Here we find ourselves again. I’d like to say that like a fine wine, I’ve gotten better with age – but replace “better” with “lamer” and you’ve got yourself a more accurate description of my current affect. Okay, then maybe replace “lamer” with “tamer” because that sounds better and also I’m sorry I’m making you do so much work. You probably chose to read this because you thought it would relax you, and instead you’ve had to perform tasks and think abstractly. Again, my apologies. Gone are the days of being at a bar until last call, or really being at a bar at all. I find them noisy, crowded and I plot my exit within seconds of stepping in the door.
In my newly found singlehood, I became enamored with the thought of what I would do in this time. Would I wake up with a Bengal tiger in my bedroom one morning? Would I meditate and take 1,000 baths? I could eat spaghettio’s for dinner, the kind with the tiny meatballs in it that I like, and not face any judgement. While I had lofty ambitions and the world was now my fucking oyster – I came to a staggering realization: I might be boring.
Okay, replace boring with “complacent doing nothing.” And we all know I’m not truly boring cause c’mon, I’m a total firecracker and a wild card IRL. But all I’ve wanted to do with my freedom is “turtle.” Let me introduce the concept of “turtling” to you, because I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it in my blog. Firstly, I’m remembering now that this is also a term related to pooping (see urban dictionary’s definition) but this blog is not about pooping. Turtles are one of my spirit animals. I love the way they move through their world, slow and calm. Knowing and understanding there is imminent danger swimming around them and just not giving a WHAT. I like that they have the ability to retreat into their shells, but choose to live mostly outside of them. I also have a weird affinity for salads and greens, I’d seriously marry the right head of lettuce.
When I “turtle” I mean I have literally been watching so much hulu and not ever wearing pants. I work late because I know there’s not dinner on the stove or someone that is waiting for me. A lot of the time this reality is sad because I eat like a hobo when left to my own devices and I miss having my person – but it’s a life that is tolerable and been stocked full of quality friends. I’ve not been left alone to grieve and move forward but supported, loved, and lifted by new and old connections.
It got me to considering how I got to this place, and why I’m so okay here. It wasn’t that long ago that I couldn’t fill my time with enough things. At first I worried that I’d become lazy but then I came to the realization that…it’s kind of what happens when you grow up. Don’t get me wrong, I love doing things. Things are what make me tick and feel alive – things are the things that make life worth living! It’s just that I’ve come to honor and love the fact that one of my favorite past-times is to simply sit with myself.
Sometimes this involves a malty beverage, it almost always includes Netflix, and there’s a 9/10 chance my fingers are stained orange from Cheetos. Sometimes I write, sometimes I craft, and sometimes I just kick up my feet and zone the fuck out. To be able to truly not think about anything is probably the coolest thing I’ve ever accomplished in my life besides my Master’s Degree and adopting a cat I’m obsessed with who is regal AF.
I clean. A LOT. In the way that I see my space as an extension of myself so I probably tidy more than the average Joe. I’d like to say you could eat off the floors but between the three animals, there’s really a lot of hair so I wouldn’t recommend it. I’m learning to live with a roommate again which is this delicate balance of sharing a space and also having your own. In addition I watch a lot of murder shows and fall into a lot of weird YouTube holes. I poop with the door open. I starfish the fuck out of the bed. I think about going to the gym but I don’t unless it’s the night they ironically give away free pizza. I do a fabulous job of falling asleep except when I can’t and spend nights tossing and turning.
I am surviving vigorously and passionately. I am constantly riding a turbulent train of human emotion that is entirely unpredictable. One second I’m completely in control and happy and the next I open my fridge and a bundle of Kale triggers me. Then I remind myself that this is a break-up, and this is how it works. You live in a space where you are good, and you live in a space where you are not. I’m slowly learning who I am again, and the person I was before this relationship is very different from the person I am now.
I’m decompressing, I’m relaxing, and I’m respecting where I am. I know I’m still young, but I am getting older – my body is changing, my mind is changing, and so is my spirit. What I needed to feel fulfilled a few years ago, looks very different now. For the passion and action I put into the world, sometimes I need to go back into my shell. I’ve got a poster of Ginger from the Spice Girls in there so it’s not a bad place to be (and hasn’t changed since 1998, maybe I should remodel.)
I’m kind of like a Golden Girl. I’m older but much like Blanche Devereaux: I still got it. There’s much more living to be done, whether I do it in companionship with another person or not. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it a hundred times over: You can be lonely but you’re never alone. I’m not saying I’m going to be single forever, but maybe you don’t need to be in a relationship to live happily ever after. Instead of seeing this time as something that is wrong, I see “single” as an opportunity to live an authentic life and in the words of Eric Cartman, “do what I want.” I take strength in my solitude, am committed to becoming my own better half, and to live significantly even without a significant other. And I hate to get all ‘Sex & the City’ on you but sometimes you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be. Until next time kids.