I remember so vividly: when I was around four years old. Trying to sneak through the hallway of my home into the kitchen. In these moments, I was supposed to be napping, but these always happened to be when a quick snack sounded the most delectable; without fail.





My aunt would always be on the couch, watching this or that soap opera. I can’t say I remember the program names, but the repeated peaks and valleys of emotional turmoil that came were soon ingrained within my hungry heart. To be honest, I ended up consuming very little food in these quests, and instead found myself filled with questions.





I couldn’t wrap my head around the drama that unfolded before me. The lies; the manipulation; the withholding. It just didn’t make sense. All these people seem to care a lot; a whole lot. Isn’t that all you need? Isn’t that enough? If he likes her then why isn’t he talking to her about it? If she misses him, then why won’t she just tell him? If they’re sorry, then why are they spending so much time telling everybody else but the people they’ve lost?





To have a vip seat to the inner-workings of what I believed to be adult-life was equal parts exciting and anxiety inducing. I racked my brain for a good reason as to why any person could decide that their only option was no option at all; in the moments that it looked like their desire burned hottest.





I ached for these actresses and actors; hoped for resolution; promised myself that I would always find my own solution. I won’t give up so easy. It’s simple: if you long for something, and there’s still an ounce of a chance, fight for it.





And throughout my life, that’s what I’ve done. I’ve spent so many endings questioning, challenging, gripping. Refusing to give in, I’d find the tiniest little cracks and fit myself into them. I’d stretch any and everything as far as I could: a conversation; my capacity; ultimately — the truth. All in the name of love; how I believed to be the most courageous way to hold it. I had decided long ago that this must be the path to connection, because the alternative was so obviously filled with heartache, loss, and regret.





But, I missed something crucial.





Among all those relationships shared, explored, and lost in the matter of 12-16 episodes each season, there’s one devastatingly important relationship I never saw.





The twist and turns of the main characters’ life were always dependent upon a select and often changing group of their peers, lovers, and family. I never questioned this dynamic, it seemed natural. Life and love are about connecting; the only place to find and forge that is with others.





Lately, I’ve found myself wrestling with a follow-up question to all those I had asked years ago: what about the relationship you share with yourself? Like the main characters, or what I comprehended of their stories as a four year old, this question never once struck me. Until the last few years of my life, all the relationships I found myself poring over were external.





All the connection I ever considered to be important, was external.





It’s been quite the journey — quest — realizing and rebuilding the way I approach and navigate connection. Bringing myself into the equation seems so achingly obvious now, yet before, was easily forgotten as a necessary component. And still, is something I experience as new as I build and explore with others.





But, I think I’m onto something.





In the beginning of this quest, I found myself on an unfamiliar path that I was often convinced to be far more complicated than necessary. I mean, one person was tough enough; now I was considering another? Yet, as I’ve traveled deeper, I’ve been able to recognize more and more of the twists and turns I’ve found myself within. I’ve become more patient; more kind; more honest; more connected.





Before, when things were still mainly external, I was so terrified that a life inside would keep me from what existed externally. Now I find myself sharing more, because I have more of myself.





Internally, I’ve built trust, reverence, intimacy, and contentment. Externally, I don’t exist only to receive. I don’t walk only to find. I don’t share only to sustain.





Lately, I’m more with others not because I’ve courageously decided to forget myself, but because I am with myself.





If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all iterations of my quest to love and connection, is that there’s always something new to be held, experienced, and shared. So, while I find myself at this plateau, embraced in every direction I’ve gone and will go, I’m grateful to know that I already hold one of the most crucial aspects of the relationships I share with others: me.