I’m OK Being Alone

And now I shall promptly contradict myself.

I miss being married.

I miss married life. I liked being married. I loved it actually. There was a comfort in it, a predictability, a secure calmness, a complacent kind 0f life-is-good feeling. I loved hopping in the car with my husband and heading up to the cottage. I loved when he came home at night. I loved when we'd eat dinner together. I loved how I didn't have to be all-perfect for him to come up to me and kiss me from behind. I loved how he helped out, like a second set of hands. Most of all, I loved watching him be a father to Oliver. There is nothing like the father of your child — whom you are in love with — love the child you created together.

Do not to tell me I need to find how to be alone. Do not give me ideas of things I can do alone. I've been alone for a long time. I've kept myself busy. I've learned to do things I have never had to do.

There are times I am envious at times of those who are happily married. It used to hurt a lot to see other families. I couldn't watch them without tears. I've grown past that now. I moved into a sort of acceptance of my situation. I enjoy sleeping alone, having the bed all to myself. I enjoy having not to consult with anyone about any thing I do or choose. I'm independent. I make plans, and there's a freedom to be able to do what I want, when I want.

Maybe I'm glad Matt is not around anymore. "Face it." he said once. "You weren't happy." Food for thought.

I have a friend who has a wonderful husband. I love being around them. It doesn't make me feel sad, instead it gives me hope that I can have a family again. She told me once, "Andrea, you deserve to have someone who can't imagine taking a breath on this Earth without you." What a beautiful thought. What a beautiful dream she offered me. I do want that. Some might even say God is preparing a husband and step-father at this very moment.

I want to be married again. I do. I want a life partner. I loved having a best friend to live with and share my life with. That is not weakness or instability or insecurity or co-dependence. I am not on the hunt for a husband. I'm not crying because I don't have one. I'm not staying in bed with the covers over my head, never liked that anyway. I'm living my life, seeing friends, hanging with my son, enjoying time by myself. I'm preparing myself, not for a husband, not to be a great wife to someone some day, but to be the best person I can possibly be. I am clearing away the wreckage of my past so that I can be joyful again — something I have only fleetingly felt in the last few years.


True joy.


True peace.

The ability to look people in the eye.

The ability to thrive, not just survive.

I'm living. I'm looking inward for strength, not outward. I'm not looking for anyone to "complete" me, to fill me, to make me whole. I know only my God can do that. I know that only when I can be a whole person, alone, will I ever be ready to be with anyone else. Maybe I am already whole but moving thru the corridors of grief. If I never find that mate or the marriage I miss, I will be OK.

No matter what, I will be OK.

Actually, I am OK.