Anxiety and Lack of imagination.
When it comes right down to it, that’s what it is.
I can’t imagine a different life.
Or maybe it’s just the people around me, who can’t imagine a different life.
My friends are making “leaving” difficult.
They are making “feeling alone” difficult.
One of the local breweries has a running club on Tuesday evenings. When a certain runner and movie buff and I were running around [not dating! and it didn’t get weird until someone else felt the need to say something to him and f it up for me. Worry about your own dating life! I have mine under control!] I showed up at the running club regularly.
I ran out of excuses to go running when he left town and then COVID hit or the other way around.
Since then I have learned that, if I realize it’s Tuesday and I feel like going running at about “run club time”, I just start putting on my shoes, jogging pants and I go there. If I think about it for an additional minute, it’s over and the inertia wins. I’m not going. But if I can get my body to the running location before my brain engages, I’m 10 minutes into a run by the time my brain catches up and we’re good. That’s what I did this time.
I ran into two friends before I ever even left the place to go running.
I ran into one old friend from the lab job - and into a brand new friend from the current job. Both count among my very favorite people and both stopped what they were doing, happy to see me.
“I thought you had left town!” the Danielle said as she saw me right as she was getting up from a whole table full of 20 year-olds. I thought I recognized the back of her head and stopped to see, if the front of the face matched the back of the head I thought I was looking at. It did. “I thought you had left town! I still follow you on Facebook”. “Yes, I was in Germany and I am just about to run away from home. What’s going on with you these days?” “I’m back in town. My son lives with me again. Life is good.” It sounded like both of us have reached crone! The place where the tormenters can just stick it - or not.
I met Danielle many years ago through a friend we have in common. Our common friend very much has it all together - very much unlike me and Danielle. I knew Danielle was one of “the others” long before I ever even exchanged any words with her. With some people, I just feel a connection - and some of those people are not psychopaths.
“I knew you’d come back” the other friend said. She’s the woman from “the others” fame [for anyone following the story - that’s the “do your boobs hang low” story]. Alyssa was here for a political fundraiser. Then she told me that she was getting ready to go to India for a while, but that she'd see me at the office in the fall.
They want me here. I am wanted here.
The new question is - do I want to be here? Is this the best place for me? I like hanging with those people.
What does this place have that other places don’t?
A lot, it turns out. This place reflects 30 years of effort at some kind of community.
…and 30 years of rejections
…and 30 years of attempts
while masking?
Was it me or was it them?