I’ve realized lately that I’m lonely. That sounds obvious now, but it wasn’t. I think I had just gotten used to certain things and stopped noticing what I was missing.
Then I experienced connection that felt easy and steady, and suddenly I thought: Oh. I’ve been missing this.
Naturally, I proceeded to analyze the hell out of why it mattered so much. But maybe the answer is simpler. Maybe I need more connection in my life.
More people. More pottery. More writing. More long walks. More Lake Michigan. More uncomfortable doorways I walk through anyway. More things on my calendar that I’m genuinely excited about. Not to keep myself busy. To live.
I don’t want to stop needing people or stop missing the people I love. I just don’t want someone else’s availability to determine whether my own life feels full. I can miss someone and still have a really good day. I can wish someone were here and still enjoy where I am. I can love people deeply without waiting for them to make my life happen.
So maybe that’s what I’m building now. Not less attachment. Not more distraction. More of my own life.
Because it’s already happening. And I don’t want to miss it.