Lonesome
I often want to feel less. Most of the time, actually.
I have, generally speaking, been too much my entire life.
I feel too much, say too much, do too much, and sometimes, I think I probably love too much. It's the double-edged sword you face when you wear your heart on your sleeve, yet desperately seek to show less emotion, to feel less.
It's not that I find this to be an inherently bad quality within myself. I think it results in a little more pain, but also more love. Sadness, but benevolence.
I was speaking with a friend the other day about what it's like to begin to date again after a breakup. I'm exactly a year out from my breakup. I was in a relationship for five years, so it took me much longer than I had planned or was prepared for to be in a comfortable place to date again. This friend had asked me how I knew it was time to start dating again after this breakup. I told them it was a feeling, an instinctive notion within me... I just knew. I had done all of the things -- I have grieved the relationship, I had gotten pissed off, I had put all my time and efforts into things that made me feel fulfilled and happy. I had become a completely different person, separate of my former relationship. I had unfriended his family members and close friends. I had felt sad, I had felt glad, I had felt everything in between. I had written and screamed and ran and danced and cried. I had tested things out, slings and arrows, highs and lows. I had grieved properly.
I knew it was time. I had been alone long enough and in an ideal enough way to know that I was ready to give some of myself to someone else. I just... knew.
Being single in New York City can often feel like the loneliest position in the entire universe. Dinners alone, movies alone, sleeping alone, everything alone. Lonesome. It can feel daunting and totally fucked and great all at once. But by my lonesome is where I've been given the miraculous gift of total and unadulterated love. I have found a love and respect for myself that I have never known previously in my life. This love is not perfect. It's not sappy quotes about being your own best friend. It's often really goddamn messy and a lot of ridiculous internal dialogue. It's still lonely. But it isn't the type of loneliness that sinks your heart to the pit of your stomach or makes you question every aspect of your existence. It's a lonely where you enjoy the quiet and your mind gets calm and stillness is accompanied by a sense of safety. Do you know what I mean? Like the quiet where your solitude doesn't feel so scary. The quiet where your heart beats a little slower and comfort seeps into your person and your own company feels like the only company you could want in that moment. This quiet used to terrify me; it used to sneak up on me and make my pulse race and make me sleep with a light on. Now it feels cozy. Comfortable. Comfortable silence.
This feeling of thinking there's "too much" within me -- too many feelings, too many thoughts, just... too much -- it has been systemically ingrained into my psyche since I was a child. Don't speak too loud, you'll scare them off. Don't have too many opinions, you'll seem arrogant. Don't laugh too hard. Don't smile too big. Don't love too hard. Don't feel too much. Don't take up too much space. Don't. Less space. Not enough. Too much.
This concept... to shrink, to do less, to be less, in a small effort to please them more... I have no other thoughts on this other than a simple and resounding "fuck that." By being comfortable with myself, and by working hard to get there, I have found through dating that there are, more often than not, people who will want you to shrink so they can feel comfortable... who don't want you to share your feelings or come on too strong or sit back or come in second to them. Listen to me, as I need the reminder just as much as I am sure a vast majority of you do... you will never be too much for someone who is enough. Read that again. It's far, far better to bask in your lonesome than share space with someone who wants you to take up less of it.
Do not shrink. Do not make yourself small for the sake of making another person feel a sense of false comfort. That's their cross to bear, not yours. Be too much.
I like to think too much is just the right amount.
"But know this: you will be always be too much for anyone not enough. Somewhere out there is someone who'll bring pieces of you home. And you'll realize that losing everything is the only way to figure out what's worth finding."
I have, generally speaking, been too much my entire life.
I feel too much, say too much, do too much, and sometimes, I think I probably love too much. It's the double-edged sword you face when you wear your heart on your sleeve, yet desperately seek to show less emotion, to feel less.
It's not that I find this to be an inherently bad quality within myself. I think it results in a little more pain, but also more love. Sadness, but benevolence.
I was speaking with a friend the other day about what it's like to begin to date again after a breakup. I'm exactly a year out from my breakup. I was in a relationship for five years, so it took me much longer than I had planned or was prepared for to be in a comfortable place to date again. This friend had asked me how I knew it was time to start dating again after this breakup. I told them it was a feeling, an instinctive notion within me... I just knew. I had done all of the things -- I have grieved the relationship, I had gotten pissed off, I had put all my time and efforts into things that made me feel fulfilled and happy. I had become a completely different person, separate of my former relationship. I had unfriended his family members and close friends. I had felt sad, I had felt glad, I had felt everything in between. I had written and screamed and ran and danced and cried. I had tested things out, slings and arrows, highs and lows. I had grieved properly.
I knew it was time. I had been alone long enough and in an ideal enough way to know that I was ready to give some of myself to someone else. I just... knew.
Being single in New York City can often feel like the loneliest position in the entire universe. Dinners alone, movies alone, sleeping alone, everything alone. Lonesome. It can feel daunting and totally fucked and great all at once. But by my lonesome is where I've been given the miraculous gift of total and unadulterated love. I have found a love and respect for myself that I have never known previously in my life. This love is not perfect. It's not sappy quotes about being your own best friend. It's often really goddamn messy and a lot of ridiculous internal dialogue. It's still lonely. But it isn't the type of loneliness that sinks your heart to the pit of your stomach or makes you question every aspect of your existence. It's a lonely where you enjoy the quiet and your mind gets calm and stillness is accompanied by a sense of safety. Do you know what I mean? Like the quiet where your solitude doesn't feel so scary. The quiet where your heart beats a little slower and comfort seeps into your person and your own company feels like the only company you could want in that moment. This quiet used to terrify me; it used to sneak up on me and make my pulse race and make me sleep with a light on. Now it feels cozy. Comfortable. Comfortable silence.
This feeling of thinking there's "too much" within me -- too many feelings, too many thoughts, just... too much -- it has been systemically ingrained into my psyche since I was a child. Don't speak too loud, you'll scare them off. Don't have too many opinions, you'll seem arrogant. Don't laugh too hard. Don't smile too big. Don't love too hard. Don't feel too much. Don't take up too much space. Don't. Less space. Not enough. Too much.
This concept... to shrink, to do less, to be less, in a small effort to please them more... I have no other thoughts on this other than a simple and resounding "fuck that." By being comfortable with myself, and by working hard to get there, I have found through dating that there are, more often than not, people who will want you to shrink so they can feel comfortable... who don't want you to share your feelings or come on too strong or sit back or come in second to them. Listen to me, as I need the reminder just as much as I am sure a vast majority of you do... you will never be too much for someone who is enough. Read that again. It's far, far better to bask in your lonesome than share space with someone who wants you to take up less of it.
Do not shrink. Do not make yourself small for the sake of making another person feel a sense of false comfort. That's their cross to bear, not yours. Be too much.
I like to think too much is just the right amount.
"But know this: you will be always be too much for anyone not enough. Somewhere out there is someone who'll bring pieces of you home. And you'll realize that losing everything is the only way to figure out what's worth finding."
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