A Sorrowed Frenzy

Last night was not a good night for me. My son needed to be rescued from some difficult circumstances, and my attachment got the best of me. I found myself reaching out, grasping at whatever connection I could get ahold of, grasping for answers, grasping for validation. All I ended up doing was prolonging my suffering.

I have a hard time with loss. Losing love, or more so, losing connection. This morning, I realized how my attachment was causing me to put pressure on the people I love. My kids, my partners, my friends. I saw how much I was wanting from another person instead of simply enjoying their presence.

Last night, my ego took control for a few hours, and I was not the best version of myself. I lost control and found myself wondering what was wrong with me, questioning why people eventually pull away. At first, I am fun and detached, but as time goes on, I start to rely on what others offer me. When that love fades, when that connection disappears, I spiral into a reckless frenzy of sorrow.

This morning, I realized I’ve just been trying to escape my pain, trying to ignore the fact that I am searching for something outside of myself. I do well on my own. I feel I have mastered solitude. I know how to entertain myself, how to take care of myself, how to love myself. But when I enter a relationship, I become needy.

I know I need connection. I know I need love. But I must be willing to let people love and connect with me in their own ways, not just in the ways I expect or demand them to. I don’t know what this world holds for me in terms of connection, but I do know that I will continue to know and love myself. I will continue to reflect and heal. One experience at a time.

Connection

Last night, I was reflecting on why I feel the need to post so much when I go through heartache. I realized it’s my way of seeking connection—of trying to find meaning. When I talk aloud to people, I think more clearly and in turn I am able to come to revelations about why I am the way I am. Talking helps me grow as a person. I don’t have a support system in place for the heavy times, I don’t even have a support system for lighter and happier times, so I write my heart out to anyone who will listen or read.

When I’m in a relationship, I talk to my partner. That relationship becomes the only relationship I need. But when that relationship ends, I find myself in a space of extreme solitude. A space where I need someone I trust, yet there’s no one to turn to—no one to just pick up the phone and vent to, cry to, or lean on. There is no one there to help lift me back up. I know some people would say, “Just call!” but in that headspace, I don’t want to burden people I haven’t spoken to in months, or even years, with a blubbering call just because I’m hurting. So, I suffer alone. I always have.

I’m realizing that I need to build stronger connections, and I know this is where my current lesson lies. My goal this year is to cultivate genuine, healthy, friendships. I know I can handle my inner world, but I also know I need connection. That starts by giving people my time—by reaching out to those I love spending time with and fostering bonds that can grow into something stronger and more meaningful.