Becoming Whispers | The Bravest Thing

I wake up this morning feeling intrigued about connection, and the first thing I think is: I could download them again.

The dating apps. The ones I deleted months ago.

I could do it right now. Open the app store. Search. Download. Set up my profile.

Be doing something about this aloneness instead of just sitting in it.

The thought pulls at me like a current.

I reach for my phone.

My thumb hovers over the app store icon.

I could. I really could. And part of me wants to, wants to feel like I'm taking action, wants to believe that if I just search hard enough, reach far enough, I'll find someone to fill this space.

I sit up in bed and look out the window. It’s quiet outside. Only a few birds singing this morning.

My thumb is still there, hovering.

I think about what it would feel like to scroll through faces again. To perform readiness I don't quite feel yet. To say yes to coffee with someone just to prove I'm okay, I'm moving forward, I'm not stuck.

The pull is real. It's strong.

But I don't press down.

I set the phone on the nightstand instead and sit with the feeling, the urge, the restlessness, the desire to do something.

It doesn't go away.

I don't expect it to.

But I notice it. I feel it moving through my chest like a current I'm choosing not to swim against.

I stand and walk to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass.

The street below is still quiet.

And I think: I could download them tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever I'm ready.

I could.

But today, I'm not.

Today, I'm learning what it feels like to want connection without chasing it. To feel the pull without acting on it. To trust that if I need to move, I will.

But right now, I'm still learning what it feels like to just be here.

To be enough, even in the waiting.

I pull my hand away from the window and walk to the kitchen to make coffee.

And the urge is still there, quieter now, but there.

And I'm okay with that.