Space

One of the biggest indicators that I haven’t been feeling like myself or haven’t been at my best is long lapses in my writing. At this point, I haven’t written since December. I thought having time to myself throughout the pandemic would mean I would write more. I didn’t think I would end up feeling so out of touch with myself that I would forget about writing, which has been one of my passions and a part of who I am for two decades.

Two of my friends, on separate occasions from different friend groups, recently pointed out to me that I haven’t been responsive the past few months (and at this point, “a few” has grown into probably six) and they tried to say they understood, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but hear an undertone of, “You could still answer your texts” or “Why are you being like this?” The first time I heard it, I was a bit upset and offended. The second time I heard it from someone else, I felt sad. I began to critique myself. Neither of them was wrong–I haven’t been responsive and I know it.

Am I being selfish?

I asked myself that over and over. I have no clue what’s going on in most of my friends’ lives anymore. I see their social media posts that pique my interest, but I can’t deal with commenting or DMing because I’m afraid to start a conversation. There is simultaneously nothing at all and everything all at the same time to talk about, and getting into any of it will likely make me feel things I don’t want to feel: guilt for not knowing about something that’s been going on in their lives, anxiety about explaining why I haven’t been responsive and describing what I’ve been up to, obligation to help them through something when I haven’t even been able to help myself. There’s a lot of “I”s in this paragraph, which on a surface level might answer, “Yes, you are being selfish.”

I’ve tried to talk myself into connecting with others like I used to when the pandemic first started, when I had more mental and emotional capacity. But the very thing is, I don’t have mental or emotional capacity. How am I supposed to be able to be immediately present for everyone when I can’t even be present for myself? I last talked about doing the inner work and putting on your own oxygen mask before helping others. And this still stands. While many times I have critiqued myself for being a terrible friend and not checking in with the people I say I care about, I’ve finally come to realize:

I need me, too.

I used to hate being alone because I was afraid of being lonely, so I focused most of my time and effort with and on other people. It was so natural and so easy. Then I transitioned into spending time by myself, for myself, and I came to love it. I thought “quarantine” would be a great opportunity for me to continue doing that, but in doing so, I have come to see how much unease and unrest lie within me, even as I spend most of my time sitting at home, working and doing not terribly much else. I don’t know how to resolve any of it, and this isn’t an ask for anyone’s help. But it is an ask that we all be truly understanding and empathetic, because sometimes people just need space and nobody needs to be made to feel like a bad friend or bad person for trying to do their inner work.