Extension

I'm lonely.  I live in a house that's been in my family over 90 years.  My brother lives in the basement, my parents live in town.  In spite of this, I'm looking for a home and a family.

I've been doing it on my own for a year and a half.  I'm good at it.  I'm *really* good at it.  I have the freedom to say, "I want to do this," and do it.  And when that plan doesn't work, I try the next thing.

It's tiring, though.  It means having an inexhaustible ability to start over.  It means being able to do it on your own.  And sometimes, a lot of times, I break.  I'm lucky to have friends who will let me complain about whatever the latest new and insane plan is.  Do one thing each day that scares you.  Do six impossible things before breakfast.  Oh, and do everything else, too.

The days I can't do it anymore are the days I want to disappear so far inside someone else I can't see me or my problems anymore.  Which is what I did in my marriage.  His problems were bigger, and became mine.  How much easier it is to forget yourself and worry about someone else.  As long as you don't care who you are.
These days, I want to be me.  I'd like to be me with somebody else.  To be able to say, "hey, this is too much for me right now, can we do this together, or can we do something else for a minute and then remind me to go back?"  I don't really want to disappear, I just want a hand.

The reason humans can do mime is a function of our brains.  When you do a physical activity, portions of your brain light up as they work.  When you think about doing that physical activity, when you're just sitting in a chair, your brain continues to light up in the same exact ways.  It doesn't matter if you're doing it, or thinking about doing it, or pretending to do it, your brain turns on the same places. It still learns, it still creates the circuit, improves it.

This is why they say touch is one of the strongest things we can do.  Because it lights up our brain and connects us, and the memory of that experience is like recreating it.  Wanting someone to give you a hand isn't a metaphor.  It's literal.  It's the need to reinforce that someone is there for you.  And that's how your brain creates all those chemicals that are side effects of human connection- happiness, love.  So when you're out of them, you can find them by thinking of them.  And that makes the hard things not so hard.

That's how it's supposed to work.