Doing exactly what I want
Don’t care what you think of me
I’m free, free as a bird
I’m free, free as a bird
Music Monday – Free as a Bird
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Category Archives: single life
I need a new word for single
I have heard so many theories on the question of whether we are complete on our own, or only complete if we are with another. Because of all the pressure to be partnered, so many people walk around feeling badly if they are on their own, and many others stay where they don’t belong for fear that they will be seen as a failure outside of relationship. All of this misses the point. What is most important is that each of us lives a life that is true to path, whatever that means to us. For some, their sacred purpose is inextricably linked to love relationship. It is there that they excavate and humanifest their deepest meaning. Yet others are called in a different direction and find their purpose in their creative life, in their work, in their individual spiritual practice. Everyone’s soul-scriptures are unique to their own journey. The important thing in life is not whether we find the “one”, but whether we find the path. To each their own way home… (Jeff Brown)
I both like this quote and am irked by it.
Mostly, I like it. Because I do believe that the most important thing is to find our own path. And that often our main struggle is not only allowing ourselves to see the path but with finding the courage and the confidence to walk it.
I am irked by it because to me it implies that we are either meant to be in a relationship or meant to be on a solitary path. Surely, there is a lot more coming and going than that? Seems to me that our purpose can be creative and spiritual whether we are in a relationship or not in a relationship. This state of single hood is neither merely a resting place between relationships (a sort of sideline where one recovers or regroups) or a life-long choice of radical (but lonely) independence.
I was at a work slash social networking event this week and was asked about my living situation. When I said I lived alone, the follow up question was, “are you seeking?”
Caught a bit off guard (I think because I was in work mode) I answered, “yes, but only for quality.”
What the ?? Like my other choice was to say, “yes and I’ll take anyone, thanks!” Or worse, “I’m looking for real quality, not like the rest of you!”
I think what I was trying to find a way to express was that yes, I’m single and yes I would like to share my life with a partner but I am also not unhappy about being single. Oh, and also if I say I’m happily single then that doesn’t mean that I’m committing to a life of being a confirmed woman bachelor (is that even a thing?).
In retrospect, I suppose I could have come out with a lot worse words than “quality” to encapsulate all that. But I sure wish there was a better word. A word that doesn’t require all that extra explanation, which the person who asked me probably didn’t really care that much about anyway.
A word that says “yes, I have found and am walking my path which right now is by myself but which I would love to share with someone but which is not diminished in any way by the lack of that person.”
Too bad that’s not what our society calls single. It’d be a lot faster answer.
Going big with the love
Since it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d start with a Christmas story.
In December, there was a video going around on social media about a girl in kindergarten in the US who’s only Christmas present wish was for her Dad to come home from Iraq. Santa shows up at her school classroom with gifts for all the kids and then, in the big reveal, takes off the beard and hat and it turns out to be her Dad. Cue crying.
Seriously, cue crying. Which I totally did since her reaction and her Dad’s was really heart-melting to witness. Absolute love and joy.
But, then I got to thinking. How confusing for this kid. Does she now think her Dad is Santa? What about the other kids in the class – do they think this guy is Santa? Or, how many of those kids were now asking, “hey, is Santa even real? WTF?”
Which may have been fine if I’d kept my thoughts to myself (a place I seem to end up at a lot). But I was out with a group of girlfriends who all, except for me and one other woman, have kids. And we were talking about this video and I shared my thoughts and said that I have never been able to sort out what I would do if I was a parent with regards to the whole Santa and Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny gig.
I mean, you basically lie to your kids. At the same time you are trying to build a sense of trust with them and teach them not to lie. I remember how I felt when I figured out that Santa wasn’t real. Like the butt of a practical joke; too stupid to figure out what everyone else already knew.
On the other hand, Santa is fun for kids. The excitement, leaving him treats (and some for the reindeer), using the NORAD site to track his progress on Christmas Eve. Who wants to miss out on that?
As you can imagine, there was a deafening awkward silence at my statement punctuated only by the sympathetic glance from my also-childless friend, who clearly knew better than me to not voice such things. I’m not sure if I sounded critical, I certainly didn’t mean to be. I was genuinely interested in how these women squared that circle.
Alas, no one picked up my awkward words as they lay there on the table staring helplessly back at me. There was just awkward silence as everyone just took another drink from their cocktails and the evening continued on. So, anyway ….
Later, also via Facebook, I found an article about how people explain Santa to their kids as they get older. It proposed that we all are the spirit of Santa together. When you’re a kid, your parents play the spirit of Santa. When you get older, you learn that everyone is the spirit of Santa and we all contribute to making the magic of Christmas. It is bigger than just a guy who delivers presents. It’s the sharing and gifts and gratitude we all create our loved ones.
Which brings me to Valentine’s Day. And making the spirit of Valentine’s Day bigger than just chocolate, consumerism and couples. It brings me to Generosity Day. To bringing more love into the world, in all its various forms. Couples and families, friends and strangers. To random acts of kindness. To sharing ourselves instead of our stuff. To the pause in a busy day to really connect with another person. To buying the stranger behind you in the drive-though a coffee. To taking the time to listen. To hugs and smiles. To going big with the love. In a hundred small ways.
Maybe it’ll last longer than just one day.
A single sunset
It was almost two years ago that I came smack up against my shame gremlins.
I was on a similar “break from the rainy wet coast for some sun on a tropical island” vacation and I had brought Brene Brown’s book on shame with me. I didn’t really think I had an issue with shame but Brene’s other book on letting go of other’s expectations of me helped me so much and so I thought I’d give the shame book a read.
One of the exercises said to outline things that you don’t want to be seen as. The first three on my list – fat/ugly, financially irresponsible and stupid seemed pretty self-explanatory as reflections of perfectionism. All are subjective in that they change from situation to situation largely dependent on how I feel about myself. On how secure I feel.
And then there was the fourth – single. Not subjective but a cold, hard fact that I had been banging my head on over and over without realizing it.
It was both a moment of sheer horror and sheer revelation. A naked, exposed moment of vulnerability. A wave of hot, flushing cheeks, of an acknowledgement of deep pain, the breaking of a dam of long held-back emotions and an overwhelming urge to run and hide forever.
But, also a moment of great hope. Of the beginning of a journey to ask why something which is not shameful should make me feel that way. And, the beginning of accepting that expecting myself to be brilliant, thin, financially padded and married might just be the source of unhappiness and anxiety, rather than the fact that I am not any of those things.
I am reminded of that pivotal moment here on this tropical island. This place that celebrates couples. Of honeymoons and 50th wedding anniversaries. Of couples discounts and romantic sunsets.
To be honest, the first few days were a bit of a jolt of “I don’t belong here” and “this isn’t my world”. And so, as I have done again and again over these past two years, I have had to set aside what I think my world is supposed to be and ask myself what do I want my world to actually be?
So far, my rain break world has included overcoming anxiety about wearing a wetsuit so I can snorkel with a manta ray, lazing on the beach, exploring some sacred places on this island, good talks with one of my best friends, and last night, standing near the top of one of the highest places on earth with the sun setting on one side of me and the full moon rising on the other.
A moment of perfect balance and beauty. A moment where I was filled with gratitude that I am smart enough, thin enough, financially responsible enough and singularly me enough to stand in that moment in perfect contentment.
On becoming officially weird
I’ve always felt that since I live alone, I need to be extra vigilant about becoming too weird.
Don’t acquire too many cats. Check.
Don’t talk to yourself out loud. Check.
Don’t get too attached to a body pillow. Check.
But yesterday I was forced to acknowledge that I may have officially become weird.
It didn’t seem like that at first. We had a light dusting of snow where I work and as I crossed the parking lot I noticed that my Fluevog shoes were creating really funky footprints in the snow.
So, I stopped to take some pictures. (mental note: this may have been the point where I veered off into weirdsville)
Anyway, I was making snowy fluevog footprints in the parking lot and bending over to check out good angles for a shot when the CFO of my workplace came over to make sure I was okay.
I got halfway into an explanation of what I was doing – making snowy fluevog prints for a photo – when it occurred to me that my explanation may not be making me sound less strange but just plain batshit crazy.
I may have just officially become weird.
Check out the cool shot I got, though!
And, here are my favourite pair of Fluevogs (so far) …
My best Christmas ever
I know that people usually say, “this was the best Christmas ever”, kind of like how the Olympics are always the best Olympics ever, but I seriously think this may have been my best Christmas ever.
Christmas for me means a trip to the cold east to be with my family of origin. And, there is nothing like visiting the whole family together at the same time to make you feel like you’re in a merry festive mine field of subconscious triggers and childhood emotional flashbacks.
Food triggers (voluntarily eat salad? Never!). Emotional triggers (please don’t tell that embarrassing story from my childhood again!). Family stereotyping (she’s the messy one).
But each holiday trip over the past few years has been an interesting barometer on how I’m doing tackling this journey of whole-hearted living.
The food is slowly getting better. I can say out loud “no, really, don’t tell that story again because this is how it makes me feel”. And, “you’re the messy one, she’s the responsible one and I’m the independent one” kind of breaks down and falls apart when we start having real conversations about real life.
But there was one thing that hadn’t changed. And that was that it was again just me traveling. No husband/wife/partner. Just the single one.
I have always felt that lack-of-partner gap. The extra space in the family picture. The Christmas gifts signed only by me. The only single around a table of couples. The vague feeling of failure, of differentness, a sense of not yet achieving grown-up status. And, of sadness that somehow that one thing defined my progress over the past year instead all of successes and struggles.
And then this year, about halfway through the week, I noticed that feeling hadn’t shown up. I felt totally okay being just me. I didn’t need to be anything but me. Not thinner, not more financially responsible and not married.
And, I enjoyed every single part of the week. The sleigh ride in the freezing cold but beautiful snowy woods. Glass beading with my sister. Taking my niece for her first facial. Telling family stories around the table (loaded with food, of course!). We even managed to get a great group family photo with everyone smiling at once.
I’m not sure what changed over the past year. Or, what changed in me over the past year. Or when exactly I changed. Maybe all those nights of telling myself “I am enough” finally allowed my heart to believe it.
But I’m glad it changed. And, I think I might do this happy Christmas thing again next year.
Music Monday – Dancing with Myself
Love this cover by Nouvelle Vague!
Well, there’s nothing to lose
And there’s nothing to prove
Dancing a-with myself!
Music Monday – broken down the middle of my heart
For all of us who have had our hearts broken down the middle, Ingrid Michaelson nails it in song.
Embracing my inner Princess
A few weeks ago I fell at work and hurt myself a bit. Actually, I fell twice in the same spot. More proof I am slow learner but probably also a result of some combination of the awesome shoes I was wearing and the 70-year-old flooring at work.
Which to me clearly says that someone needs to replace the flooring in that spot because I shouldn’t have to go to work in anything less than awesome shoes. Just sayin’.
I am happy to report that I did not fracture my kneecap. Actually, I am very happy to report that I did not fracture my kneecap! Although I did have the realization that I probably need more sleep when I actually dozed off for a moment lying on the x-ray slab waiting to see if the radiologist was happy with the pictures. I couldn’t help it; it was so quiet and peaceful and cell-phone free at the clinic. I wonder if you can rent space there. But, I digress.
My knees are almost back to 100% after a week of avoiding stairs and another few weeks of going slowly and using the handrails. No biggie. Except maybe for the fact that the weekend after I fell I had to go to two sporting events at BC Place, Vancouver’s stadium. Which has more stairs than one of those M.C. Escher prints.
Which is ironic since there is an amazing statue of Terry Fox at the Stadium, a guy for whom a ramp was clearly okay. It’s like they’re saying, “Listen, Terry Fox ran halfway across Canada (a marathon a day), on one leg with cancer. Now, get your ass from gate B to gate E without so much bitching.”
My knees have bounced back nicely for which I am grateful. What is taking longer is my back, my lower back. I think my back muscles were all like WTF?! It’s healing but it’s still sore, especially if I sit for too long or try to lift something heavy from ground level.
In my new spirit of awareness that “asking for help does not mean sacrificing your independence on the altar of weakness”, I have had to ask for help with the lifting and carting that comes with daily life.
Which has left me feeling kind of like a Princess because I don’t really look like I need help, and I can lift things above my head and carry stuff. I just can’t really get it from ground level to mid-level. At least with my knee limp I looked like I really should be taking the elevator. Or, creeping along by the railing at a snail’s pace at BC Place. Again, my thanks to that annoying charming streak of stubbornness that I have.
And then there’s that part of me that says “wow, you can ask for help and people are nice enough to help!” Which has been lovely but maybe dangerous because I’m a bit worried that I’ve awakened my inner Princess and that things could easily get pretty ugly pretty fast. I can see how really rich people can just get used to having people do things for them. Cook, shop, drive, tweet. Whatever.
I’d be more worried except that while I’m lucky enough to have friends who will help lift things, these are also the same friends who will say, “yeah, you can totally do that on your own and I’ll be right here on the sideline cheering you on”.
I just hope they’re there the next time I have to get from gate B to gate E.
Celibate or Slutty – a single girl’s choice
I’ve been enjoying a blog called One Thousand Single Days by Vanessa Katsoolis who has decided to stay single and celibate for 1000 days. Vanessa’s journey is to explore being just herself without the distraction and focus (and heartbreak?) of love. I applaud her decision to focus on herself for a while.
I was watching her in an interview today (great job, Vanessa!) and noticed that the word “single” and “celibate” seemed to be linked together and somewhat interchangeable.
Which got me thinking … if heels-over-your-head sex with the person you are in love with is not an option – what’s are the choices for a single girl?
For me, celibate ain’t it! I like sex. I like the intimacy, the sensuality, the touch, the give and take of pleasure, the sheer giggly fun and even the cuddling. Yup, I admit it – I’m a snuggler.
But, I have also never been one to hook up with a different person every weekend. Um, or every month even. So, single and sowing my oats seems unrealistic and a lot of pressure for me. Plus, now that I’m in my 40s I just can’t stay up really late every night and still function at work the next day (geez, could I sound any more boring?!).
Don’t get me wrong; one night stands can certainly be fun. But, they do kind of lack heart or soul after a while. I mean, I like to at least LIKE the person in order to have sex with them. It’s not like I’m there solely for the conversation but the mind is probably the most important sex organ for me so it needs a bit of stimulation, too.
I once was hooking up with a guy who was sweet and sexy and interesting and then I stumbled upon the fact that he didn’t believe in evolution. When he revealed that he believed that the earth was only 6,000 years old my brain shut down every erogenous zone in my body.
Friends with benefits is a great option, if you can find it. Two friends, who like each other and find each other sexy and interesting but who don’t have the expectation of commitment. As they say, nice job if you can get. But, there’s the rub and not in a nice massage rub kind of way. It’s a hard balance to strike. And, when one person’s expectations change, in can be a train wreck of hurt feelings.
And then there’s open relationships. I have great admiration for couples who trust and communication is strong enough for an open relationship. I’m not sure I could do that. But as a single woman, it has provided some pretty fun nights. So, my hats off to you (and sometimes some of my other clothes).
I’m not sure where that leaves us singles. But, I know for sure that while celibate is one option, I am pretty thankful we’ve moved passed the days when it’s the only option. At least here in my part of the world. And while sometimes my celibate stretches go on longer than I might choose, I’ll take no sex over bad sex any day – and that includes no-self-respect sex.
A good friend recently said to me that if you passed around a bowl of all different kinds of candy, we would all choose something different and that we should celebrate that variety.
Here’s to your sweet tooth.
A Fish and a Bicycle 