Cupid and (the) Psyche

In the process of penning my “love letters,” I’ve come to a few conclusions. I’ve realized I also have difficulty with emotional availability. Maybe I knew this on some level already, but it seems more obvious now. At least, it seems a recurring theme in my romantic life. My friends, and sometimes my family, get access to all the messy feels, maybe more so than they would prefer.

I’ve chosen partners or pseudo-partners who maybe did challenge that aspect of myself to a point but who would never ask me to be 100% present as my truest self.

Either they weren’t interested in a full-fledged relationship, or they had some difficulty or other within themselves that prevented a stronger connection. Or both.

I’ve also pondered that sometimes there are nuggets of insight to be found in the rambling thoughts you have when you’re just a step to the left of consensual reality, in one sense or other. Some of it is just gibberish, to be sure, but not all of it.

My superstitious side sometimes meshes with my mental health issues and has me seeing portents in all sorts of random bits and pieces. There are times, though, that this “craziness” leads me to valuable discovery.

I think the key is to remember that you’re making meaning from apparent chaos, that you are an active component in the process. Maybe the Universe has messages to deliver, maybe not, but the choices you make about how you perceive your surroundings are on you.

At least, that’s part of how I stay grounded. That, and the humility I gain when confronted with the day-to-day tasks of life. Housekeeping, grooming, self-care.

I’ve had the itch recently, once again, to gaze into the cosmos and see what lies beyond. Just the other day, someone handed me an item that had a key phrase on it, once spoken to me by a former partner, now deceased, on the night we first met.

I had already been feeling a little out of my body and surreal, and that was definitely enough reinforcement to feel like “a sign,” at the time. In conjunction with the rest of the random stimuli I’d been pondering, it seemed like an indication to avoid past mistakes, and possibly past partners, as well.

I’d like to think I’m trying my best, but I’ve also been sheltering and isolating myself pretty hardcore. You can only make so much progress on relating, when you’re limiting your interactions to a bare minimum.

It’s something to think about, and work on.

Meanwhile, I’m thankful for everyone who has stuck by me to this point, and even to those who have not, for whatever reason. Even passing connections can be impactful, long after they’re over.