The “In-between” Space
It’s hard, talking about it—it feels like the white elephant in not just the room, but every single one of my relationships, and it’s just exhausting—my dating life, or the glaringly absence of one, as it were. Because it’s how we are wired, in our society, to think and to see people. You “should” be with someone. A half of “a whole,” a couple, a relationship, and god forbid you’re not, because then you’re, well, you’re not, and we need to “fix you.” Granted, no one actually says this to your face, but it’s felt. No matter what you’re doing, or have done, somehow your singleness is “your fault,” or there’s something you’re “not doing right.” It can’t be anything else now can it? Frankly, I’m very tired of the conversation, and I’m VERY over the completely unwelcome and unhelpful “advice” people give me like that will somehow be the key to “fix me.” To be clear, I am in love with the person I have become and grown into these past nine years I’ve spent finding myself being newly single. I am NOT broken, and I am NOT “less than” by not being part of a relationship. With that said, I’m not willing to settle (not any more—I settled, without meaning to, in my marriage for eleven years, and I don’t intend to spend another day of my life doing so), which is the biggest reason I am still single. I am self aware, and I have spent half of my life going through some incredibly hard shit, and then some, so this woman isn’t willing to accept anything less than the genuine article. Which just means it’s harder to find and I’ve tried my best to make my peace with the fact that this means more time spent alone—and I am; I’m learning to find peace here in the “in-between.” My life right now feels like I’m in the waiting room, for so many things, that I am waiting and hoping will come to pass, sooner rather than later, but in the meantime, trying my damndest to not go crazy in the waiting. (Apologies as that sentence alone was insane itself.)
Do not pity me. Yes, it is sad, and there has been so much loss and hard shit along this journey. But it has also come with so much growth, and so much love, even with each loss, such love.
I know I haven’t written in a very long time, and I still have a very vulnerable, difficult post I need to share (soon), but as I sit here in this moment, these words find themselves needing to come to the surface, so I will make space for them now. I find myself grieving right now; not even a person, so much, as “what could have been” with a new person I met. In the almost nine years I have been dating, it’s given me so many opportunities to meet people, and so many “what ifs,” if you will, with some incredible humans (and, the flip side of that coin, some not so incredible humans). Thankfully, the first list is much longer than the latter. With that said, I feel like there’s no space for the “what ifs” in life. And maybe it’s the romantic in me that’s even pausing to think about it now, but I do think about this, especially as I’m getting older and the amount of times life allows you to meet someone and have an absolutely incredible moment with them and find genuine true connection, how do we not then take a moment to grieve the “what if” of what could have been with that person? It feels that we’ve become so quick to brush it away, to tell the person who’s grieving, “well they weren’t meant for you, then.” But do we ever pause and stop and say, “It sounds like there could have been something there with this person. I’m sorry that didn’t turn into something more.” I don’t know anymore. How to think about dating, how to talk about dating. But I am tired of hearing the same bullshit. If one more person tells me I need to lower my standards, i.e., settling, I will fucking scream. So, if you’re reading this, and you are “an offender,” or have told your friend “what to do” to “help them,”—please stop. Please just be empathetic and listen. And say, “I’m sorry. That must be so hard.” That’s it. We don’t need you to “fix it.” We don’t need your advice (we already get an ear-full). We need you to just be there. That’s it.
As I’m coming out of a disappointing weekend, and a disappointing trip, I find, even here, despite another person disappointing me, I am hopeful. Against all odds. And grateful. So incredibly grateful to the human beings who have showed up for me these past few months. It’s been an incredibly difficult transitionary period for me, coming out of what has felt like never ending hard shit and chaos for the past three years since I was told I was losing my townhouse, and even before that. But in the few months I have found some calm following the storm, I have found an exciting new direction and goal, and it’s both scary and exciting, but it’s also helping me to find my way in this hard space that is the “in-between.” I promise to share more when I’m ready to, but for now, I wanted to share this.
I believe I stand in this in-between space representing all that can exist outside of what society would like to tell us is, “all there is,” and still finding a beautiful and fulfilled existence, even here. There is more.
When I think about these words, and how they’re perceived/taken by my reader, I know there’s nothing I can say that will change the way that these words are taken, or how people will continue to see me, or other single people like me. What I want, more than anything, to leave you with is this—Do not pity me. Yes, it is sad, and there has been so much loss and hard shit along this journey. But it has also come with so much growth, and so much love, even with each loss, such love. I have lived more in these nine years than so many get to in a lifetime. And I am so damn proud of the woman who’s writing these words today. No, I am not in a relationship. And no, I don’t have it all figured out. But please don’t find me sad. Please, see me as the strong, resilient woman who hasn’t let life keep her down and who still, unyieldingly, believes in love. And believes she will one day find a partner worthy of said love. Because that is the woman I am. Single, yes. Sad, sometimes. But not “sad”—not sad for reinventing her life after her husband walked out nine years ago. I believe I stand in this in-between space representing all that can exist outside of what society would like to tell us is, “all there is,” and still finding a beautiful and fulfilled existence, even here. There is more.
All that said, this is still hard. And it takes a toll as I am, “wired for belonging and connection,” to quote Brené Brown. I still long for connection and love, so I am grieving someone, or the “what could have been” with this person. And as small as that is in the grand scheme, it feels like the moment I needed to finally share some of the things that have been weighing on my heart lately.
For those here with me in this season of singleness, I hope you feel seen and comfort in these words, even if our experiences aren’t the same.
For those who are not, I hope you read these words with maybe a different appreciation for the single experience, and I hope a different approach to how you talk to your single friends going forward.
And to my dear friends who keep showing up, I love you. I couldn’t do this without you. And I hope I never have to.
Here’s to the hard moments in life, even the sad moments. As unfortunate as they are, I also know they are temporary, and they are the other side of the coin that is some of life’s sweetest moments. Here’s to all of the as of yet unknown, sweet, happy, joyful moments of life (and love) I still have ahead. I’m here, and I’m ready.
Love always,
Me