an unfamiliar comfort

Today, I am feeling. It is like any other day, except that my feelings are unfamiliar to me. They are less overwhelming than usual but also less clearly understood.

My past relationships were filled with passion, but passion can become overwhelming. Passion clouds your judgment. It feels good in the moment, as though it will never end, and yet your gut tells you that passion like this will soon again dissipate and disintegrate from the flood of emotions that come with the territory of passionate relationships. Passion is a connection that is not strong enough to last.

My past relationships were fun. They were comfortable. But I've come to realize that I am no longer okay with simply being comfortable. I need much more than comfort. I need to be independent, to take care of my body, my soul, my thoughts, and I need to be the one to walk the paths that I choose to follow. I can light my own path, now. I can be comfortable in my own skin without getting lost in the comfort of someone else's arms. I can. Sounds simple, right?

Do I miss you? Do I miss that unhealthy, codependent, clingy, stuffy comfort that you so generously offered? Perhaps, I do: when I'm feeling lonely on a cold, dark night; when I'm teary-eyed and nostalgic; when I'm longing for some sort of connection. It's during these moments when I am most vulnerable. Yet I have learned that this vulnerability, if allowed to linger for just a little longer, allows me to discover, uncover, and unravel parts of myself that I do not recognize.

I am feeling a sense of unfamiliarity today because I do not know this piece of myself. In my vulnerable loneliness, I seem to have found a part of me that is untouched, unapproached. When I first discovered this part of me, it was cold yet humid, perspiring in condensation. The casing held something cold, yet the casing was kept in a furnace of unraveling, overwhelming emotions. Standing next to this object was uncomfortable. The casing was unsightly.

What lay within the casing had never been uncovered because I had avoided being in its presence for so many days, months, years. I thought passion was enough to keep this casing and what it contained hidden in the depths of my soul. The object had grown cold, dying from lack of nourishment. I kept myself busy with bustling everyday events and daily hassles. They were what I thought to be important. I had to attend to my obligations, to the many social images I was upholding.

I was disconnected from this unknown, unsightly, unyielding piece of me. Why approach it when I felt such discomfort every time I was near?

But it kept calling my name, softly, at first. This encapsulated piece of me had whispered my name so delicately that I thought it to be the soft, warm outdoor breeze stroking my cheeks. The breeze was comforting. Streaming across my cheeks, it reminded me that I was alive. And yet, in my aliveness, I felt a pang of sharpness in my chest. Sharp for a moment, imperceptible the next. I had never felt this kind of pain.

The days went on and the breeze grew stronger. The breeze grew strong until it was no longer delicate and soft; it was dust and dirt searing my skin; it was forceful and frightening in its appearance. The pain in my chest spread to the other parts of my body, to my stomach, my arms, my fingers, my toes, my lips, my eyes. I felt disconnected from my body. My body had disconnected itself from my thoughts and emotions so that it could remain intact. This change in me would not come easy.

The unsightly casing cracked open, and the cool, blinding light from within was again something I had never experienced. I could sense the many words, images, symbols, thoughts, feelings I had repressed for so long gnaw at my inner core. I was aware of the pain they were causing me; yet my body felt no pain, my body was numb.

I needed to rediscover this part of myself that I had long turned my back to. I had to listen, I had to look, and I had to taste. I needed to come to terms with myself. It was time to accept myself for who I truly was.

This adventurous path, I had to travel on my own. There is no comfort from others here. You must learn to comfort yourself first. There is just you.