For a long time, I didn’t want to let myself write about singleness. Not because I didn’t feel like I had things to say about it. And it’s not even because I didn’t think people would want to read it. In fact, the greatest response I’ve ever gotten from a blog post was when I wrote most honestly and vulnerably about this very topic.
Honestly, I didn’t want to write about singleness because of a fear that it was lame, or that it made me lame….or worse, pathetic. I was afraid that I would be labeled desperate or “that poor single girl.” I was convinced that somehow writing about being single would only make it more true, or maybe more obvious somehow? Like the metaphorical elephant in the room, I tried to imagine that as long as I didn’t talk about it too much and just laughed it off and casually changed the subject whenever other people brought it up, maybe it would just disappear. I was honestly terrified that if I started sharing my thoughts, experiences, mistakes, lessons, and joys about being single then it would be less likely to ever change.
And the truth is that even as I write these words, that fear is still screaming at me, “STOP. What are you doing?! You can’t do this! Don’t you know that this will surely ruin your chances of ever being anything but single?”
I still hear the voice of my fear ringing in my ears as loud as ever, but this time, I’m choosing not to listen.
Today was one of those days when my heart seemed to say, “I can’t fight the loneliness again today. You’re just going to have to feel it.” So I did. I sat in a yellow armchair in the corner of my living room with my legs dangling over the side and let myself cry for just a minute over the fact that another one of my friends started dating someone and I’ve got four more wedding invitations sitting on my desk and still there is not a single text on my phone from a guy who’s even remotely interested in pursuing me. I thought about how I’m going to my cousin’s wedding later this summer and everyone will be so excited to meet my brother’s girlfriend, and I’m already dreading that moment when they look at me ask, “so, is there anyone in your life….?” I mostly feel bad for them, because there is really no good way to respond when I shrug my shoulders and mumble “no, not really…” while managing a forced smile and trying to sound far more nonchalant about this confession than I actually feel.
A friend texted and asked me how my week was going, and while I tried to think of how to respond, I realized that it wasn’t really the loneliness that was so unbearable….it was the weariness of feeling lonely. You can only try to convince yourself that your roommate’s dog is a sufficient companion so many times before it starts to sound silly and hollow even to your own heart.
And in case you’re wondering, I’ve opened my Bible four times today and even reminded myself out loud of scripture that tells me that I am Jesus’ beloved Bride and that He calls me Sought After even when I feel un-pursued. Sometimes, those things are exactly what my soul needs to hear and it just takes one verse to wash over my soul with a wave of comfort and confidence. But other times, what I really need is to curl my hands up into fists, let my eyes fill up with tears, and tell God just how much it hurts to feel this lonely and un-seen when it seems like everyone else I know gets to have a flesh-and-blood companion to share so much of their life with. And then again, this kind of crying out to God is pretty Biblical too (see: the Psalms).
And usually, after a few minutes, I can stand up, wash off the mascara that’s run down my cheeks, and take the dog for a walk while I pretend like it’s perfectly normal to have entire conversations with an animal that doesn’t talk back to you:
“SnoopyDogg, did you have a good day today? Well, GOOD!
No way, did you chase a squirrel? Do you like chasing squirrels?!”
*dog tilts head back and forth adorably as though responding to my barrage of questions*
So that’s where I’m at today.
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Another reason why it’s been hard for me to get back into writing is because I keep hearing that in order to actually stick to something long-term, you have to know your “why”. I didn’t expect it to be so hard for me to identify my “why” for wanting to fill up this little corner of the internet with my words…but I think I’ve figured it out. I also think I know why it took me so long to be able to put it into words.
I wanted my “why” to be all about what I thought other people would get from my writing… encouragement, laughter, reminders that they’re not alone in the ways we struggle as humans. Those are all really good things, and they are a part of my why. But the whole truth is a little more selfish than I think I wanted to admit. My real “why” for sporadically (hopefully less sporadically one day) tossing my words out into the interwebs for anyone to read sounds a lot more like this:
Because I want people to know they’re not alone in their struggles and sorrow, triumphs and joys…by inviting them to help me remember I’m not alone in these things, either. Because I believe that vulnerable strength is the bravest kind, and I want to show the world – or maybe just myself – that I am brave. That Jesus makes me brave by calling me loved over and over and over again and He never gets tired of saying it.
Because I think that this is something He has called me to and gifted me with, and somehow I don’t think I’ll ever be fully living out His purposes for my life until I’m telling my story.
And so, Lord-willing, I’ll keep sharing this story of His faithfulness and my experience of it for the rest of my life. Thanks for reading along!
with love and wanderlust,
Cassady