The One where I'm a Robot.

Well, it's been almost four weeks since my last post. I wasn't kidding when I said that I had fallen out of the habit of writing, was I?

The truth is, and it didn't hit me until I actually said it out loud today, I'm just sort of closing my eyes and running through the hubbub that is my life right now. Because I'm always on the go, my sense of caring and my sense of expressing emotion has sort of flown out the door.

As I've said before, movies and plays and television shows and books rarely make me emotional/make me cry. I am touched by them; I am sometimes even changed by them... but very rarely do I find myself choking back tears because of them. I think it was because I could remove myself from them. Because I found things in my own personal life to be so emotional and so beautiful and so sad and so maddening, those things in books and movies and plays just weren't important.

And the strangest thing has happened over the last few months: the exact opposite is happening to me. Where I used to bawl like a baby over my personal situations and opportunities and struggles, they fall by the wayside and I let myself forget about them. And now, movies and plays and musicals and books and TV shows are where my tears are shed.

And because of this, I feel like a robot.

Not a sad robot, of course, because I'm not sad. I'm just jaded. In a world full of color, I am black and white. I am cut and dry. Disenchanted. Blasé.

I don't want that anymore. I want the things in my personal life to touch my heart the way that they did before. I want my emotions to feel absolutely tangible. What I really want is balance. A life that I don't take for granted but also a life that I have a handle on emotionally.

You won't know this because virtually no time has passed since you read that last sentence... but I have been sitting here staring at the computer screen for over twenty minutes, trying to decide what to say in regards to this dilemma. After this brief internal dialogue, I am more than positive I have figured it out.

Now, what I'm about to say is not said to cause any hurt feelings. I know my saying that doesn't make it all better, doesn't make people not feel hurt, but I'm hoping to say this in a way that will remain sensitive. I'm also hoping to say this in order to help myself better understand the situation. Like I've said before, saying it out loud (or, in this case and many others, writing it) gives me a clearer view on what I'm dealing with.

Yes. I am acting this way/feeling this way because it is a defense mechanism.

My circle of friends has completely changed. Over the last year, save a very special few, I have all new friends. I remember when I first felt it; it was when I came back from Texas after Christmas. It had started to dwindle for a little while before that, one by one, but the Great Friend Apocalypse happened in January. My roommates, my classmates, the people that I truly considered dear friends started to drop like flies. I felt abandoned by these people. Luckily, by that time, I was well into Tale and had developed new friendships. I didn't feel horribly lonely... just horribly confused.

I know that I changed a lot. I know that my confidence had risen leaps and bounds because of my weight loss. I was a sorry, sad sight before I made the decision to make a big change in my everyday life by treating myself better. I did what I had to do, and I was happier. It's amazing to think that during the times that I was SO unbelievably sad all the time, I had those friends around me to comfort me, to laugh with me in order to make me feel better, to listen to me. And then I got happy. And no one cared to listen anymore. I can't help but think, "Misery loves company."

These were people I truly believed I would hold onto for a long time; I invested a lot of energy into them, a lot of emotions, a lot of care. I laughed with them and cried with them and hugged them and played with them. And then one day, they were gone.

This isn't the blame game. I know that my "new personality" was a little overwhelming and perhaps a little sudden. It was, however, something I wanted to share with the people I loved. But when I turned around to share it with them, and with a smile on my face, those people were no longer a part of my life.

So, I shut down. I became a well-oiled machine in social settings with these people. I allowed them to slip away without even the smallest indication of a fight on my side... which, if anyone knows me at all, they know that isn't like me. I hold onto people and I fight to make things better. But for some reason, I felt like it was unfair, and therefore futile. I developed somewhat of a "bunker mentality" of robotic emotions to keep myself from getting hurt.

And the hard truth is... I did that to myself, and now I have to fix it.

This has been something that has been weighing on my mind for some time... something so small as my losing weight has changed so much of my life, more for better than worse. I only know what I feel: my life is better.

And the fact of the matter is that true friendship is deeper than any appetite and greater than any waist size. I need to recognize that I have those sweet friends that I care most about around even now.

That's what's important and that's what will help me feel.