I’m Not Distant — I’m Just Finally Close to Myself

“You’ve changed.”

“You’ve gone quiet.”

“You’re a bit distant these days.”

I’ve heard all of it — from friends, family, even myself.

And I get it. Maybe I do seem distant.

I reply slower. I cancel more. I say less.

But I’m not cold. I’m not retreating.

I’m just finally close to myself.

And closeness to self often requires space from everything else.

🔹 1. I used to perform connection

I thought being a good friend, partner, or person meant being available — all the time.

Always ready to listen, to text back, to answer calls, show up, show up, show up.

Even when I was exhausted.

Back then, I feared that if I didn’t make consistent effort to prove I was there, people would think I was fading.

So I gave beyond my limits and called it loyalty.

But now I know: relation without regulation leads to burnout.

Connection without boundaries isn’t care — it’s codependency.

🔹 2. The noise outside was louder than my own voice

I used to drown in interactions that left no room for breath.

Every day was a performance of engagement.

Even my silences had to be explained.

I equated silence with being misunderstood —

So I filled every space with noise.

Now, the quiet doesn’t scare me. It centers me.

And if my stillness makes others uncomfortable, that’s okay.

Their comfort is not my compass anymore.

🔹 3. The closer I got to myself, the more I outgrew external narratives

I used to care what people said about me, especially when I wasn’t "around enough."

I didn’t want to be the flaky one. The distant one.

But then I asked:

Why should I feel guilty for finally needing me?

Now, my internal voice matters more than their speculation.

If someone misreads my peace as disinterest, that’s their story to carry — not mine to correct.

🔹 4. I didn’t disappear — I just reappeared in my own life

For years, I was everywhere for everyone else.

Now I’ve returned to my own space.

And it’s softer here.

I prioritize people who don’t require constant performance to know they matter.

I cherish conversations that don’t pressure me to produce excitement.

My absence from certain rooms isn’t apathy.

It’s alignment.

This is what it means to reconnect inward —

To stop abandoning yourself in the name of presence.

🔹 5. Relationships aren’t built on proximity alone

Just because someone sees you often doesn’t mean they know you.

And just because someone thinks you’re “distant” doesn’t mean you’ve changed.

Sometimes it means you’ve finally rooted deeper.

Today, I’m more selective — not out of ego, but protection.

I protect the self I spent years burying under busyness.

Now that I’ve made it back to me, I’m not so quick to leave again.

🔹 6. I don’t chase comfort anymore — I create alignment

In the past, I would chase validation at the first sign of discomfort.

If a friend called me distant, I’d overcompensate.

If someone misunderstood my silence, I’d write long messages explaining I still cared.

Now?

I let the silence speak for itself.

I let people feel what they feel, without abandoning myself to manage it.

That’s not indifference.

That’s self-trust.

🎯 Final Thoughts

I know I seem distant.

But for the first time, I feel at home.

Presence, for me, is no longer about availability.

It’s about intentionality.

I’d rather be deeply present with myself than loosely available to everyone else.

I’m not distant.

I’m just grounding.

And if you can’t meet me there, maybe I was never close to you — only convenient.