(This is a bit heavy, especially for having not written since June…sorry in advance.)
If you’ve just stumbled on this blog, or it’s the first post you’ve ever actually read, or you just haven’t been in touch with me AT ALL in a very long time, know this: I’m single. As the day is long.
Most of the time, I’m ok with that. Most of the time, I’m super glad that I didn’t jump into a relationship/marriage/what-
have-you and end up regretting it. I know I’m glad God saved me that heartache. I’m glad he has allowed me to become who I am – who I wouldn’t be if I had gotten married before now; if I had even been in a serious relationship before now.
But there’s a weird juxtaposition going on between being genuinely thankful for what God has done (and is doing) in my life right now, and where I still hope to be – and I’m not getting any younger. Some of you are chuckling now, because you’re older than me. Some of you are older and married, some are older and not married. Some of you tried that route and it hasn’t been good or didn’t end well one way or another. I hear you. But the truth is, I am (as we all are) getting older. And when that happens, and you’re a person who wishes to be married and hopes for children, there are thoughts that occur to you. They are not super fun.
Sometimes they’re just that – thoughts. You have them, you process them briefly, you move on, and that's enough. Sometimes, though, they get stuck in your brain and they start to monopolize the cells up there and keep you from moving on. Oh, sure, you can (mostly and usually) still function: get up in the morning, work, eat, exercise...but your brain is constantly playing the scenario of sad lonely single you in your head. And of course, it is always played against the people in your life who have what you want. You’re genuinely happy for them. You know their lives aren’t perfect. You know there are hard things and sometimes even horrible things that some of them are walking through at the moment. Still, they have joys you don’t have, and blessings you desire. And that’s hard.
This past weekend I was at a wedding. It was beautiful, it was joyful, and it was full of celebration. I am so happy for the bride and her groom. I pray for years of happiness, and that their marriage is truly fulfilling and that they are able to grow together as they grow older. I sat with my parents and grandmother for most of it (and I love them. I had no qualms about going into it that way. I knew I'd be with them). But on the day, I felt very alone. Why is that? Why could I not focus on the joy of the newlyweds? I mean, I did, but there was a constant tinge of sadness beneath it as well. I was (and maybe still am) grieving what I don’t have. Grieving and fearing that I may never have it.
I honestly pray that last line doesn’t come true. I ask (ok, sometimes it’s more like beg) God that he see fit to pair me with a spouse, that he let me be a mother, help make a home. But I can’t honestly say that I know if that’ll be true or not. I haven’t heard him make me any promises other than that I am his. And at the end of the world, that’s enough. It really is. And I know that in my head and in my heart – but right now, and for the past several weeks, and probably the next few as well, it doesn’t feel like enough. I feel incomplete and lonely. I feel left out. I feel unattractive, and like I must not be good enough for some reason (I could give you plenty, but I’ll spare you that part of my inner dialogue).
I don’t have any upswing at the end of this. I don’t feel like it’s that much of a downer, so I do apologize if that’s how it comes off to you. It’s just facts. It’s not happy, but it is factual. So, for now, that’s where I leave you. Learning to keep resting – intentionally – in what I know to be true, and trying to find a way to feel like that is truly enough.