Flying Solo

Herself speaks.

There are times when it's clear to me that all of my Important People are up to their eyeballs in Things, and do not have the wherewithal to listen to, or inquire after, me. In those times, I simultaneously want to help them in any way I can (because I love them and don't want them to be overburdened), and want to run away from them (because I myself feel like a burden). 

For example: there may be things in my head that I want to talk about, or current events that are burningly annoying/terrible and warrant discussion. Or I might be having a moment or something is bothering me, or I feel invisible, and I would like nothing more than for someone to ask, "how are you?" Yet my efforts to initiate a conversation don't yield a satisfactory dialog, or there is silence, or there is just enough response to indicate that the person is so immersed in their own morass that it's clear I should not try to continue to elicit anything more. 

What can I do? I cannot will people to devote brain space to inquiring after my wellbeing if they simply don't have the bandwidth. I cannot dig them out of their own bogs. I cannot (will not) provide both sides of the conversation (I talk to myself enough already).  

Eventually, I'm embarrassed that I've tried to initiate a conversation in the first place. I feel needy, ashamed for wanting a listening ear, burdensome. And I want to run away. 

It's hard to convince myself that I am entitled to take up space in the world. 

There is nothing wrong with wanting reassurance, care, a little bit of Love. I freely and willingly give these things to other people -- why is it so difficult to acknowledge that I, too, would like these things? 

I am allowed to ask for what I need (recognizing, always, that asking may yield "no"). Why do I feel like even asking has too high a price? Am I merely avoiding vulnerability by trying to convince myself that I should be able to do All The Things by myself? 

Once upon a time, when I first joined the taekwondo gym and found myself a group of friends, I was so delighted to be freed from the isolation in which I had lived so long as a telecommuter/stay-at-home mom. It was so beautiful to have a group of nearby friends. I thought I might have unlocked the mystery of  People. 

I was mistaken, though. 

Time has passed.  Though I now work in an office, I do not talk meaningfully to (m)any people on a daily basis (though if Beloved Husband is not too busy with work, I may be able to sneak in a conversation with him when he gets back from the gym at 10 PM). The Offspring have all grown and moved out. My one true Friend from the taekwondo gym has moved Oceanside. 

The isolation of the beforetimes has been resurrected. 

I need to Try Again. 

I do not want to Try Again. 

But I know I must. 

For now, though, I shall fly primarily Solo.