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Mini
Article on Loneliness from
"A-Woman's-Life"
Loneliness and the Single Girl by Tami Marple
I had attended several weddings and baby
showers by the time I was in my thirties. A lot of the events seemed to be set
up all in a nice neat little row. While I'd been thrilled for my friends, my
mounting frustrations and insecurities overwhelmed me those long lonely
afternoons while I watched and participated in the heartfelt celebrations. Life
just didn't seem very fair as I was only a starry-eyed attendee at these
affairs.
I remember over and over again acting as though I was perfectly fine and didn't
care that I was still single and childless. I always managed a smile, but also
seemed to find myself seated at the table where someone had to make a big event
over my life and the fact that I wasn't married. Always being plagued with the
same old questions about whether or not I was dating? Had I met any eligible
gentlemen lately? What was I looking for? Why was I being so picky? And the list
would go on and on.
But it was more than that; other friends were having babies. I felt left behind,
out of place, and more than a little jealous. I felt sickened by it all.
Miserably lonely.
How long could this continue?, I thought, imagining my friends in their cute
little houses, husbands by their sides, kitchens with all the latest goods, and
closets full of cute little baby clothes.
Eventually my grumblings grew into a full-blown pity party. In my misery and
frustration I found myself asking, "All my friends have someone special in their
life, but what about me? Why do I have to be content with just myself?" It was
the culmination of years of feeling left-out, the fifth-wheel,
the-only-one-without-a-date emotions hurled down my throat. I had grown weary of
waiting for a mate and wearier still of having to explain to people why I
hadn't.
After several years of marrying my friends and family off I had had it; it was
my turn, but it wasn't happening. As a matter of fact, it didn't happen for
years. I remember going through serious thoughts that there must be something
wrong with me. I got along fine with all my friends' husbands and had several
male friends through work. I was the oldest of all my friends and the only one
who
was still single.
After time I committed myself to being content with my marital status, then my
best friend got engaged. Everyone became consumed by wedding preparations and
the vast planning started all over again: picking out dresses, a reception hall,
and a band; hearing about diamonds and china and honeymoon plans. Once again,
envy started growing in the pit of my stomach. She was only a year younger.
There had always been a bit of competition in our relationship, and she'd beaten
me to the punch on this one.
I had to remind myself I didn't have to feel shame over being single. I didn't
have to worry that my life didn't match up to everyone's expectations. I didn't
have to succumb to their fears that I'd be miserable or incomplete. It was much
easier to celebrate my best friend's wedding when I remembered I had nothing to
be ashamed of.
More than anything else, I needed to, and did, become thankful for the qualities
of everyday life. Simple things I'd long overlooked—sunsets, stars, morning
dew—became vivid. I marveled at the muggy summer rains and the marvelous cotton
candy pink sunset that followed an afternoon thunderstorm. On a family vacation
to Mexico, I got caught in a rain shower on a secluded beach; I stood in the
turquoise waves and lavished the clear, drenching rain. On one evening, I sat
alone in a hot tub of a rental beach house, in awe over more stars than I'd ever
seen before. I turned off the jets on the hot tub and listened to the waves,
watching the moonlight rise and fall with each crash.
While I was still struggling with being single—I had always maintained that
mountaintop experience—I had learned something about being content with where I
am right now. I had realized I didn't need to waste my life by waiting around
for someone to come and make it worth living. After all life itself is a
beautiful thing.
Oh, by the way, I stayed single until I was in my forties. Ironically, when I
did meet the man whom I married, all of my friends had been married and
divorced. Some of them were working on their second and one of them on her third
marriage. | |
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