felt several months after. I still see people wearing masks inside and outside. COVID has taken backstage once again to school shootings, war, and court cases involving multi-millionaires who really don’t have any empathy for you, but they are what we have been turning our attention towards.
I continue to post things here. For the most part, I’m pretty isolated. There are days I’m totally fine with that. And there are days it would be nice just to find that connection with one other person that hits on all cyllinders. I’ve had that kind of depth a few times and I have always appreciated it, though it can be short lived. I find myself scrolling through the apps, looking for something that isn’t there: that connection.
I’ve been told in therapy that my melancholy requires depth of connection. I’m happiest with a few deep relationships rather than a lot of surface types. I’ve also been told that sometimes that connection that I get comes from things I post here. It’s a relationship I have with my readers. I write stuff. People read it. Sometimes they comment. Most of the time the only metric I have to see if anyone has been reading is my analytics. I’m read all around the world, which is sorta cool. Sometimes people post comments, and I can’t tell you how cool that is. I enjoy hearing people’s thoughts on what I’ve written. Talk about a dopamine hit!
Sometimes it’s the only connection I get with someone else all day. That isn’t to say I am lonely. Of course I get lonely sometimes. It’s just more that I live in solitude. At times it can be meditative. At other times, it can be so boring you want to climb the walls. And other times, like the last couple of days, it’s that itch you can’t scratch. I’ve been locked up with work for a few days and I think that might have a little to do with it. There’s that need for connection in the back of my mind and I’m searching, searching, wandering, but I can’t seem to stay focused enough to do the work. I got a post done and I have a few more to work on, but I’ve needed time to do them right. Because I hate editing and I really don’t like having to work on the same thing more than I need to. So, I took my time with things today.
Anyway, I’m in a weird place, because sometimes I feel like I’m better off alone. People either wear me out, make me sad, or become like a drug that I crave that is always in short supply. And when you run out, you get twitchy and jittery.
I hope everyone is having a safe and eventful first weekend of Summer. Once I get these assignments out of the way, I can work on the books a little more and I think that will fill that gap and scratch that it. I connect with the characters in my stories too. That’s all for tonight. I’m headed to bed.