I’m in the midst of adjusting to life as a singleton. As a one-top, a wedding RSVP returned with a single regret. The latter is more dramatic than it sounds. This isn’t a regret for me, but a pile of what ifs, a swarm of delicate question marks answered with an undesirable response. I’m alone. And it’s a hefty challenge. Being single again carries the acknowledgement that things aren’t what you thought they would be, that one of you chose something other than your twosome. No matter how much you understand it, the rest of you raises strained fists against the facts. Facts. That’s all they are, I remind myself. An equation of X + Y and how it all adds up on paper, which you never were in the day to day. You prided yourself on that, after all. This matters little, of course.
It’s been quite an adjustment, to say the ridiculous least. I’m completely ready for a relationship, for flights to spots requiring a passport, for debating the merits of acupuncture while two glasses deep, for lunchtimes in the park and traffic updates sent by text. I’m not yet, however, ready for it with anyone else.
And so I tread carefully, and at a wise woman’s suggestion, I feel every pain as it comes. It’s sporadic, the bad, amazing in its momentary power, its ability to surpass professional kudos and the rare triumphant Mother’s Day. I breathe it in, feel, wait, and repeat. Those moments hit hard at times, making me wince and berate myself for not being stronger. Then they leave as the tide does, predictably full and complete. I’m still looking for the shells left on the shoreline. I know they’re there somewhere, shiny and untouched.
It’s difficult to exist online right now. There’s an overwhelming sense among the 140-charactered that life is exquisite, nothing but cotton candy stuck to the lips and effortless recovery from deaths and drama and the otherwise delicate. I’ve been at living long enough to know that isn’t real, that life more often hurls itself at you in the form of boulders rather than snowflakes. But boy, do they make it all seem just that easy.
34 Comments
Also? Don’t fret. I’m ok. :)
(hug)
I’m so glad you’re here (on-line) and writing. Big hug to you!
I’ll take any bit of Kris that you want to share. xo
Not feeling like I can say anything particularly helpful here, but hang in there, let yourself feel it all, &, as my dad would say, “Press on, regardless.” <3
I’m glad you’re here. And writing!!!!
Will be out and about in Arlington this weekend, should you need a martini or three. :)
I guess there is nothing to say but we are here and we are listening. And it has been way too long since I have seen you.
Write what you want when the spirit moves you. And ignore people who make is seem easy. It’s not.
I’m glad you’re OK and I’m ready to listen to whatever you need say.
i’m thinking of you! big big hugs and a martini if i could.
Very little that is meaningful is easy or effortless, and recovery from loss is never either of those. You’re strong enough, but you don’t need to be strong enough every moment. Big hugs to you, Kris.
I’m so sorry for this tough time you are experiencing. As a mid-thirties single woman myself, your thoughts and feelings ring so true though.
I have to say though, your writing is completely exquisite and unique. As one who does not know you, I hope that you continue writing and in longer formats or magazine essays(if you aren’t already). You have a rare talent.
I will bring bottles upon bottles (ok, probably just a box) of wine and hang out and let you cry/scream/laugh it out. I’m a great believer in wallowing, feeling better and wallowing again.
Hopefully by the time I can drink again (July), you’ll be in an entirely different place and we could drink our box of wine as true lushes rather than using it as medication.
Hugs, lady.
Also, go get some Steak-umms.
Thank you sweet loving peeps. You are just so freaking kind. I mean it!
I think feeling it is excellent advice. Me, I’m more likely to hand you a glass of wine and some chocolate, but damn it if feeling feelings isn’t right on the money.
Very pretty way of putting it all, too.
I know what you mean – but, you know what? Twitter is where I get to be happy. And funny. And tweet with fun people like you and Holly. And vent in a mysterious manner, as needed. Come over to your space here and get profound – you’re good at it. Just stay on Twitter – you’re one of the best out there.
Hang in there. And thank you for sharing how you are feeling.
I am going to quote Maya Angelou so please envision me reading this aloud to you in a Mary Katherine Gallagher voice (ala SNL).
“ Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.”
(((hugs)))
Missed you. Silly to throw out there into the ether where we both exist for the other, but I feel a kinship and I hope you feel the strength and admiration and comfort we’re all sending your way.
Oh dear, you continue to write the feelings in my head and soul. Do it for you but know you’re doing it for me too.
Girl, you know where I am. And at any moment, there is a glass (or four) waiting for you. =-) xo
Come to Palm Springs in August !! Email me … you are WELCOME and WANTED there ! Amyella’s coming …
What can I say that hasn’t been said above? Clearly, you are loved. They love you. I love you.
I’m also available for drunken sessions and late night calls. You know where to find me, Cookie. xo
“Nell said: I’m so sorry for this tough time you are experiencing. As a mid-thirties single woman myself, your thoughts and feelings ring so true though.”
Me too. It is hard at our age being single, no denying. But know that you are loved and liked and an amazing writer to boot! If you want to disappear for awhile, come visit me in Texas! (Though we’ve never met, you’re still very welcome!)
Hang in there. Hugs.
i’m really sorry that things are difficult right now. I do know about the not being ready to have somebody else in that position. When my husband died I kept my status on facebook as ‘in a relationship’ for two years. I still felt like I was, just he wasn’t with me here any more.
I didn’t let go of that until two months ago, and just after that somebody else came into my life. They didn’t come along until I was ready to see them, though. Trust your instincts.
I laughed out loud when you talked about how merry people make their lives seem in 140 characters… all the fun things they’re doing, and lovely things they’re cooking. I do it to. But beyond 140, we’re all human, life as a human sometimes blows. Often blows, in fact. Hang in there. There’s always something good to come.
I unfollow all chronically happy people. They depress me.
This would be more amusing had I not once asked a woman to a wedding as a “safety date.” Just so I wouldn’t be subject to the inquisition as to why I wasn’t in a relationship. Thus was born the immortal phrase, “Pssst, act platonic,” when I met a hot bridesmaid.
The good thing about not knowing lots of peeps in town during June? You don’t spend every Saturday in an un-airconditioned church pretending to care about some random peeps. But it’s always nice to handicap the failure rate of the marriage. I give it 2 years. At best. Hee.
Broken hearted with your head on straight, merciless, but tinged with hope. Wish I knew you well enough to offer wine and friendship. I can say that your writing is gorgeous and your 140 or less characters always make me break the office silence with a snort.
Come back to us! I’ve just gone thru the same thing and could use someone to commiserate with. It just plane sucks a big fat one.
Single Jen
i miss you, my sweet!
Oh, Kris. This post brings tears to my eyes… not only because my heart aches for you but because everything you write and feel resembles feelings so close to my own. I cry tears of relief to know that I’m not alone in my thoughts, wishes and wants. In one post you have embodied everything I have been trying to convey to people around me for years. I can’t put it in words how grateful I am to have ‘met’ you. Even in your saddest of moments you inspire and amaze me.
I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner. Take all the time you need but don’t forget to come back… your missed. Needed. And loved.
This blog is beautiful! The vocabulary you used to describe your emotions are well-said. I liked what you said here:
“I’m completely ready for a relationship, for flights to spots requiring a passport, for debating the merits of acupuncture while two glasses deep, for lunchtimes in the park and traffic updates sent by text. I’m not yet, however, ready for it with anyone else.”
Oh the barriers to relationships.