A Different Struggle
It was midday on April 9th when a single friend forwarded me an article titled, "The Parents Are Not All Right" and knowing about my blog, was curious to my thoughts.
The boldly-stated title made me wince, and scanning the article, I felt that all-too-familiar twist in my gut.
They don’t understand the depth of their own privilege.
When asked to explain what I meant by the word privilege I struggled to articulate what I was feeling and put words to it. Luckily Google and Oxford helped me out, stating it is “a special advantage not enjoyed by everyone.”
I won’t pretend to know the author’s struggle. It would be impossible for me to even begin to try. I don’t know how it feels to be at that point in their story. I’m not discrediting her pain, or the obstacles any parent is encountering each day. And I’m quite certain no parent is seeing their current situation as a ‘special advantage.’
With the stress of a global pandemic in which “everything in moderation” has been thrown so far out the window and I can only imagine it is mind-numbingly difficult.
In the article, the author makes incredibly valid points, writing of an existing problem of balancing work life and home life that has been amplified since Covid-19 shifted everyone’s normal.
What I find interesting is the author felt the need to call out the suffering of parents, as if it was more real or more felt than that of others. Couples unable to see their grandchildren, long distance lovers uncertain when they can see each other again, or for me, a single person unable to really see anyone at all.
And simply put, I do not have the privilege of riding out this storm with anyone but myself, for the most part.
I don’t really see the point in trying to out complain a complainer, just as I can’t understand her life, she can’t possibly understand being alone in a one-bedroom apartment with no outdoor space for two months straight. But I think what is more curious to me is it feels like another example of the benefits couples have that they don’t even realize. And that upper hand cuts single people over and over again.
It’s not deep, and it’s certainly not fatal. It’s more of a death by 1000 paper cuts sort of thing really.
A thousand little things whose combined weight adds up to be unbearable at times.
A company trip in which you can only take your partner by marriage or someone of the same sex.
Or a company trip in which you can take anyone ... but out of 60 qualifiers, you alone bring a friend while nearly everyone else arrives with their partner.
A first date photo challenge on social media when millions of us have been locked away without so much as a hug let alone an intimate touch.
It’s new benefits at work covering IVF and infertility ... but only for couples unable to conceive. Excluded from coverage is a single woman preserving her eggs, who instead takes on the financial and emotional burden of the same process completely on her own.
It’s paying for rent, utilities, the whole kit and caboodle on one salary. It’s wanting to buy a home like the ones your friends all live in but realizing they have double the income when they are starting out. Sure, eventually the DINK (dual income, no kids) status ends with children and the financial scale tips in favor of the single, but it’s a daunting task of house tours and “could I remodel a bathroom?” that you endure with no one else’s help.
Your person, your witness, the one who gets you through the good and the bad? You have them through this, too. I’m not naïve enough to think that this is how all marriages are, but it’s the ones we all see on social media that everyone openly posts about for birthdays, anniversaries and everything in between.
You have that person, while single people have no one we are coping with, leaning on, or struggling beside.
And those kids? The ones who add stress of parenting and homeschooling on top of work and endless asks of you? They are the ones who love you unconditionally through it all. Their tiny hugs and I love you’s melting away the stress that leaves you exhausted each evening.
It’s brutally hard, I don’t disagree. But there’s also so much love wrapped into so many moments too. Moments that are calmer for others, sure.
But also, much, much emptier.
I can imagine your life because I long for it. But do you even see or consider mine?
Sometimes it reminds me of the city buses coming and going up and down my street. I couldn’t tell you a single bus route in my city, though I walk by them every single day. I see them without really seeing them. I don’t have to take them to get places. I don’t have to rely on them, so it’s something I overlook. Merely an object I hear and see from time to time.
I think married people see single people, but many can’t even begin to understand the route that we take each day. The hardships endured alone. The trials and challenges that are shared with family and friends, but often not with the same, consistent person. And they are oblivious to how many times we start down a path only for it to abruptly end, and we find ourselves back at the first stop.
With nearly every situation there is privilege. I am not unaware of the ones that I have. So much that I coined the term single rich – understanding that I have the freedom of choice – with my money, but more so my time and my decisions.
I don’t imagine you are okay, dear parent. But you aren’t the only one who isn’t.
It’s tough for everyone out there. And hopefully at the end of this, we’ll all start opening our eyes and seeing everyone with more grace and fewer assumptions.
For those reaching out, thank you for seeing us. Thank you for realizing the time you long for is our personal enemy at the moment. And maybe, just maybe, we can all not be okay together.