The solitary life

Source: Wikimedia Commons

I walk a lonely path.

My parents lost interest in me when I developed my own opinions at fourteen. I couldn’t convince my husband to treat me with the dignity and kindness every human deserves. Other people failed me along the way as I looked for love and support in the wrong places.

I vacillate between feeling OK and wanting to give in to the urge surging through my veins to realize my evil greatness. For the first time, I understand the makings of a supervillain. You know that scene from Lord of the Rings where Galadriel the elf queen is holding the one ring to rule them all in her palm and she feels all the feels, then is like, “Well, I crushed that urge!” and returns peacefully to her hippie forest digs? That’s me at least once a day.

You see, I spend a lot of time feeling unlovable. Then, because I’ve had therapy and have been taught thusly, I force myself to unpack this harmful belief, to look for evidence that disproves it. Such as when mourning doves land on my balcony railing. I’ll accept that as evidence that everything is going to be alright.

How I wish I could go before the Wizard of Oz to submit my request for love. I yearn to be loved unconditionally, accepted for who I am. Does this even exist in any relationship between any two people? Because if it does, one of those entities is surely Jesus and the other is a unicorn.

My four-year-old is the president of my fan club. I literally had to create my own person to get some appreciation. Thank God for her, and this unconditional love we share. But she can’t be my savior. As her mother, it is my duty to make her feel safe, heard, and prioritized before my own needs. While her love is pure and magical and healing, it can’t be the thing that saves me.

Fortunately, I have my chosen family. Thank God for this loving uncle, this cool younger sister, and these friends who care deeply about me, listen to me vent, and boost me up when I’m spiraling. Yet, while the support I receive from my inner circle is meaningful and uplifting, it also can’t be the thing that saves me.

I know I am responsible for my own happiness. I understand that I need to figure out what happiness looks like for me. And then I need to take the steps to secure it.

Through all of these painful life experiences, I have learned something important about myself. I would rather be alone than subject myself to mistreatment. This is the lonely choice, but the smart choice.

May mourning doves land on your balcony to help you expunge the demons from your mind as well.

%d bloggers like this: