I had a conversation with a friend of mine last night about such things, and she echoed my sentiments in many ways. We both went through times where we were with people for a while but knew in the backs of our minds that it wasn't going to be "it". And even though the companionship and comfort was there, it wasn't enough. My most recent real relationship ended for this reason. And although I'm happy with my decision to move on, I still often crave the companionship of someone. In small moments, weaker moments, it feels as though anyone will do. But I know me well enough to know that it's just a temporary solution (a scratched itch) to something buried much further in the recesses of who I am. I often crave the attention and companionship of others. I often seek out such connections, and with my closest friends I hide little and reveal much. But friendship can only go so far, especially at the age I'm at. With every calendar year, another marriage takes place, another apartment is packed up and transplanted in another part of the country or world, and another soul returns to the place from whence it came. Although these things don't take away the experiences that have been had, they often change or take away what could be. So like building a house on sand, things shift and become unstable. And so here I stand. Nothing but my shadow beside me.
A few people that have met me since my divorce (and even since my recent break-up) have asked me if I regretted anything about these relationships and how they ended or what happened in the pain/frustration of their wake. And my response continues to be the same: no. And I try to think about my life in general and I really have few things I regret. I've said foolish things in my past where some people have been offended or hurt, and there have been nights that I wish I hadn't indulged in that final whiskey, but I have few decisions I actually regret. Regret implies that you wish they wouldn't have happened. And even in the most brutal, shame- or rage-filled events of my past, I've always taken something away from it. Sure, I've thought about how I could've done things differently or reacted in another way to various things, but I continue to find these moments being the moments where I learn the most about myself (and sometimes about those around me as well). When I finally took off my wedding ring for the last time, I knew I was making the right decision for me, no matter how broken I felt. And as I said goodbye to the last companion, I likewise knew that it was necessary and I hadn't found what I was looking for quite yet.
I think that the time over this past week of holidays reinforced these sentiments a lot for me. I traveled south to Shanghai on my own, knowing that few familiar faces would be around and knowing that I'd have a lot of time living in my own head. It's definitely something I sought out and pursued, so it's not something I feel any sort of resentment toward. But this self-isolation doesn't cease to bring up the same feelings... that being able to share your experiences and your life with another person is something valuable. And it's something that I continue to seek. It's not a desperate need or a anxiety-inducing hope. It's just something that lingers in the silent moments, in foggy days, in glasses of wine or in the glance of a stranger.
The picture below is from my trip to Borneo and Mount Kinabalu. Seemed to fit. Until again...
T
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