Around this time last year, I got vulnerable and talked about what it has meant to be single just about my entire life thus far. It was Thanksgiving morning last year, and I spoke of the wonder I had – the wonder of when it wouldn’t just be me walking into a Thanksgiving dinner whilst my family all had their pairs.
I remember having this comfort in no longer asking “if” that was going to happen for me, but rather “when”.
Well, it’s been almost one whole year and I’m here to report I’m beginning to feel the opposite…
Now before you click to exit out of the page, let me assure you, this isn’t some woe is me post.
But I will tell you, it’s honest.
And in a world that lacks vulnerability and rather builds walls behind emotion and the truth, I am here to be real for a second – to deliver thoughts that torment a lot of our minds, but we sometimes never have the courage to say out loud.
I’m starting to wonder – truly – if the love my hopeless romantic childhood self always craved isn’t written in the stars for me. Love is a tricky thing – and let me tell you, quite exhausting.
And I’m tired.
I also recognize that love surrounds me in so many ways outside of a man choosing me. I have a fridge decorated with artwork reminding me just how loved I am, actually. And so with that, it feels quite selfish actually, to sit here and worry about never finding love – because I do in fact have it.
And so I guess I’m just starting to wonder… Perhaps this deep love I have always craved is meant to be in my life in ways I didn’t anticipate it to be.
Maybe all of that love is being translated into being remembered in countries years later on the other side of the world, or in my niece looking me in the eyes and telling me she doesn’t want me to leave. Perhaps it’s in the friends who tell me not to change who I am because they love me just the way I am – even if some can’t see it.
I read a quote recently that said – “You could be the prettiest shade of green, but you’ll never be enough for someone whose favorite color is blue.”
And perhaps – just perhaps – I’m just an unidentifiable shade.
And I think that’s okay, or maybe that’s just what I’m telling myself.
People tell me that I should be whole on my own – that we don’t need another person to complete us. I agree to certain extents; however, I think there is a flaw in that ideology – that we don’t need others.
Human connection is a crucial part of the human experience. Self love is important, but I also am not afraid to admit that feeling loved, accepted, and wanted by someone else is a good feeling.
I think it’s okay to acknowledge that I can be hyper-independent, solo travel the world, want to build a business of my own, and yet still want a companion through it all – does that make sense?
I have no problem – actually, oftentimes I prefer it, really… – to spend time on my own, to go to an art museum alone. Whenever someone asks who I’m going with, and I respond with “myself”, I still am astounded by the amount of people who gasp and comment back – “I’m sorry!”.
I’m not.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say here is I’m feeling a bit stuck in this middle world. In times like these where the hopelessness creeps in, I turn to poetry, memoirs, podcasts – anything there to introduce a new perspective or line of thinking. Anything to help me turn a time of feeling like this into something that will ultimately help me grow – to help me cope.
And guys, I fear I’m losing the positivity battle… the hope tank is just about at empty and I’m thinking it’s time a new perspective is introduced. Love is everywhere, and it is ever present in my life – perhaps just not in the way I always imagined it would be.
I’m starting to wonder if I was meant for late night hostel conversations across the world with strangers I will never see again, and discovering the new ways of the world with just me.
So, to all to stayed and read through what I do recognize is quite a downer of a post… I am sorry to disappoint – to not offer a glimmer of hope as I always try to do. But the whole point of this space – of my writing – of who I am… is to be real.
And this post… it’s about as real as it gets.
It is, in fact, a more bitter part of the human experience. And I can promise you, after hitting publish on this page, I will chronically overthink for the next 48 hours of whether I should’ve been this vulnerable – gotten this deep. But as scary as it is, I think it’s important. If just one of you reads this and has the same worries, I just want you to know you’re not alone.
And maybe that’s supposed to be the beauty in all of this hardship – the communal feeling of the uncertainty of the future.
If you feel it… just know I feel it too.
