Believe it or not, I used to be a hermit. I have to go really far back to remember the last time that was true. I remember the exact day even–I was a latch key kid and living in an apartment in New York City. It was sometime between 4 and 6pm and I could hear kids playing in the park across the street and cars moving back and forth on the street below. I remember not being interested in anything that was going on outside because inside the apartment was me and my baseball cards. I used to set them up, putting players in their natural positions and making a game of it. This was expected of a boy who could walk out on his terrace and see Yankee Stadium. I remember thinking how good life was and how content I felt just being in that space alone. I might have been fifteen.
I fell in love shortly after that, and became quickly acquainted with what it meant to be a part of something. That feeling of belonging presented a sharp contrast to the wholeness I felt previously and, honestly, made me feel like the wholeness was a lie.
It wasn’t. I’ve taken a very long time to recognize that. It is possible to feel whole and happy completely within yourself. That feeling of being connected that comes as a result of sharing a life with someone is powerful and fulfilling, but it isn’t entirely necessary. I know there was a time I felt whole within myself and I know that in the spaces between love I often filled the connection void with friendships. Still there was a time when I was all that I needed and that was more than okay.
Some Thoughts:
- The numbering system is beginning to look more and more like star dates.