The Deep One in the Shallow End

For years, I’ve felt like the deep one in the shallow end.

Like I’d gone too far into myself — done too much work, grieved too many things, faced too much truth — to ever really be met.
Like no one else had been to those places.
Like the only people around were those who preferred to wade instead of dive.

I started to believe it was arrogant to feel that way.
But maybe it was something else.

Maybe it was grief.
Maybe it was loneliness disguised as superiority — a way to protect myself from the ache of not being truly seen.
Because if I’m “above” them, I don’t have to admit I’m aching for them.

And maybe, if I’m honest, I’ve chosen people who I knew couldn’t meet me.
Not because I wanted to be hurt — but because I didn’t think it was possible to be met.
And if I could keep proving that belief right, I wouldn’t have to sit with the painful hope that maybe, just maybe, love is possible.

But here’s what’s shifting:

I’m not in survival mode anymore.

Not as much, anyway.

The 50% parenting dynamic was slowly draining me. I was at my limit constantly.
I’d barely recover before I was needed again.
And in that cycle, there was no room to be a man — just a parent, just a provider, just a shell.

But now… there’s a break in the clouds.

I have space.
Not endless space. But enough to start remembering who I am outside of survival.
Enough to rest and maybe, slowly, start reaching again.

And I think that’s what I’ve needed all along.

Not just connection — but the capacity to connect.
Not just people — but the space to let them in.

So maybe I’m not broken.
Maybe I’ve just been overwhelmed.
And maybe, now, I’m finally in a place where connection doesn’t have to cost me my peace.

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A Quiet Hope

I still don’t know where to find the people who’ve gone where I’ve gone.
But maybe they’re not in the shallow end — maybe they’re just further down the path.
People who are also tired of pretending.
People who aren’t afraid of depth, or silence, or shadow.

And maybe I’ll meet them.
Not all at once. Not dramatically.
But slowly, through presence. Through showing up again.

Because I’m not searching from desperation anymore.
I’m just leaving the door open.

And for now… that’s enough.