What a decade of singlehood has taught me about love.

This month I grappled with loneliness, change and grief. Grief for what was, grief for the speed at which life seems to be moving and grief for the decisions that set friends off onto different paths.

I guess my mood matched the season. As an introvert, fall and winter have always been my favorite months. A cozy pocket of time, perfect for hours of reading, self-reflection and solitude. But, my introvert heart craves intimacy and community just like any other human.

“For while Charlotte revered solitude, and prided herself on being a quiet and (she thought) impeccable observer, she also craved relationship.”

— Crescent Dragonwagon (author, writer)

And while I believe that building, fostering, and nurturing a rich inner life is not a substitute for community or friendship, it’s as important. You need both. As I’m continuing to learn, it’s rarely this or that, it’s this AND that. It’s both. It’s striking the right balance…for you.

Train of thought One: Decisions that set friends off onto different paths.

I’ve been single for 10 years, and it’s been one hell of a rocky road to navigate. Sometimes the best decisions for ourselves are also the loneliest. But, loneliness comes and goes, and like all emotions, it’s temporary. I know these bouts of loneliness will come with me wherever I go, even in the most crowded of rooms, surrounded by friends. Being alone isn’t what causes loneliness.

Alone, I’ve realized how much emphasis western society puts on romantic love, leaving nothing but scraps for our friendships. Friendships, filling the gaps between partners, filling time before we meet ‘the one,’ filling time. What a concept. Hogwash. I can’t believe that my younger self put every boyfriend on a pedestal, made them the center of my world. I may have bouts of loneliness, but these 10 years have taught me the true value of friendship, of love.

As my friends get married and start families of their own, I’ve experienced a new kind of loneliness. A strange feeling of loss, even though in reality, I’m not actually losing anyone. Our relationships are about to change, and while it’s an exciting new chapter, I can’t help but grieve what was. Thankfully, I stumbled upon just the right podcast at just the right time: A single Serving Podcast with Shani Silver.

“I think that telling your own story gives you a sense of control, but you know, as we’re realizing, sadly, (this episode was recorded during the early covid19 pandemic lockdowns in April 2020) is that control is basically a joke. The real skills in life are how you cope with uncertainty. Hope is a good tool to apply to uncertainty and it’s really hard to have, so people who can teach us that are very valuable.”

— Gina Fattore (producer, writer)

This conversation was a breath of fresh air for my single soul. Gina’s personality shines through and It was such a pleasure to listen to her share her stories of friendship as well as her time working as a TV writer. Of course, hearing the host of the podcast, Shani, express her fears and anxiety around losing friends who are having babies was exactly what I needed. I know in my heart and in my gut, that being childfree is the right decision for me, even though it feels lonely as hell.

I don’t know how to have these conversations, they feel messy, uncomfortable and a tad selfish. Sometimes we make decisions that lead us off onto different paths, and the ‘to be a mother or not to be’ conundrum is fraught with tension.

As Gina shares, your 30’s are tough because that’s when a lot of the weddings and babies are happening, but, once you reach your 40’s and 50’s, people’s kids will be adults and divorces might start happening and you’ll realize that a lot of people just don’t know how to be alone. At least that’s something I’ll be familiar and experienced at. This conversation gave me hope that things will get better, and that eventually my friends will come back into my life in new ways. Not all is lost.

Shit. That got deeper than I intended. I guess I’ll always be an emo teen at heart. Onto something lighter, shall we?

Train of thought Two: Goodbyes, and appreciating what we do have.

I got my first couch for a six pack of Heineken, and oh what a couch it was. From 22 to 33, same roommate, 3 apartments, it’s time to say goodbye.

Goodbye couch. Oh, the moment’s we’ve shared, the good times we’ve had. Where others see a beaten up, dusty red couch, I see slumber parties, movie nights, cuddles and the imprint of 3 lovely cats. Thank you for the wine filled nights, full bellied laughs and for being a place of refuge for my friends to lay their heads. You know what they say, you always remember your first couch. Ha! Oh, those lists of delightful firsts.

First apartment.

First roommate.

First taste of independence.

First kiss.

First breakup.

First couch.

Listen, I know objects are just objects. My car won’t be there to console me after a shitty day, but the objects in my life are imprinted with memories. I know that when it’s time to let go, it’s time, but my memories are mine and will remain long after the garbage truck has passed.

“List what you remember, from time to time: not only all you have, but all you have had. And with memory, let gratitude, that dear Old Faithful, rise up again, fountain-like and geysering.”

— Crescent Dragonwagon (author, writer)

What purpose does it serve to be nostalgic and why do I love to spend so much time there? Like a gentle pool of water on a humid summer day, I can float comfortably in nostalgia, rocked gently by it’s waves of memories. A time that felt easier, that felt better, even though it wasn’t. But as a child, who was lucky enough to have been raised in a loving and nurturing environment, it felt safe then, and maybe it’s that safety I long for in those moments. In those moments where I feel plunged into darkness, I long to be cared for. It’s funny how as a teen all I ever wanted was to be all grown up so that I could make my own rules and do as I please. But, with all the joys and freedoms of adulthood, it can feel vastly lonely when there’s no one to bring you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick, no one to hold you in their arms after a difficult day. Being an independent woman has it’s up and down’s. I’m grateful for the lessons I’m learning about the importance of community and friendship.

Recently I began to think that nostalgia was bad, harmful. That it was equivalent to wearing rose colored glasses, conjuring up a world built only on the good times. After reading Crescent’s words, I had a mini aha! moment. Maybe nostalgia isn’t as bad as I had come to believe. When I remember all that I’ve had and all that I’ve experienced, the good and the bad, gratitude inevitably does rise up, fountain-like. I remember the good, so that I can keep the flame of hope for better days to come, and the bad reminds me of my resilience, and the love and support I’ve received along the way.

But beware, when one so easily gets lost in nostalgia, best to keep one foot firmly grounded in reality.