I have a habit of qualifying my observations about the world around me with a sentence like, “I don’t know if it’s just me, but…”

I think I do this because I often feel isolated in my experience of the world. When I say “I don’t know if it’s just me, but…” people probably hear, “Do you relate to this, and can we connect?” But what I’m actually saying is “I feel incredibly strange and alone in the perception I’m about to share with you, so I just wanted to let you know that I know it’s f*g weird.”

The joke of it is that I’m not actually isolated in my experience of the world. I’m not actually that special. Sharing my writing has proven, time and time again, that I’m quite in tune with human experience; so much so, in fact, that I often receive emails from complete strangers thanking me for telling their story by way of my own; for seeing them by way of seeing myself.

So why, then, do I feel so disconnected?

Recently, I’ve been developing a theory, and I’m wondering if it might resonate with anyone. Once again: I don’t know if it’s just me, but…

I spent a long time working toward what I thought would connect me to the “real” world; working, carrying on relationships, curating a life of material possessions and relative status — all of which I thought would, eventually, ground me. Unfortunately, what I lacked through all of it was real, uninterrupted Presence with a capital P. If you’ve encountered me during the last, IDK, decade, know that I was I was there, but also 10 steps ahead of whatever “there” was at the time. My brain does really well in a constant state of overdrive;

what to wear, what to post, what to buy, what to produce, what to share, what to prove,where to go,how to get thereI always valued my ability to think that way; in fact, I convinced myself it was the byproduct of true ambition. The problem with being in this never-ending state of momentum is that it doesn’t honor what you’re experiencing now, as in, right this minute. It also leaves absolutely no room for what you’re actually feeling

And that’s where a sense of disconnection comes in, right? Because you’re not actually connected to anything in the present, and you can’t possibly be connected to anything in the future because the future doesn’t actually f*g exist yet. So, you end up putting yourself in existential purgatory; refusing to honor the now, and instead rooting yourself in something you can’t even see — which technically means you’re not rooting yourself in anything at all.

Does this make sense? Are you still with me? Do I have any business in exploring these topics? Am I literally having a mental breakdown by way of an email newsletter? I don’t know if it’s just me, but…

This quarantine and year have thrown me in ways I literally couldn’t have, or wouldn’t have conceived of, even as short as one (1) year ago. A friend of mine calls this process the “crumbling,” AKA, the unexpected and often difficult life events that force us to take a step back from all of our insufferable, short-sighted, toxic b**t and step forward in a whole new way, should we be brave enough to accept the challenge. I’ve been through a lot, but if I’m honest, this is the first time I’ve truly crumbled. Don’t get me wrong: I’m doing just fine, and I’m ridiculously lucky. I have my health, I have a place to live, I am surrounded by people who love me. I am not complaining, nor am I blind to the tremendous hardships people are experiencing, living lives far more unjust and brutal than my own. I also know that, objectively, my life has been harder than this.

But there’s something about this moment that feels different. Though my external circumstances are relatively benign, my inner world is going through some kind of spectacular transition. I feel more tuned into my present stream of consciousness than I ever have before. I’m realizing things about myself and the people I love that seem so obvious, but I’ve never once thought of. I’m living inside my own head in the present, instead of allowing my brain to go into overdrive about what’s around the corner. I’m learning that so much about my former life — AKA, the life I was trying to build before — actually made me really f*g miserable. I’m also learning how comfortable I was navigating that misery, and how affirmed I felt when I was praised for something that deep down, I kinda hated.

Good job, Amanda! You did it! And by “It,” I mean: some s**t you don’t even care about. You should be…proud?

Anyways. This is where I’m at. And I’m sharing this with you — whoever you are — because I think that part of being present is being honest, and if past experience has shown me anything, the more honest I am, the more I’m able to connect with the world around me. And again, I’m talking about real connection; the connection to the now, by way of telling the truth about how I’m experiencing the now. Maybe you’re experiencing it, too. Maybe you’re reading or listening to this and thinking to yourself “Goddamnit, this is me.” I hope so.

I’m going to leave you with one really cool thing that’s been happening since I started tuning in to my inner world, something that legit gives me chills whenever it occurs, and whenever I think about it. That is: I’m realizing that there are little signs, all around me, guiding me along on my creepy little path of self discovery. They’re real, tangible things in the world that stop me dead in my tracks and acknowledge that I’m in the right place, right now. I’ve never been able to receive those signals before — too much st in my brain, I guess — and to me, they’re like the ultimate reminder of how connected I actually am to my own existence, even though I have a hard time accessing it. It’s little st: a text message that comes in the exact right moment. A TV character’s monologue that I happen to hear when I wake up after passing out on the couch. A moment of overwhelming universal acknowledgment when I feel so anxious and scared, I suspect I might just start throwing up all over the place. It’s not ~a~ higher power, I don’t think (or at least, I haven’t thought of that, yet). It’s ~my~ higher power, and the possibilities to see it seem to be around every corner.

I don’t know if that’s just me, but…damn.

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