I’ve been single for going on five years now. And truthfully, really more like nine with a six month detour just to make sure. HOLY SHIT. Eight years? Is that right? …yep. Eight years, I did the math. For a long time it really bothered me. The loneliness which loomed all through my adolescence was much harder to keep at bay when I lived alone as an adult. And then somewhere in there, probably right about the time Pluto transited my 12th house Venus, something snapped.
I’ve always liked – no, needed to spend a lot of time alone, but for years, decades really, much of my time alone was spent thinking about other people, fantasizing imaginary conversations, revising actual ones, real co-dependent stalker stuff. And then finally, just a couple years ago, the elastic band couldn’t stretch anymore. It snapped. It stopped. Silence. Blissful silence.
Rom-coms are still my favorite movie genre, there’s nothing I like better than watching two people overcome their fear of being seen by someone and releasing into seeing. I like being around couples, I think it’s one of the best, most bravest things to do, to love someone. Mad respect to anyone engaged in that act, honestly and genuinely working to know and be known. I even miss it, but the pursuit of it or the lack of it no longer drives me.
Like a lot of people I fell down as a child and bumped my heart pretty hard. And it took a long time to heal, mostly because my approach was just dead off. If you have a sunburn you can’t heal it by trying to fix the sun. If you have a broken heart you can’t heal it by trying to fix other people or trying to get them to love you. The worst part of this essential truth is that it’s totally obvious. ONCE YOU SEE IT. But seeing it – and sometimes you have to see it a hundred kajillion times before it really truly sticks – is much harder than it should be.
I’ve spent a lot of money to get people to tell me the same damned thing over and over until I finally took it in. I’d bet money there’s someone reading these words right now thinking they don’t apply to to him or her when they do. I know that because that used to be me. I never could have imagined that being happy on my own really was the only way to be happy. If you can’t be happy on your own than how are you ever going to be happy with someone else? And if you’re happy on your own than what do you need someone else for?
Trick question. Love and need are not the same thing. I’m happy on my own but now I know I could be happy with someone else too. I just don’t need someone else to be happy.
I used to think I knew everything about love, and now I know I know nothing. I know all I need to know and it’s nothing. And it’s the most beautiful glorious nothing I ever encountered. It’s all mine, but I can share.