Maybe We Don’t Need to Know Where This Is Going Yet

I’ve been thinking about closeness lately.

Not the obvious kind.

Not sitting beside somebody.

Not seeing them every morning.

Not having their hand within reach whenever you want it.

I mean the kind of closeness that exists even when life puts space between two people.

And I think I’m finally learning how difficult it can be to actually trust that kind of closeness.

Because when somebody isn’t physically there, your mind has sooo much room to start talking.

And apparently mine has a podcast.

With multiple episodes.

No commercial breaks. 😭

Is this enough?

Are we really as close as I think we are?

What exactly is this?

Where is it going?

When will things change?

What if they don’t?

And suddenly something that felt beautiful five minutes ago starts feeling like a problem that needs to be solved.

Sometimes We Question Things Until We Stop Feeling Them

I think uncertainty can make us do something really strange.

Instead of experiencing what’s happening, we start standing outside of it analyzing it.

Is this real enough?

Is this serious enough?

Are we talking enough?

Do they miss me as much as I miss them?

Is this what our relationship is always going to look like?

And those questions aren’t necessarily wrong.

Sometimes they matter.

But if you ask them constantly, something happens.

You stop experiencing the person.

You start experiencing your thoughts about the person.

And those are not always the same thing.

The spark starts disappearing underneath evaluation.

The excitement gets replaced by urgency.

Something warm begins feeling heavy because suddenly it needs a destination, a timeline and a five-step action plan before we’re allowed to enjoy it.

And I’ve realized I don’t want to love like that.

I’ve Never Really Been a Planner

Which is probably shocking to absolutely nobody who knows me. 😂

I have ideas.

Dreams.

Things I want.

Approximately seven hundred tabs open in my brain at any given moment.

But rigid plans?

Those have always been harder for me.

And I think part of that comes from knowing what it feels like to be on the other end of a promise that didn’t happen.

Someone tells you what you’re going to do together.

Where you’ll go.

What things will look like.

When something will happen.

And you let yourself build a little home inside that future.

Then life changes.

Plans change.

People change.

Something happens.

And suddenly you’re grieving something that technically never even existed.

That hurts in such a specific way.

So maybe part of me learned:

Don’t build too much around tomorrow.

Because tomorrow can move.

That Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Believe in the Future

I do.

God, I have so many things I hope I get to experience.

Places I want to go.

People I want beside me.

Versions of my life that make me smile just imagining them.

But I’m learning the difference between hoping for a future and needing the future to prove that what I have right now matters.

Those are very different things.

Maybe we’ll be somewhere completely different a year from now.

Maybe life will look exactly the same.

Maybe somebody who matters enormously to me today will still be there decades from now.

Maybe they won’t.

That’s scary to say.

But it’s true.

We don’t get guarantees with people.

We don’t even get guarantees with ourselves.

And pretending otherwise doesn’t make life safer.

It just makes us spend a lot of today worrying about whether we’ll still have it tomorrow.

Distance Can Feel Different When You Stop Fighting It

Sometimes closeness doesn’t announce itself dramatically.

Sometimes it sneaks up on you.

You notice you’ve started telling someone the stupid little things.

Something happens and they’re the person you immediately want to tell.

You hear their voice and your body relaxes before your brain even registers why.

You see something they’d like.

You remember something they said weeks ago.

You start carrying tiny pieces of somebody through your everyday life.

And eventually the distance doesn’t disappear exactly.

You just begin to feel them through it.

I think that’s beautiful.

Someone can be hundreds or thousands of miles away and still somehow exist in the fabric of your day.

That’s closeness too.

Maybe we shouldn’t dismiss it simply because we can’t reach out and touch it.

The Noise Is Usually Louder Than the Truth

My brain loves urgency.

Figure it out.

Define it.

Protect yourself.

Know what’s happening.

Know what’s next.

Know how it ends.

Girl, I barely know what I’m eating tonight. 😭

Maybe everything doesn’t need to be resolved the second uncertainty appears.

Sometimes the healthiest thing I can do is ask:

What is actually true right now?

Not what am I afraid will happen.

Not what happened to me before.

Not what somebody else thinks relationships are supposed to look like.

Right now.

Is this person showing up?

Do I feel cared for?

Do I care for them?

Does this connection add something meaningful to my life?

Is there honesty?

Is there warmth?

Is there something here worth experiencing?

Then maybe I don’t need to interrogate it until it confesses its entire future.

We Are Here Right Now

That’s the part I keep coming back to.

Our lives are so precious.

And fragile.

And weirdly unpredictable.

We make plans because planning gives us comfort.

We imagine next month.

Next year.

Someday.

And hopefully we get those days.

Hopefully we get a ridiculous number of them.

But we don’t actually live in someday.

We live here.

This conversation.

This morning.

This laugh.

This person.

This version of ourselves.

Right now.

Maybe we will.

Maybe we won’t.

Maybe the thing we’re terrified of losing will stay longer than we ever imagined.

Maybe life will take us somewhere completely unexpected.

We cannot control every ending.

And I’m starting to think constantly preparing for an ending is a really shitty way to experience a beginning.

I Want to Let Good Things Be Good

Without immediately asking them to prove themselves.

Without forcing a beautiful connection into a timeline because uncertainty makes me uncomfortable.

Without turning distance into evidence that something is missing.

Without allowing yesterday’s disappointments to write tomorrow’s story before tomorrow even gets here.

That doesn’t mean ignoring reality.

It doesn’t mean abandoning standards.

It doesn’t mean staying somewhere that consistently hurts you and calling it “living in the moment.”

Please.

We still have brains. 😂

It just means understanding that not every unanswered question is an emergency.

Sometimes two people are simply experiencing something meaningful together.

Maybe the relationship will change.

Maybe the distance will change.

Maybe circumstances will change.

When they do, we’ll meet that version of life then.

But this version?

It deserves to be lived too.

So I’m trying to listen less to the noise that constantly asks me where everything is going.

And pay more attention to the quieter voice saying:

Look what you have right now.

Feel it.

Let somebody matter.

Let yourself matter to them.

Let closeness exist in whatever shape it has today.

Because none of us really knows how much time we’re going to get with anyone.

And maybe that isn’t a reason to be afraid.

Maybe it’s the reason to stop rushing through the present trying to reach a future that isn’t here yet.

We’re here.

They’re here.

This is happening.

For today, maybe that’s enough.

Maybe it’s more than enough.

xoxo,
Alexus Rae ♡