There is a fear that I need to acknowledge. It is that as a decidedly single woman, I house within me the fear that I will always be single. There will be no witness to my life. There will be no audience to my triumphs nor safety in my trials. My oneness though elective it may have once been will become a choice I didn’t choose. Yet cannot undo.
After a while you can’t help but wonder, “is it me?” And after a while longer you have all but convinced yourself that it must be. There is no other reasonably logical explanation. I ask myself, “where is my lesson in this?” I dug for lessons for six months in silence while holding pieces of a broken heart in my other hand. I could just…I could breath through this hurt God if you just show me where’s the purpose in my pain? Give me a hint.
I would sit still and listen for my gut. Nothing. And another night I would fall asleep and wake up confused in my bed but somehow smelling him. Back there. And I would cry. I cried so much in that loneliness, that quiet, that yearning for the lesson that I cried myself numb. Scabbed over and thickened it took that much more effort to feel anything.
I just want to feel wanted. I remember thinking. Desirable. Dancing around the one word I was afraid to crave: loved. Love-ing had gotten me nowhere. Trusting in love had gotten my heart broken. And here we were the day before Valentine’s Day and me in red, out of breath in a shopping mall because he robbed me yet again. And again. And again.
Leaving, I told myself, was the best idea for both of you. Only on every lonely night I have to wonder if it’s true. Was there one, a someone I overlooked? Did I miss them? Did I miss love? Can I call it back? I need someone to care how my day went. I need someone to rub my back when I feel like crying. I need someone to turn off the lights with at night. I need someone who’s laugh is the third to my fifth. I need to be held. To be cherished. To be listened to. To be made love to. Don’t I deserve that?
Silence always makes me question it. What I deserve. Because when someone doesn’t even care enough to say goodbye or fuck off or anything? You feel insignificant. Maybe silence always hurt but it certainly does now, after. His silence was deafening and in it I filled the space with every negative thought one could think. I became the woman who could be walked away from. I lived up to unworthy.
So the silence from today triggered me. Caused me to have to acknowledge my fear. My fear that even though on most days I don’t believe it, that somewhere inside me lives the belief that I will never feel…
I can’t even write the words. Through my own tears. I know that happiness is my own work, I know. But I can’t love in a vacuum right? Will friendship be enough? Will my work? I need something that loves me back.
It is at precisely this point that I find myself dangerously close to negotiating. Deciding the things I wanted and needed in a partner were ready for mediation with the universe. Only that’s not right either. But how long? How long does one sustain and persist through the lonely before you set up permanent residence in solitude?
I don’t want to hear about timing. Or trusting. Or plans and purpose. I would just really like to feel loved again.