Sometimes I think a lot about space

There’s a lot of kinds of space – physical space, emotional space, global space, outer space…

Starting with physical space – I don’t like people being close to me. I’m not a hugger. I get anxious when people are in my bubble. Mike is one of the very few people I’m comfortable letting physically close to me. It can be hard, my family is a very in-your-space group of people. My mother insists of giving hugs and kisses whenever you leave. I hate it. I hate every second of it. I don’t want to do it. But I know if I say something it’s going to open a bag of worms that I want to deal with even less. So I skirt aside when I can, and take one for the team when I can’t. Luckily for me, most of my friends either know this about me or aren’t touchy people themselves so everything works out.

Don’t get me wrong, I can, and will, hug people if the situation warrants – weddings, funerals, people getting bad news or going through a tough time, friends moving thousands of miles away, etc. A kid at work that I’m probably closer to than most of the others (hell, he’s been at my house) went through a rough breakup a few months ago, and he and I hugged it out one night after he poured his heart out.

Emotional space is another area where… I don’t know if I have problems, but I’m not good with this. I keep people at arm’s length, don’t let people get close. With the exception of a few really close friends, I don’t let people in. I have more than a few friendships where all we talk about is work (if we work at the same company), or our jobs. Nothing personal is shared. A few other friends we chat about similar interests, but again, nothing really personal. I don’t know how to have close relationships with people.

Outer space… sometimes I find myself thinking about our place, my place, in the universe. I sit outside and look at the stars and look at the specs in the sky and how far they are. I mean… the universe is so vast. I don’t know. I guess I wonder if I’ve held myself back. If the decisions I’ve made, the things that I’ve done, hell even the mental illnesses I have, have held me back from reaching some other potential. There’s a villain in Doctor Who, the Weeping Angels. Quick background: they’re statues of angels. If someone is looking at them, they don’t move, if no one is, they do. But if they touch you, they send you back to a random moment in time, and the feed off of the energy of the days that would have been. I wonder if something isn’t feeding off of my days that would have been. Had I not been in the car accident my senior year of high school and was able to go to one of the schools that I really wanted to rather than the local state university (that I didn’t even finish). If I had picked another major when I finally did go back to school. If Mike and I had broken up years ago. If I had done any of the thousand things I had wanted to at one point or another. I don’t know anymore.

I need a new job, I need to get back onto my feet. I need to fight down this lingering depression. I need to get my anxiety under control. I need to do a lot of things. But I need a break, a chance. I don’t know what I need, but I need something.

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