It's 10:30pm on a Wednesday night and I just did the craziest thing. I got up off the couch. Put my face on. Dug through my clothes. Made a mental note to do laundry. Settled on something subtly sexy. Unlocked the door. Then turned around. Kicked off my shoes. And plopped back down on the couch.
I was going out to see a boy. A man rather. A man who treated me badly rather, rather. All because my life is sort of falling apart right now and I'm pre-programmed to beat the hell out of dead horses. To grasp at straws. To reorganize the kitchen cabinets. When shit hits the fan.
Turns out I'm not the only one. We're masters of distraction. Of avoiding pain and seeking pleasure.
We're also hardwired to crave connection. Love. Belonging. And we'll go to great lengths to get it. Even getting up off our lazy asses in the middle of the night to see a boy. A man. A man who treated us badly.
Luckily, I stopped myself before I numbed the chaos with drinks and smiles. It would have been bad had I walked out that door. Because sometimes finding connection with others isn't worth losing the connection we have with ourselves.