You Are Doing This Alone.

The final quarter.

October | “Can I call you?”

“I just feel so alone in this.”

And he says, “Well you are alone.”

I can let the silence hang between us on the phone without feeling awkward. I let my friend continue. “You are the only one who knows what went on in your relationship and what your experience was—not your mom, not your best friend, not even him.”

He is right and for the first time, my idea of “alone” feels less lonely. I have been lamenting over my situation and struggling with old feelings of not being believed. I felt like everyone was handling me or placating me or questioning me.

None of this is true, just the projection monster on a rampage.

There are entirely normal feelings you can experience in the aftermath of a break-up—all of which I expected and anticipated. But this is my first break-up in 7 years and now I’m 30 so everything isn’t so achey and urgent, just something I need to weather and manage.

My best friend is expecting her second child, she’s got her own life to worry about and thank God for that. I think I expected this break-up to be everyone’s center of attention because I never thought I would leave this relationship, that it would ever end so this must be scandalous and absurd.

But no, it’s not, and it’s a relief.

November | Plot Twists and Rhythms.

Jesus H. Christ, why did I do this to myself? Why did I think getting a part-time job was a good idea? Everyone is a teenager, and I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to tell people about our promotions for the day or greet them as they walk through the front door.

I stopped doing this shit years ago. I told myself, Get some extra cash for the holidays, get out of the house a couple days a week, you can handle two jobs again. Immediate regret.

I will finally warm up to my co-workers, the customers, the vibe of working at an American Eagle by my third shift. I am shocked to hear my jokes and quips with customers as I check them out, my performance coming alive as the store buzzes with too many people shopping on a Saturday morning.

I am…enjoying myself?

On November 29th, I see I have a notification from Quora: “I know this post is old but hey you may still read it.”

I often clear out my banner notifications as soon as I can. Many apps no longer send me such pop-ups (I turned most off earlier this year), but I let this one sit on my lock screen for five days.

I want to answer it.

December | Seeking Answers

Impressively, I made it through two movies last night. I haven’t watched much besides Gilmore Girls for the 87th time lately, but I watched something old and something new: Howl’s Moving Castle and Everything Everywhere All at Once.

The latter was perfectly absurd and beautifully simple. A life full of unfulfilled dreams, being so terrible at everything, makes one the perfect candidate to save the multiverse.

I have had a reoccurring theme in my dreams the past few months: I’m my current self, a full-grown adult, but I have some unmet requirements and was never supposed to get my high school diploma so I must return to school. I can’t move forwarded no matter how frustrated I become.

It was a featured storyline in my dream the other night, but the world outside was decaying, slowly encroaching on buildings and everyone was continuing on because why would the world stop if it was ending?

At some point, after volunteering to plan the Senior trip and wondering if the Atlanta Aquarium would be affected by the apocalypse, I started to question reality. I poked at it with a knife before looking at my left palm.

I heard once if you want to practice lucid dreaming, to spend time looking at your hands because hands can look weird in dreams. But my left palm was fully formed when I poked the tip of the knife into dream flesh.

No pain, just surprise, then thick red blood that poured and poured even as I held my hand to stop the bleeding. Once I let it the wound flow freely, it stopped.

A psychologist would have a field day with me.

It’s human to look for answers, for an explanation for things that have no satisfying logic or rationality. To try and interpret dreams, to ask a psychic or several to read your future, to beg your oldest friend to give it to you straight.

About five years ago, I answered a question on Quora, “Why can’t psychics get a read on me?”

My response is very 2019 of me. You probably wouldn’t know, but I was very informed on these matters. And apparently a regularly viewed response on this matter in particular (damn girl, look at those 10.7K views you got there).

So colored me intrigued when I saw a response to my aged digital text:

TLDR: They want to believe but they can’t shake the unsettling ick from seeking out something from psychics.

I’ll leave you here with my response. Maybe not exactly the one asked for, but the one given as purely as possible in the moment I could give it. The medicine I need to swallow:

You know what's funny, I was just having a day of being angry at God/Source/Universe, begging for help and asking "why me." | often find myself in seasons when I feel like l'm spinning in circles looking for answers or clarity, the desperation I feel is embarrassing.

A week ago, I was visiting with a friend of mine who is incredibly gifted in mediumship and I shared with her a doozy of a "plot twist" in my love life. After we spoke, she started pulling out her cards because she usually does readings for me but I said "I don't need one this time." Not because I wouldn't love answers or to have what I suspect to be true confirmed, but because l've learned by now when I'm not satisfied by "answers" or guidance. The answers, no matter how true or honest or clearly not for me, don't taste right when the desperation is present. Nothing will satisfy me, and in times like that, I am simply avoiding the discomfort and avoiding walking through it to the other side.

I changed my personal practice many years ago, now my only practice of late are Morning Pages (The Artist's Way) which while I don't do every morning, it has been the most consistent practice l've kept at in a long, long time. Even with this tool, my strongest connection, I don't get answers and truths served to me. In fact, I haven't gotten that at all lately.

Maybe I've exhausted myself of future-casting, feeling out into the tomorrows for a vibe or an idea of what I'm aiming for or what's coming my way. I don't think I'll feel that forever, but for now, I'm just letting it play out, whatever it is.

I don't know what you are going through, I don't know these psychics you paid a visit to, I don't know what you need to hear or what will help you. But what I do know is the hardest medicine to swallow is usually something you already know and the discomfort of being a human generally won't kill you even if it makes you want to curl up in a ball and decay into the earth.

Where I stand now when it comes to something like a tarot reading or a psychic message or an intuitive nudge, if it is meant for you, it won't make you feel confused. Confusion comes from seeking too much from the external, to try and change what you already know deep down. And if you feel like your brain is empty and you can't see 3 feet in front of you, that's just where you are for now.

I don't think anyone needs to use any religious labels or metaphysical language to justify or explain their relationship to the Universe around us, you don't even need that for yourself to believe in something, The Something.

I hope you feel better soon, I hope you feel clear and confident in what you do next, even if it's just what you'll buy from the grocery store to cook for dinner. I hope you can relax into yourself and let whatever discomfort or grief you are carry walk with you until it finally lets go of your hand.