The search for connection.
Ah yes, now isn’t that a thing to write about?
So many thoughts and feelings, but so private and dear. Sacred, even.
I love life, fellow humans most. More than dogs, even, but i never say so. Why would i? Dogs are forever loyal and loving, seeing our flaws, smelling our rot, and yet still they come with love and vulnerability. Some may say that’s because they’re domesticated beasts and lack the intelligence to do otherwise. I say that if you’re privileged to be friends with a dog, you already know that’s not entirely the case. It’s more and more and so much more than that.
Humans are terrific and terrible creatures. They are my kind and i’m genetically predisposed to seek them out above all other living things: for connection, for communion, for continuation, for… completion.
But it’s a dangerous road, full of traitors and treachery, disappointment and death.
Disappointment is such a mild word, devastation likely serves better, and far too frequently.
I still want people in my life. Maybe need too, but only in the broadest sense. I’ve been more alone than i can convey, so i know that if i could create ideal circumstances -like a cabin in some remote woods with good reception- i could manage well enough to still be glad to be alive. It’d be easier in so many ways, but i don’t want that.
I want people around me.
I’m encased in bubbles. Barriers of varying parameters and permeability, yes.
In spite of everything though, i want other humans in my life.
Otherwise, my bubbles would be superfluous.
This is what the internet refers to as “vaguebooking”.
This post is because of something going on in my life that i can’t/won’t be specific about yet, but it’s so huge and affecting me so much, that i need to write about it for my sake.
I know one family wanted nothing to do with me.
I know the other appeared to welcome me, but the price of admission was high. I was to be the cheap whitewash on the fence around their putrid garden of secrets.
One day i looked around me and saw that i’d built my own family, and that it was sufficient. Even better than enough, rather than an accident of adoption or marriage – i had chosen each and every one, save the ones born to me.
And those i loved most and held dearest.
And there’s the rub.
Other than my children and my grandchildren, only 5 are tied to me by DNA. One is hidden from me through private adoption, and the other 4 are not currently a part of my life, and it may well remain so.
The call to belong is like a siren song in my mind. I don’t know what to do with the ache in my heart. It pains me so, but i fear the cost too high and potentially deadly.
When did Shakespeare move into my brain?
I wasn’t aware there were any vacancies up there; it seems overcrowded already, really.
Shallst i continueth to poundeth mine breast this snowy nonce, perchance tarry longer upon this knoll of woe?
What in tarnation is goin’ on? Woo, doggie, Jed (Clampett)!
I was just feeling my oats (Gia Gunn) and my heart heckin’ hurts, Karen (the internets).
We’re fine. We’re all fine here, now, thank you.
~Han Solo, Star Wars IV: A New Hope
I have written like this most days when i can write at all. I share this today because i’m stronger than yesterday. Now it’s nothing but my way, and my loneliness isn’t killing me anymore.
Seriously, i like a lot of art that other people consider crap. I figure, as long i ain’t takin’ it in with your senses – what does it matter?
* I love Britney Spears – come at me.