I look at the relationships in my life and see which ones have failed and which ones have lasted and I believe I can pinpoint the problems all stemming from either a strong or weak connection of the mind and soul, and on some levels even the body. I have some friends whose words, inspirations, and actions touch my very soul. They’re absolutely beautiful to me because of this link. When I see their faces pop up on my phone it isn’t a pair of eyes, a set of dimples, or a crazy-ass smile I see – it’s wisdom, knowledge, awe, respect, admiration, integrity, compassion, excellence, truth, trust, and deep love. They’re beautiful to me. I often call them beautiful, but I have no idea if they even understand what I’m saying. I also have no idea what they see when my face pops up on their phones. I very seriously doubt it’s anything similar.
I’ve always felt physically disconnected. Always. I rarely allow people to touch me, because that requires connection, it requires trust. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t flip out if someone touches me, I just don’t initiate or put myself in a position to be touched if it can be avoided. Only a few times have I ever felt comfortable enough to where it seemed natural to touch. Most of the time people interpret my reaction as disinterest or lack of attraction on my part – which would often be wrong. But, in contradiction to that reaction and protection, I crave connection and I crave touch most of all. Yet, I’ve set up my life where I go weeks, even months, where I am not touched by another human being at all. Almost on a daily basis my soul is enriched through the intellectual, psychological, and emotional connections I have with my friends (who are all far away from me and some have never touched me), yet there is no physical interaction.
As most of you know, I’ve tried to enter the dating world. Can you imagine how that’s working out for someone who seeks those same type of connections I have with my friends and then add a physical connection (from someone who fears touch) to the mix? Not very well. I think I’m actually going to put it away for a while, because frankly I’m just exhausted. I don’t understand the world. I don’t understand what people want.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, says they’re not looking for perfection, but they’re all liars. We’re all looking for the fantasy we fell in love with in our minds and when the people in front of us don’t live up to that fantasy, instead of changing the fantasy we change the person. Perhaps because I’m a writer and know how to change the plot, change the scenery, and even change the main characters – I meet people with an open-mind and an ability to rewrite my fantasy – creating one around the person in front of me. But how can I expect them to be able to do the same? The sad part - I don’t. I expect them to find the flaw that changes everything, destroys the fantasy, severs the connection, be the reason that gives them the excuse they need, and then watch them walk away.
People say one thing, but their actions say another. I meet men who say they’re looking for that deep connection, for a woman that will stir their minds and imaginations as well as their bodies, but they can’t dig further than skin deep, going from pretty face to pretty face, beautiful body to beautiful body, waiting for lightning to strike, but dancing on a clear sunny day. They’ve got no idea why they haven’t found “the one” yet. If you want lighting - you have to dance in the storm. You have to be willing to withstand the wind, the rain, and the thunder, but most of all days with no sunshine. Who wants to deal with all that, really? This is how I’m disconnected. While I love the sunshine, I feel most alive in the storm. I’m looking for that person who stirs my soul, irritates the hell out of me because they push my buttons and refuse to let me wallow in deception, self-denial, and inside a comfort zone, making me a better person and come to a better understanding. Yet those are often the very reasons why I’m never ‘the one’. Who wants complicated? Isn’t life complicated enough?
I’m about to celebrate my 43rd birthday. At this moment I’m tracing a small scar on my chest where a needle of adrenaline was shoved into my heart when I was 22 to get it back started and regain a connection with life. While I’m having the most amazing adventures, I’m doing them all alone because I can’t seem to make a connection, or perhaps just the right connection. I place my hand flat on my chest and can feel the familiar thump and wonder why I’m still here. For what purpose was I saved? I used to think there was a reason I survived, twice, really more than that if you count all the near-death experiences. I once believed I would somehow make a difference in this world. I thought I was special. I thought I was set apart for some great mission.
The truth is - I make no difference and I’m no different than anyone else. The world doesn’t need me and will continue to turn without me when I’m gone. I faced my mortality a long time ago. I’m not talking about feeling or believing I’m worthless. I’m very precious and valuable. I’m a mother. I’m a contributing member of society. I have self-esteem and believe in my abilities and talents. I’m not depressed. I was once needed by my children and by family before that. I’m not needed by anyone now, and that’s not a bad thing. I also don’t need anyone else. I love many people, my friends, my children – but I don’t need them. I go day by day, week by week, month by month taking care of myself, living my life often with only a text here, an email there, a call every once in a while – a connection of the heart and soul - and I love them for it. But, there’s no one to touch me, to hold me, to wrap their arms around me and tell me everything is going to be okay – there’s a lost connection – one I’ve never been able to make and seriously doubt I ever will.
Please don’t inundate me with emails or messages and tell me my time will come and that there’s someone out there for me I just haven’t met them yet. I was also told … Mothers love their children. Fathers love their daughters. Brothers love their sisters. Husbands love their wives. Sometimes there are just broken receptors.
Till next time