Four months ago I signed out of my chat program and have not signed in since. I'm unsure exactly what motivated me, but I think it had something to do with how the smartphone signs people in to chat programs automatically, but they're really not there. For someone like me, this is equivalent to being ignored. It's not that I expect to be hailed all the time, but knowing that my hello will bring no response is a little bit frustrating. So I sat down, had a good talk with myself, and decided that chatting was causing me stress. And I turned it off. 

I thought I would have difficulty for awhile. I've been chatting with people daily for over a decade. But I didn't. In fact, I have no desire to go back to that. I thought my phone calls to people would increase. They didn't. I thought maybe I'd email when I wished to talk--but that wish hasn't presented itself. 

One might assume that as I removed myself from my virtual social circle, that I'd venture more into real time sociality. This, too, has not proven to be the case. Instead I have filled my time with reading and working and thinking and trying to recover from my three-month-old hip replacement. And I've been happy. Except for the fatigue and depression which follows any bout I have with general anesthesia, I've felt better. 

I've remained in contact with people who are very close to me, but even that desire seems to be waning. I encounter the same obstacle sometimes--that is, wishing to talk but not being able to connect with them. I'm talking about busy schedules colliding, but also about my ability to feel close. I can't seem to do it. And it has nothing to do with desire. It's like every barrier I tore down ten years ago has been replaced and doubled in strength. I feel a yearning to connect, followed by a violent reaction inside that warns me away, reminds me that what I want is probably not what they want, followed by Tolkien Boy's voice telling me, as he did nearly eight years ago, "You can't ask people to feel the same way you do."

I know that--I've always known it. But I sort of want to scream at Tolkien Boy because he said that to me. Having it said by someone I respect and love just reinforces in my head that what I feel is wrong, somehow. And I hear the words again and again and again--every time I wish for something loving and human from another person. 

That was not his intention. He was just talking about feelings, and people, and life. My brain simply seized on the thing that seemed most relevant to me and kept those words looping through my mind and controlling my emotional life. I did that. 

Still, I've become used to my own company now, and I feel okay about that--so maybe Tolkien Boy did me a favor. I think he would like that. Maybe someday, when I feel like talking again, I'll tell him.