Lately, I’ve noticed a pattern of women- amazing, talented, beautiful, women- talking about being single and why it sucks. They roll their eyes when I tell them that it’s the season to be single and encourage them to enjoy every minute of it. They tell me I don’t get it. That I’ve just forgotten what it’s like, now that I have someone.
This got me thinking back on the last time I felt really….single.
I remember the day and I remember the moment because they were significant. Significant in the way that having your world flipped upside down would leave a date stamp in your memory bank. Single in the sense that you know it’s really over, for good this time. No back and forth, no more games, no more tears, over it, and exhausting, and refreshing all at the same time, single.
I remember feeling strangely out of place in my own home; both the apartment and my body. I remember having to buy cat food, walking aimlessly in the grocery store and buying yellow lilies (which ironically symbolize healing),and two bottles of wine- one red, one white.
I specifically remember forgetting the cat food.
I remember driving back to my empty apartment, placing the lilies on my coffee table and falling on my couch. The life around me didn’t feel my own, so I poured myself a glass of Pinot Grigio.
I don’t even drink Pinot Grigio.
I remember laying in silence for what it felt like an hour. I couldn’t feel anything, but that felt good. There wasn’t anyone coming home, there wasn’t anyone I could run to. It was just me, the wine, and a cat who wasn’t even mine.
The fear begin to creep in. The fear that whispers “you are all by yourself” and makes you want to do irrational things, like call and beg.
But suddenly it hit me.
I was alone with myself, but I wasn’t lonely with someone. So I poured another glass and watched my old life burst into flames.
Some women are lost in the fire, some women are built from it. But we all get to choose which woman we want to be.