I’m sitting here, its not quite nine at night. The dogs are inside and have already made themselves comfortable. Molly in her chair and Bella stretched out near my feet. Dinner is long out of the way and I’ve almost finished what should be, but probably won’t, my last cup of coffee for the day. Another lively Saturday night at home.
I read an article a little while ago about women who are single for a while are more content. I had actually read a similar article months ago. After reading both articles, and considering my situation, I must concur on what the articles are saying.
Now, it is true that my son does still live at home, so I am not alone in that respect but am alone as far as relationships are concerned. Plus the fact that my son does have a life and isn’t always here.
Before my husband died, I was somewhat accustomed to being alone. He was a long haul truck driver and was out a minimum of three weeks at a time. At that time, we did not have smart phones so the best we had were phone conversations. Lots of phone conversations.
Whether he was out on the road, or enjoying some home time, I tried to cater to him and his wishes. He was a bit of a controlling sort, which could get annoying. But you know, that love thing. My husband has been dead almost four years.
The first year was a very real adjustment period. The lack of phone calls was hard. He was one who called every chance he got. He had a hands free device, so he was never holding the phone, but I still worried over the number of calls. My brothers once timed him, he called every five minutes. But to be fair, he was stopped, it was Thanksgiving and he wasn’t home. Some of those calls would annoy me greatly, when he would ask what I was doing, didn’t I have things to do, why was I out walking, didn’t I need to be home?
There was also the grieving to work my way through. I think there is a part of me that may still be struggling a bit with that. Wondering if there wasn’t something different I could have done. If I could have been more supportive. If I shouldn’t have just told him to come home when he was feeling so sick.
Survivor’s guilt is a monster and a demon to deal with.
Time really has passed somewhat quickly. When I say the words, four years, it doesn’t seem possible. Then I take the time to look back, and see how far I’ve come in that time. Emotionally, physically, mentally, all have grown stronger. Ever so often the little voice that reminds me that I’m alone and should be lonely sneaks in and starts whispering all those little comments that are meant to make me feel bad about this single status. Those, you don’t have anyone to take trips with, you don’t have anyone to just run errands with, you don’t have anyone to wake up to or just sit out on the porch and enjoy coffee with. The voice that whispers, you know you’re lonely, admit it.
My son tries to echo that voice when he calls me a recluse and tells me I need to get out of the house and meet people.That usually earns him a “But people are scary” comment as I pour yet another cup of coffee and walk away from him.
When I read that article today, I had to smile. Because I felt every word. I understood every sentiment that it was bringing to light, or in the very least back to the front of the thought process. While that little voice is right in some of the things I don’t have and that I miss, it is wrong in that without them, I’m less. You can read the article here: https://www.higherperspectives.com/women-remain-single-happiest-2609416829.html
On my own, I can come and go as I please. Should I take a notion to hike the woods behind the house and stay gone for hours, I can. If I choose instead to go hike a green way or the trails at the state park, I can. And stay gone as long as I wish. If I choose to stay home and read or play solitaire, I can. I do my household chores on my time schedule. I can sit and write for hours with no worries about having to jump and take care of someone else and their needs. I can go to bed when I wish and stay in bed as long as I like. Especially now that I’ve retired.
There were many times when I had wished to be able to take part in events at church, but couldn’t. Partly due to working and partly due to a husband who would comment, “I can’t go why are you?” No worries now.
I’m a person who loves wearing hats. Mom said I got that from dad. It would drive my husband crazy. His oft said, “You aren’t wearing that are you?” which of course I was, I no longer have to be concerned about.
Being single, offers me a world of opportunities that I wouldn’t have if I were involved with someone. I can participate in charity events that are important to me, that might not be to others. I can get as deeply involved as I wish without fear. I can study, learn and use what I’ve learned in my writing. I have the time, to become a better me. And if at some point, someone comes along that can understand the me I have and am becoming, and we desire spending time together, there isn’t a thing wrong with that.
This pandemic thing has caused problems with some of that, or at least in the way things have to be handled, but it hasn’t stopped it completely. People still have needs, for food, for money, for jobs, for toys. It just has to be handled safely.
As a Christian, I know the Bible speaks often of being single. Here are links to two articles discussing the single status.
I will admit, that even as I get better and more content each day, there are days that are difficult. There are days when I hunger for long conversations. There are days when I wish for someone to take those long car rides with. Then I turn around, pour another cup of coffee and make my plans for the day. Today, I did laundry, I met with someone who is going to try and repair my wood stove, and I wrote, a lot. I drank a lot of coffee and I made long roads into a better insight in myself. I realized that today, and most days, I’m alone, but not lonely. I’m content.