I’ve been thinking a lot about human connection lately — what it means to love and be loved, what it means to spend your time on this Earth with someone who cherishes the real you. It’s something I’ve pondered long before this epoch of self-isolation and social distancing, but maybe spending so much time alone has made me confront it more profoundly. Regardless, my postulations about relationships of any sort — romantic, platonic, anything in the middle — have deepened.
I’ve reflected on how people develop authentic bonds and the double-edged sword of forming that connection. It’s a beautiful thing to find someone who values you and wants to be around you, but it’s also terrifying. It’s scary trusting someone with your sensibilities and developing an interdependence. Because, one day, that person might decide to disconnect from what you thought was a good thing. And few things are as psychologically painful as feeling like your existence is an obstruction or an inadequacy.
As someone who’s pretty guarded, I often cite the fear of hurt and rejection as reasons to keep my emotions in a glass box — visible, but barricaded. It’s the bleak side of the human connection coin. However, I’ve recently become more intrigued by the rosy facet of intimacy that makes vulnerability worthwhile. The journey of finding a genuine soulmate definitely has bumps in the road, but I don’t think I’m nearly as scared of those setbacks as I used to be. This is something I’ve personally grasped in terms of romance, but the concept of wholly and lovingly connecting with someone can apply to friendships, familial relationships, etc. It’s wonderfully universal, which is why the songs ahead have been on repeat this past week.