Wednesday, July 26, 2017

on being single

As with so many things, singleness comes with a hefty load of negativity. Mostly self-inflicted, if I'm being honest.

I'm striving, though. And determined to stand upon my two feet without the comfort of a familiar face.

I hold my own weight, and at first the pounds of emotions and needs made me feel weak. It's an uphill battle--independence--and it requires one foot in front of the other with so much intention, if you ask me.

The notion that such a climb should be completed without stumbling is a caliber that would deprive a person of the gift of stumbling into a lesson learned -- of learning how to fall into humility, standing again in strength, and collecting the load once more.

I've talked so much about loneliness. About aloneness. About the goodness and danger found in both.

But what I fail to address in writing and in my own mind is the sacred idea of singleness.

For so long, I was part of a team.

The idea of being single is seemingly celebrated by nearly all, though likely feared by most.

I think we're afraid of what it says about us.

At least overcoming that portion of my fear has been one of my greatest stumbling blocks so far.

And yet.

Today, when talking to someone new, I was reminded of my past when I said, "I was almost married."

The words felt like vomit. I wanted to take them back, to discard them from the conversation. Who had I been back in time to have warranted such a phrase?


I also felt the gravity of my age. Twenty-three.

What might a twenty-three year old know about marriage?

Quite a bit, I'd argue.

And yet.

There was no grief following my statement.

Looking back causes nostalgia, certainly. Along with a craving for the sort of security that comes with a teammate, best friend, confidant, protector, password keeper, dancing partner, and Netflix binger.

But there was no grief.

Only hope.

Hope in the things I cannot see, and the timing I cannot predict.

The cynic in me claims that love is lost in Los Angeles,

but the goodness in me has never faltered in hoping and pursuing the impossible.

I keep calling this the year of the single girl, but really I don't know what might happen.

With each day, I relinquish my expectation of what my personal life should look like and celebrate the individuals who do fill it.

There are quite a lot of them, and for each one I am blessed beyond measure.

Most of all, I'm overcoming the fear of what I think the season of my life says about me.

The lie of feeling unwanted, uninvited, forgotten, or overlooked has got to go.

It just does. It's not healthy, nor is it fair. Plus, it's exhausting and annoying.


I am determined to revel in the ambiguity. I never have. So, I hope to do so at least once in this lifetime.

I look around me, and there is so much to be grateful for. So many resources to be filled by.

And I think that's what singleness is. What it isn't.

It's not about waiting for the right person.

It's about becoming right within one's self.

At least that's my assumption.

And so I continue up.

One foot in front of the other.

No rushing,

and all of the grace when I stumble once more.

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