The Politics of Lonely

This morning I called my friend Brian in New York (whom I love franticly) and when he asked me how I was doing I found myself breaking down and saying that I was so lonesome that I could die. And in the moment that I was saying it, it didn't feel like an exaggeration.

I would like to be able to handle major transitions with a sort of grace that I have not yet been capable of. In fact, I would like to handle any situation with even a modicum of grace. Lately it seems like every attempt I make at handling anything at all ends in an almost comic state of disaster. In my efforts to be natural and spontaneous I end up drinking too much and then saying WAY too much and then feeling like a total ass the next day. It's like I am struggling to be myself, but what comes out is this side of me that is so needy and bothered and scared. It's obnoxious.

Trying to make new friends sucks. Having the people that you love the most spread out across the country sucks. I realize right now how spoiled I was in the place I lived before I moved to Austin. The community of people that I enjoyed there seemed to have come together so effortlessly, it was so easy to be a part of. And people knew me, they understood when to take me seriously and when to tell me to fuck off. So few explanations were needed.

That's what I miss the most right now. Just being able to say whatever I need to say to someone and not worry about coming across like a lunatic. Actually, I miss a lot more than that right now. I miss being able to walk out of my front door and stroll down the street knowing that somewhere in the next few blocks I'll run into someone I know. I miss a Tuesday night organically turning into a non-stop laugh riot because of a random assortment of accessible people. I miss being the first person that someone would call to come over if he or she needed some company for any fucking reason at all. DAMN IT. I am fucking lonely.

I'm struggling with the idea that in order to progress academically or professionally or howeverly you have to leave behind what may be the most comfortable to you. I consciously and willingly left that cozy little town because I felt like it was time. I felt like my life had to change so that I could make an effort to get to wherever it is that I think I need to get to. So now, here I am, taking these steps because something is compelling me to believe that it's what I have to do and all I can think about sometimes is what I would give for a few buddies to show up at my door with a case and nothing to do for the next few hours.

And sure, I know. These things take time. And fucking more time. Just give it time. I am over that shit. I'm impatient and impulsive. I'm not stoic or, I don't know,... calm. I need people. Comrades. Company. Laughter. I'm sick of small talk. In fact, I hate small talk. I need people to dive into shit with, fucking wade around and see what we can come up with. I need people who I can lock arms with as we set out to just be fucking ludicrous. I'm no good at being casual. Or lonely.

At least I know they're there though. My tribe. Thank fucking god. They may be spread out across this big, dumb ass country, but I can usually get one of them on the horn when I am in desperate need of reassurance. Which is all the fucking time, these days. I called Brian this morning in tears and by the time I got off the phone with him my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. I'm so grateful to that. It helps me to know that the reason it's hard to find genuine friends in a new place is because the standards I have for friendship are set by fantastic, beautiful people who may not be able to combust out of thin air onto the barstool next to me, even though I may want them to. Holy shit I miss my friends.

I know there are cool people here. I've met some of them. Most of them think I'm a fucking nut job, though. Whatever. I guess I'll just give it some time. Some wonderful fucking time. I hate when cliches become relevant to your life, it feels so pathetic. I need a fucking hug.

Mania.

I have days when I am sure that I am witness to my own life spinning out of control, but then I will clean my room and do my laundry and all of sudden everything seems right again. I have days when I will find myself walking alone across campus or down the street and realize that I am about to burst into laughter prompted by nothing more than a random thought or memory cruising around my consciousness. I have days when out of the blue I know for a fact that if anyone utters even the slightest word to me, I will break down and cry. And then I have days when I am totally fine, not a care in the world.

In the last several years I have become a staunch advocate of having, experiencing, and expressing whatever emotion you are feeling while you are feeling it. Some people almost instinctively convert one emotion into another because it's easier to express. I used to turn everything into anger. If I was sad, disappointed, frustrated, confused, lonely, etc. the easiest I could think to deal with it was to become irrationally angry. I could come up with an endless list of reasons why I did this or I could sum it up in three words: fear of vulnerability.

I finally evolved from being angry all the time because (surprise, surprise) it was starting to drive me, my family, and my friends insane. Plus, I got a little older and realized how much of a weight it is to carry all that bullshit around. Anger will stew for as long as you let it until it finally just gets rotten. And, frankly, I'm not nearly as scared of vulnerability as I once was. I remember sitting at a bar (one so many of us know and love) a few years back having a heart to heart with my friend John about how no matter where you want to be, or where you want to get to in your life, you are only ever going to be exactly where you are. The present. Avoiding how you feel, trying to transform emotions when you're having them is essentially a way to not live in the present. We decided it was a good thing to embrace all the emotions that would inevitably run their course through our lives and our bodies because it meant we were human.

The thing is, now I feel like I'm a crazy person. A crazy person who is very open with her emotions. One day I'm laughing so hard my body feels like it's going to turn inside out and the next day I can literally see a heavy, little rain cloud hovering over my head. And maybe at this point some of you are thinking I should take my ass to doctor, what with all the happy pills on the market these days, but it's not like I'm dangerous crazy or inconsolable crazy; I just feel, I don't know... crazy.

Maybe "crazy" isn't the best choice of words, considering there are truly KUH-RAYZEE people out in the world. It's just that the older I get, the more my life seems like an experiment I conduct on myself. There's no way that it's "supposed" to be, there is no such thing as how I "normally" act because virtually every big thing or experience that happens is happening for the first time. How could I have a precedent? I don't even know how I'm going to feel from one day to the next emotionally. Emotions don't exist in categories, they exist on a spectrum. You can land anywhere and never've been there before. It's all brand new. And it's fucking crazy.

My dad tells me that your twenties can be the most emotionally intense years because every decision you make has the potential to affect the rest of your life. I'm going to go with him on this one. Maybe being a spazz right now will provide insight for me the future. Or maybe I'll just end up a 45 year old spazz. Whatever happens, I'm going to stop worrying about it today because I have laundry to do and my room is a mess.