Impulsivity

So.  I didn't have any intention of writing again so soon.  Not that there's anything wrong with writing whenever I damn well feel like it.  To be fair, the outpouring of steadfast support from anyone who read the first post was nothing short of remarkable.  In summation, if you read it and you felt a little less alone in your journey, then know you're in good company.  There are more of us out there on the self-discovery struggle bus than any might realize.  Maybe the real secret to being an adult is that we're all high-functioning balls of anxiety riddled with self-doubt.

But, I digress.

Tonight I got some news that shook me.  Now, I am going to be deliberately vague and not discuss the news itself, mostly because it isn't my news to tell and the critical part of this story is how I acted.  It's probably needless to say that this news brought a sudden focus to the very nature of what I have been struggling with: my own loneliness.

What I did after I got off the phone is what merits some discussion here.  I called...him.  After months of self-control and countless hours of debating the ethical merits of reopening that bag of worms, I said a big old proverbial "FUCK IT" and dialed.

---ring---

---ring---

---ring---

voicemail

I left what I can only consider to be the lamest voicemail in history, straining my voice to sound casual and funny, mortified that I, in reality, sounded as terrified as I felt.  After I shakily clicked the red button, thereby turning over all control to AT&T and the eight pound Baby Jesus, I waited, certain he would be calling me right back.  After all, he was probably just in the other room.

I waited an hour.  He was probably at some sort of social gathering.

I waited another hour.  He was probably exhausted from a long day and passed out early.

I've waited now three hours.  He probably doesn't want to talk to me.

And now I'm likely not going to sleep tonight as I feel the throes of anxiety mounting along their battlefronts ready for a long siege against a good night's sleep.  Why?  Because now I'm just mad.  Had I just let my upsetting news just UPSET me, as it was allowed to do, then that alone would be the issue.  I still may have lost some sleep tonight, but it'd be less of my own doing.  I just HAD to use this as an opportunity to do something I have KNOWN for ages would be a terrible idea.

The real question is, why would anyone compound distress with more distress?  I had no empirical evidence that he wanted to talk to me, nor that we would have had a great conversation given that I was clearly upset at something else.  Sure, he did text me a month ago and we had a lighthearted chat about pleasantries and haven't spoken since.  Sure, that 30 minute text exchange then went on to subsume hours of my life debating his level of interest and whether I should make any move to reinitiate contact in return.

It's amazing how in the turn of a moment all of your hard work and effort can seemingly evaporate.

Well, now's the time when I need to be fair to myself.  I called him because, in that moment of discomfort, I wanted more than anything to know he still cared.  Equating that he cared would then, in turn, abate the sting of that other situation that reminded me of just how damn lonely I feel.  I know this sounds maudlin, believe me, I know.  But you have to understand that HIS validation in that moment would have been "better" than anyone else's.

But at the crux of this is the missing link: what about how I validate myself?  If I had taken the time to process that distressing phone call, I would have realized that it wasn't so terrible to begin with.  In thinking about that call and its contents, I have found several key tenets of my own solitary life that I enjoy.  For example:

• I love that I can watch whatever I want on TV (like non-stop Star Trek Voyager since March).
• I love that I currently have six boxes of breakfast cereal open and I can eat it in whatever order I want for whatever meal I want.
• I love that I currently have a pair of shoes in every room of my apartment because that's where I took them off and I don't have to move them.
• I love that I pay for this apartment all on my own and I know exactly how much money I have in my checking account (it ain't much).
• I love that I never thought I could make it on my own and yet here I am.

Not too shabby, huh?  You liked the part about the breakfast cereal.  I did too and I regret I didn't have anything else as pithy to share.

So now that I've typed this all out, I think the moral of tonight is to be mindful of impulse.  Impulse is a difficult tenet to master, as it can be helpful in many situations where the stakes are high and a decision needs made (i.e. like every minute of my job).  But, in situations like tonight, impulse was a false indicator of need; it was a bastard to who lied to me about what was necessary and true.  Bad impulses usually presuppose an irrational emotional response to an already difficult situation.

I gave into an impulse that I have been fighting for months because something unexpected lowered my defenses.  

Hell, when you put it like that, that doesn't seem so terrible, does it?  It was no crime to want to speak to him, it is simply counter-productive and not necessarily in my best interest.

Now the real question is this: what do I do if he calls me back tomorrow?

And what do I do when he doesn't?