a dose of your sweet energy

I've always known that I'm an extrovert. 

I told my Grandpa he wasn't paying enough attention to me when I was five years old. 

I'd walk up to strangers just to start a conversation. 

(This was back when parents were less afraid a stranger would hand their kid a candy bar with a syringe in it.)

I'm direct and demanding. 

I know what I want and what I need. 

At least I thought I did. 

Most of the time. 

I saw a play last weekend and one of the characters had a line where she looked at the audience and said, I just want to be the center of attention. I want people to pay attention to me. Is that so wrong?

Gee, could I relate. 

But funny enough I spent all of last week (up until that Saturday at the theatre) alone. 

I went to work and came home and was alone. 

And then I went to work and came home and was alone. 

Every day. 

For five nights in a row. 

And then, suddenly, Friday night I was sitting on my couch, and nothing happened, I didn't hear a song or stub my toe or anything, but I just started balling. 

Long, loud, hard sobs. 

Tears came running down my face and I felt like a crazy person. 

I was 

so

sad. 

But there was no concrete reason. 

Except I felt lonely. 

And for the most part, because I've always been such a social butterfly, the only time I ever spend excessive amounts of time alone are when I'm really ill. 

And I'm thirty-four years old and I should know what my basic needs are. 

But last week was a reminder that I need to spend time with the people that I love. 

Being alone can be great. 

It's when I process and create and talk to my cat in a baby voice. 

But most of my time needs to be spent in fellowship. 

Since Saturday I've gotten to see someone I love every day. 

Someone different every single day that I absolutely adore. 

Can you even imagine that?

And sure, maybe I've swung to the other extreme and I'm not giving my spirit the solitude it needs to thrive. 

But truly?

I probably only need one eve in seven alone. 

And it feels rather good to know that, to understand that part of myself. 

When so very little of so very much makes any bit of sense.