Obsessed with connecting
Tuesday, August 3, 2010 at 9:30PM 
Imagine you're in a foreign country, right off the plane, without knowing the language, needing help, desperately trying to explain what you need. Imagine your tongue is not moving, its paralyzed due to some virus. And your hands are not moving. And your body is not cooperating, only the legs are holding you up. So all you do is stand there, lost, no baggage with you since you couldn't carry any. Alone. In the sea of people, bustling around, full of life. When someone stops, opens their mouth questioningly, looks into your eyes, you hope that your eyes can tell the tale of your struggle, you hope that someone can red your mind. Only they can't. They quickly lose interest and pass by. You keep standing. You see airplanes arriving and departing, people entering and exiting. You stand by the wall, a piece of furniture with feelings, buried deep under your immobilized limbs.
Imagine you stand there a year. Imagine that at the end of that year, when you lost all hope, for a split second the flow of people breaks, and through that window you see the opposite wall of the great hall you are standing in. Imagine you see another human being, staring back into the crowd, just like you, immobilized, with pain in the eyes. Imagine your eyes meet. You barely move your head, the other person completes the movement - it finishes what you intended, exactly. You're thrilled. The other person is too. You feel the connection. Your pain leaves you, you rise above the ground, you float above the bustling crowd, your friend lifts too. You leave your bodies and connect in the air, above the others, for an ethereal moment of connection, and you're happy for the first time in your miserable year of standing around alone. You speak the same language, you finish each other sentences, then somebody kicks your foot with their bag, and you smack back into your body. But the misery is gone. You now crane your neck, and at every possible moment there is a break in the people flow, you see your friend do the same. You exchange smiles. A month goes by. You steal moments together. The you find a third friend, then a fourth. They get you without speaking, they hold your hand without touching, they cry with you without visible tears, they hug you without lifting their arms.
This is my life. I'm a stranger in the sea of people, I can't speak of the unspeakable that was done to me, I can't show it with my hands and arms, I can't explain in one sentence what is wrong with me, unless I say one word that usually stops all conversations - incest. I have been like this until I found those others, my new friends in the cyberspace, who send me virtual hugs, who finish my sentences, who say - yes, me too, yes, I had that too, yes, they all think I'm weird too, yes, yes, yes. Once I tasted it, I got hooked. They get me, I get them. I'm now obsessed with connecting. My mood instantly soars when i get a message on Facebook, or a reply to me tweet, or a comment on my blog. I get home after work and instead of sleeping, I chat with friends from all over the globe, from Israel to Australia, and I can't get enough of it.
My new friends, this blog post is dedicated to you. Without you my life is numb, and I am paralyzed. You give me voice, to speak up, to keep going, to share my story, and to help you share yours. I wish I didn't have to sleep, or eat, or do anything else - if I could live off of ether, that ether would be your presence. I can't get enough of it. I'm obsessed.
Photo by Foxtongue.
Reader Comments (4)
Oh, Ksenia! I know exactly what you mean. For me, I have only just had my first glimpse of that person at the other end of the Hall after MANY silent years of standing alone wondering how on earth I was going to survive.
Thank you so much for writing as you do. You are an inspiration! I look forward to being able to "...connect in the air..." with you in the future.
Me too! Thank you - and I am looking forward to it so much.
I'm glad you told us at the party the other night. (I'd seen your FB page recently, so it wasn't brand-new news, but I didn't know you were writing a book.) We care about you.
Thanks, guys. I am so happy to have seen you - it's been a while since we talked.