A short-lived moment in the park on Boxing Day — nothing dramatic, nothing life-altering.
Just a greeting… and the ache it stirred up.
What I’m Noticing
Today, the smallest interactions hit harder.
Two older people who seem to claim the park as theirs.
My dog running over — too excited, too friendly — and me calling her back, feeling judged.
Searching for the ball they could’ve simply handed back.
That subtle message again: You’re the outsider here.
And then — a warm “Good morning,” soft and unexpected.
So surprising that I looked behind me to check if she meant someone else.
Kindness directed toward me is still difficult to trust.
There’s tension in wanting connection,
but also bracing for rejection.
Why I Think It Matters
I’ve been carrying myself alone for a long time.
Even when I’m doing well — staying busy, handling things — a moment like today reveals the truth under everything:
I’m tired of being the one on the outside.
I’m tired of trying so hard to show I’m responsible, kind, safe…
and still being misread by strangers.
That warm hello showed me how much I crave gentleness.
How much it means to be seen, even briefly.
It reminded me that belonging doesn’t come from doing —
but from being accepted as I am.
And that still feels fragile.
The Open Question
How do I let the tiny moments of warmth matter more
than the weight of all the cold ones?
I’m still figuring this out…