Sunday, February 21, 2010
Being alone is difficult. We're taught to avoid, even fear it, as we grow up in this culture. It is couples, groups, families that we are shown as the positive ideals. And, those things are truly comforting. It's nice to feel included and wanted, to be among people who share interests, situations or simply enjoy our company. The image of the man or woman who spends his or her life alone is so often negative, invoking even more fear through the mysterious solitude they inhabit. And, as a woman, I'm even more aware of this since I, like so many, was provided a model for adulthood in which caring for someone else was the most important thing one could do. I embraced that wholeheartedly and, still do in lots of ways. It's not wholly a bad thing-otherwise it wouldn't create the happiness it often does. But, being alone for the first time in my life, for longer than I have been before... The impulse to find someone else or something else to hold my world up is a strong one. It is truly uncomfortable, even scary, to consider months and years stretching out without finding that piece. But, like with so many other things I'm making myself get used to over the last two years, to do what I am afraid of is the best option and, I believe, will result in the most growth and is exactly what I need to face head-on. I keep coming back to the question of what it is that I keep going for, keep getting up every day for. And, so far, the answer 'myself' hasn't felt like a good enough reason. But, maybe that's the point-it needs to become a good enough reason, one that even inspires happiness. Because, after all, we only ultimately have ourselves.