Connections

People change me. I am so ready to be changed. It is not a failure or a flaw. It is not a sign that I waffle easily, that I am unsure of who I am and what I want. Instead, I know it to be the natural course of my life. There is always another way to do things. How do I know I’m doing it right? How do I know that I look best in blue? Why would I think that my answers are correct?

I look for help. I look for reassurance. I look for change. And most of all, I look for connections. To feel something. With you. With people. Persons. Other women. Moments of benign banter. Moments of deep sorrow. Moments of full, true, unadulterated laughter.

I ache for, long for, look for, connections in my life. More. Different. Better. I give myself away. Freely. Happily. Openly. I feel it is the only true way to bring more life into your life. To open yourself up to others and let them know you are that person. The one who will say exactly what she thinks without being obstinate or obtrusive. That will listen intensely with a desire to make you feel nothing less than accepted and understood in every way. That completely acknowledges that stepping over the edge the way I do is not always welcome. That crosses her fingers that she can help to break barriers and boundaries, for both of us, by indeed stepping over the edge.

I’m only 31. There are so many reasons for “me” in my life. So many uses. So many purposes of my existence. But I feel that I am limitless. I know that I am nowhere near maximum outreach.

As a mother, I give my hundred percent – knowing that today’s hundred may not match up to tomorrow’s. It’s circumstantial. And I’m okay with this. As a friend, lover, sister, daughter and writer I am constantly striving for more. Deeper, longer, better connections to the people whom I love. To the words that I craft. But it is the people that I do not yet know that I focus on today. I want more. I want to feel heard. I want to hear. This is universal. And for me, I need to find a way to make this happen. I am so far from empty but nowhere near full. My capacity grows daily. There is room for more. Words. People. Friends. Connections. Love. Laughter. Light.

What I most rely on to bring more connections to life is my desire for honesty. I don’t want to hide. I did that for 20 years. I hid behind lies, friendships, sex, drugs, sadness. Oh the drugs. The escape. The desperate escape from a person I knew that I could become if I only knew how. If I only knew that I just had to do the living.

My three children. (stop) They brought me to life. (stop) They forced a me in me that I wasn’t sure I would ever see. (stop) I am forever changed. (stop) But it shouldn’t end here. With motherhood. With status quo. With marriage and suburbia and home repair and soccer games and social media. There’s more to all of it.

I need connections in my life. I crave, wish for, desire in every way to feel connected. To people. On the street and through this blog and in my heart. The only thing I really truly know for sure is this:

Everything I know about everything else is based on these connections. The ones I have, the ones I’ve lost, the ones I’m barely holding on to, and the ones that have yet to form.

I know I sound dreamy and idealistic. I know that I weave my words together looking for just the right amount of drama to portray. The right blend of poetry and realism. We all do this. We feel we must. To get someone to pay attention. Because we need people to pay attention. We want so badly to find new connections, keep old ones, and plant the seeds for more. And more. And more.

I’m not finished. But I’m stopping here. Tomorrow I will find more words. This thought is so much bigger than I am, and woven into every facet of my being. There would be no reason for these words if not for connections. For love. For labor. For smiles. For tears. Motherhood has expanded my capacity to recognize what has always been right in front of me. I am here for you.