Tag Archives: Being Alone

Teeter-Tottering

Shit got emotionally real with yesterday’s post, The Soft Craving, where I talked about my belief that I’m going to be eternally single, how my desires are the exact opposite of that and I questioned why this juxtaposition is even happening in the first place.

Today, I want to talk about why I’m going to be okay, even if this proves true and I turn out to be the dog lady I always tell people I will be.

This turn around, this emotional bounce back, this teeter-tottering between being completely distraught that I’m going to be alone to being content with my singleness, does not erase the craving that I so distinctly feel. Hell, I definitely still feel that. I will always feel that, until I find that connection that I dream about.

But that doesn’t mean that craving needs my complete attention.

I’ve had a whirlwind of a past month, emotionally, as I started talking to a gent I met online. We went on a couple dates. I was kissed for the first time. And things were going fantastically. We connected on so many levels. I could talk to him so easily. And then…nothing. He ghosted. Of course, my insecure brain kept pointing to every instance of where I potentially messed up, when I said something wrong, when I was being too real, too honest, too intense. Yet those insecurities kept butting heads with everything that was going right and I was left in this pit of confusion and drowning in this fear that when I finally started to trust that I would be able to experience the beginning of what I’ve always dreamed of having, I would lose it. And then I did. And I still don’t understand it, not fully. But I can’t change it, so there it is.

This past weekend, as the last blog post attests, I was pretty down in the dumps. Honestly, I don’t think I truly was able to process and make this emotional turn around until I did two things: write that post and run this afternoon. Somehow, I remembered some things that I’ve always known, between the two: that I can be happy, even if alone. That there are so many aspects of my life that I already enjoy and love and cherish and I can still feel that way even if those aspects would be heightened if I had someone to share them with. And the advice that people had been giving me, that I had written off because it didn’t seem to make sense, suddenly did.

It’ll happen when you least expect it. When you’re just at the point of giving up, that’s when the magic happens.

I’ve always wanted to reject that advice, because a weird part of me felt that by giving up on the hope of finding someone, I was giving up on love. And love is what I believe in most. I was also apprehensive to not actively search for love, because how else would I meet people? What if by not searching, I missed out on finding someone and then I blink, and suddenly I’m 60 with four dogs and never found anyone because I never put myself out there?

And yet…

When I was talking to Sir Ghost, I was so insecure. I thought this kid was so out of my league and I was so focused on saying the right thing and over-analyzing everything. It was honestly exhausting. And it shouldn’t have been that exhausting. I should have been more trusting in myself, in my own worth, and more trusting in him and his words surrounding his interest (even if he disappeared despite such claims). Perhaps, with a bit more confidence, our ending could have been different. Regardless, despite the darkest days where I actually trick myself into believing I’m not worthy of love and being loved, that’s actually false. I am worthy. And I should believe that.

So.

After a shit-ton of reflection, asking advice from so many people and thinking about my desire to live this upcoming year fearlessly, I’m sitting here with a renewed hope and a renewed plan, for as much as you could plan for life. I want love. Of course that’s true. Of course I’m tired of being lonely. But I also need balance. I need self-love. I need to know, without a doubt, that my happiness isn’t tied to my relationship status. I need to choose and work at happiness, every day, as I’ve always believed, but had forgotten, pining after someone who had no interest in me.

So I’m going to work on me. I’m going to do things that I love: write, read, blog, game, edit. I’m going to work on improving my insecurities, especially physically. I’m going to keep running and start challenging myself to improve. I’m working on my damaging mindset I have about myself, shutting it down until such a mindset is only a memory. I’m going to continue to get tattoos and stop fearing that my love for ink is going to prevent me from finding the love of my life. Because that’s just not true. I just might treat myself a little more, too. I may splurge on a new outfit or getting my hair done more often than I have in the past, i.e., never. I gave myself permission to do both, before my date and surprisingly, they also made me feel really good. I wouldn’t mind feeling that way more often, even if it tightens my bank account that much more.

Does this refocusing mean that there won’t be nights where I throw all of this by the wayside and just want to be loved? Of course not. I teeter-totter between being confident and content being alone and craving so longingly to be loved all the time. Welcome to human emotions, friends. And though I want to focus on myself now and have faith that my man exists, is out there somewhere and somehow, we’ll find one another, eventually, I’ll put myself out there again, if I don’t stumble upon him. I’m still not completely sold on the “when you least expect it, it will happen” philosophy. But first, I want to love myself as fully as I am able; focus on knowing myself and appreciating that woman as much as I can. Perhaps by then, the universe will be ready to allow me to experience a love that people write novels about.

And if it doesn’t, then at least I have discovered how to love and find worth in myself in the process.

Cheers.

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The Soft Craving

I can already tell you that this title is a lie. Or, at least, it is a lie currently. When I saved a draft of this post, with only a title and a note of what I wanted to write about, back in August (yes, I know, that was a long time ago), the title was very apt. It described perfectly what I was feeling, capturing the desire and longing I felt with the term “craving” yet also reflecting the contentedness I felt through the clarification of “soft” instead of “intense”.

Currently, I think “intense” might fit the bill a bit more.

It’s my craving to be in love.

I’ve always had it, ever since the 7th grade when I had my first real crush that I told all my girlfriends about. And it’s never been fulfilled. Crush after crush passes by without so much of a batted eyelash in my direction. Or perhaps they steal a glance, but someone else always catches their eye, instead. But that craving has evolved to be so much more than not wanting to be alone on Valentine’s Day or wanting a date to the dance, like I wanted in high school. It’s so much more than just wanting to not be alone. I’ve been alone. I am alone. And I can thrive and be happy like that. I just don’t want to.

I want my forever person.

Originally, when I had made a draft of this post and then never gotten around writing it, it was the weekend I first moved into my apartment. I was putting up groceries for the first time, excited but also exhausted from moving and also working on top of moving. And I distinctly remember putting some food up in the cabinet and imagining, out of the middle of nowhere, a guy–my guy–suddenly leaning against the door frame and asking me how my day was, before he started putting items up in the fridge, after kissing me on the forehead. It was such a vivid snapshot that filled my head so randomly, so out of nowhere. Vivid in every aspect but his face. I couldn’t picture it. And my heart hurt, just slightly, ever so softly, for that fantasy to be reality; to have that presence in my life, that comfort, that connection, that love.

And that craving has only grown these past few months.

I’m at the age now where I’m alone a lot more than I am with people. Gone are the days where I had consistent friend groups or activities I was involved in because of school. Now, everyone has graduated and started that next stage of their lives: moving into apartments and houses, starting jobs that take out the same amount of money in taxes that you made in a semester during school…getting engaged and married and starting families. I love knowing so many people who are taking that next step, who are entering those next stages of their relationships. I love being there for them to celebrate and stress and awe over such a monumental time in their life. I absolutely adore seeing love win, manifested through a real, true and flourishing relationship.

But I also want to have that.

Hell, I want to have the starting point of a relationship; the nervous butterflies as you start talking, the chills down your spine when you flirt, the calling-your-best-friend-to-freak-out-about-what-to-wear-before-your-first date moment. And then I want it to continue: one date turns into two or three, your friends start to ask after him by name, your parents ask when they can meet him, you wonder if he’s going to kiss you next time, your hand instinctively reaches for his the next time you see one another. He asks you to be his girlfriend. You tell your family and friends and they freak out because it’s the first time it’s happened to you and they want to know all the details. You meet one another’s friends and family. You get used waking up to a text from him and look forward to telling him random stories and thoughts throughout the day, while eager to listen to his jokes or complaints or what he is thinking. You begin to learn more things about one another. Slowly, he becomes a major aspect of your life and, at the same time, you become the same in his. You post pictures together. He convinces you to watch a scary movie only to have the excuse to hold you tighter. Date nights turn into weekends spent together. You take him to your family Christmas party and he invites you to go on a roadtrip to celebrate your anniversary.

The connection. The attention. To be wanted. To be cherished. To be challenged. To be held. To be important. To be loved. To be chosen, day in and day out, even though there are others who are better out there, because that doesn’t matter, because he wants me.

I want that.

More often than not, I don’t spend my time dreaming about what I could have, in a relationship. I spend my time questioning why I haven’t found that relationship yet and why I never have (and dreading, with every core of my being, that I am one of those people who never will).

Is it my looks? Am I too curvy? Too plain? Is it my personality? Am I too nerdy? Too quirky? Too odd? Too insecure? Too honest? Too blunt? Too awkward? Too shy? Too opinionated? Do I open up too much? Do I want to be in love too much that the universe refuses it to happen? Is the fact that I struggle with brevity in all forms make talking to me exhausting? Is the fact that I consider physical aspects a bonus of a relationship and not a foundation too much a turn off? Is the fact that I have no interest in playing games–no interest in making you chase me, no interest in worrying about how long it’s been since I’ve texted you, etc.–make me too boring/not worth it? Are my standards too high? Do I desire too much? Am I too much?

Am I not enough?

I have a fantastic life. I have a roof over my head, a job that almost supports me, passions that I pursue, a family that I’m close with and hold dear, friends that keep me sane, independence that I cherish and an imagination that I thank God for every day. Yet this craving, when I’m at my loneliest and the questions above hit me like thunderclaps during a storm of self-doubt, questioning why I’m alone, why I have to wait, why I haven’t found him, does he exist; when this craving, which is constant, but at it’s strongest, it overrules everything else, because that hole, that missing link, in my life, is so evident, is so obvious, is so felt

And I have no idea what to bloody do about it; if I can do anything about it, because suck it up, accept a life featuring just me and a horde of dogs, and move on.

My heart has wanted to be in love for so long, I don’t know if I could even imagine what it would feel like to actually be in love. I have wanted to choose someone for so long; to make him feel wanted and cherished. To be a presence and a light in his life. To challenge him and help him grow. To be there when he struggles and be that person he calls when he is excited. I know I’m not the greatest thing to look at and my body isn’t exactly a bombshell. I know I’m quirky and nerdy and shy and introvertedly extroverted and I don’t necessary think any of those aspects are bad. I know there are women out there who are prettier, smarter, cooler, richer, better.

But I also know this: to the man who manages to steal my heart and trust me with his? To the man who chooses me every day, despite all of those other options and temptations? To the man who makes me believe I am worthy to not only be loved, but to have his love, just as much as he is worthy to have mine? To the man who shows me what it’s like to be in love and not alone? I promise you, you will never feel or be more loved. I will love you entirely, completely, totally, utterly. Despite my shortcomings, you will never doubt how much you mean to me and “how much I ardently admire and and love you.”

So, if you could be so kind, please come into my life sooner rather than later? Because I’m started to really believe you don’t exist and, even if you did, I don’t deserve you, anyway.

Cheers.