Starving but can't yet feed

Last weekend my best friend came to visit me.
For the first day or so, I found myself faking it a little - smiling and excited but holding back tears.
If you know me - you know that I’m pretty terrible at holding back tears lol
So why was I doing it in front of the person I trust most in the world?
She has seen me a puddle on the floor,
I don’t think I need to hide by now.

But I was.

It was such a big deal to me for her to be here.
I literally haven’t been in person with any of my closest people (other than family) in 6 months.

And I needed that time alone.
I needed to separate from LA and how I was socializing (or isolating).
I needed some time to see who I was and what I was like when I was not constantly interacting with people.
(I also blocked my parents from Instagram during this time)
I needed space from the old perception of me, so I could find where Jessie is today.

In fact this is really why I left LA. I could tell I wasn’t being fully truthful to who I was, but I had no idea how to feel that within the image I had built for myself. I needed space. I needed to be a nobody for a while. Not living up to anyone’s expectations of anything, including my own.

And after almost a year, I can feel her.
I can feel my own pulse.
I can feel the thing that I am, and let it come outward.

When I’m alone…

Or when I’m in set containers like coaching.
Or when I’m on the phone with a close friend.

But in real life?
Woof.
Not yet.
In front of my best friend - I faked it.
I went back.

This experience opened up a whole world of understanding of how I’ve been.
How I’ve blocked true connection and community by faking it.
By not opening to the truth of how I feel and who I am in order to control the moment.
In order to make sure they like me, or I’m not being too much, or I’m being a good person, or whatever.

I remember saying a few years ago how great I was at first dates.
I WAS.
Because I knew exactly how to hold myself to be what they will like. I knew how to present myself in a way that they can’t resist.

But not because I could be fully myself.

Same reason why I was such a great yoga teacher.
I knew exactly how to speak and walk and time the music so the class was perfect. (Thank you CorePower lol)

But not honest.
(Even though I spewed vulnerable shares to make it seem honest, but even that was part of the perfecting. The performing.)

So this weekend,
I saw it.
I saw the way I block the connection I deeply desire more than anything.
I button myself up, and perform.
I perform gratitude.
I perform love.
I perform affection.
I say the right things, but I am closed.
And then my true feelings build up and I feel confused and sad and frustrated that I’m not getting the love the want.

You know, being alone here in the forest, I have not felt lonely.
Not once.
Because simply being alone is not lonely.
It’s so beautiful.

But when my friend left,
Loneliness flooded in.
It’s the contrast.
It’s the knowing there is more to be had right here, and I’m not letting it in.

I was drastically more lonely in LA.
Why?
Because there were possible connections everywhere and I was closed.

Now,
As I open, I am touching this HUGE desire for love and connection and intimacy.
Not a lonely yearning.
But a true desire for closeness.
And yet,
My friend was here, and I could barely receive the very thing I desire.

So here I am,
STARVING for deep, open love.
In friendship in romance in community.
But when the nourishment is right in front of me, I can only open to a tiny bit of it.
And that’s the truth.

I am starving.
But I cannot yet feed.

I have been starving for so long, that my stomach for true love is very small. It has learned to be that way.

Just like 5 months ago when I started eating more, how there were so many moments where I was HUNGRY, but eating made me nauseous and frustrated.

I am so hungry for connection, but connecting makes me close up and perform.

And just like I did with food, it needs to be slow. I will not be fully fed tomorrow. (I’m still not fully fed with food, 5 months later).

But that gap, that gap between what I want and where I am, hurts.

It hurts to hold my biggest most vulnerable desire, up against my current reality.

It is not here.
I want it.
And it is not here.