Single, Standing Still

Photo by alireza mahmoudi on Unsplash

“What’s the point?”

Her words caught me at off guard at first. Maybe not the words themselves - I’ve said those exact words hundreds of times before as I’ve navigated life on my own. 

But coming from her, my bigger-than-life friend never in short supply of a joke, the phrase had my attention. 

My two friends and I had settled into a pretty solid quarantine routine, which consisted of Saturday night dinners together, falling asleep watching Netflix, and some high kicks and terrible dancing to “The Rhythm of the Night” by Corona when my friend got a hold of Alexa.

One this particular night, we had eaten and cleaned up and were settling into the still of the evening when her question hit me hard. 

The silence is when I hear my own questions. When my mind is free to wander in the infrequent moments when I’m not distracted by social media or the TV or the chaos of the world around me. 

It’s in the quiet when the words pour out of me and my blogs often seem to write themselves before I even realized it was on my heart. 

On this night, in this still, my mind began to churn as she asked the question often on my own mind.

What was the point?

I know this year has been a challenging year for most. I can’t speak to the dynamics of being in a new relationship or raising children or dealing with aging loved ones. I can’t imagine the pain of surviving this year without someone who has always been a staple in my life. I don’t know how it would feel to be trapped in this year with someone I was already struggling beside. 

But what I do know, what I am all too familiar with, is the numbing fact that since March, I felt like I’ve been stuck in place while time moved on.

I have watched those around me in relationships grow stronger or grow apart. I have witnessed them work and struggle and change and become stronger. And I can’t help but notice the only growth for me has been in my wine collection and plant possession – both of which are steadily getting out of hand. 

One of my coworkers early on told me about making a scratch cake with her son. Something they’d never taken the time to do, but with the world in lockdown, suddenly they had time to fill. And in a season of fear and uncertainty came a beautiful experience a mother had with her teenage son, only years away from college for him and an empty nest for her.

For some reason that story has stuck out more than most throughout the months. I longed for the memories she was making with those she loved as I stared at the exposed brick walls in my apartment alone.

I have been fortunate to have some amazing friends to pass the time with me. But with the passing time comes one stark realization.

How am I going to get any closer to a relationship? To a family? To children?

In a time where loved ones second guess when, and if, they can meet safely, it seems both strange and perhaps a bit selfish to be meeting strangers in bars or for picnics outside. For the last year I’d taken a break from dating apps hoping to meet someone in real life. As bars spread tables six feet apart and put up plexiglass, I realize that meeting someone organically is next to impossible at the moment. 

And I think the scariest part is I don’t know how to move forward; how to get off the hamster wheel. These nights with my friends fill my heart and my soul to the brim, but if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime of being mostly single, it’s that this doesn’t last. 

What I’m experiencing with my friends who routinely come over night after night is a season – but not a lifetime. It’s only a matter of time before one or both of my friends will meet somebody, and suddenly those interactions will become less and less as that new person takes up more and more space in her life. 

I wonder who I will be on the other side of this. Realistically, I think I’ll be very much the same person.

But I think about my peers, already experiencing and growing and learning and stretching in relationships alongside loved ones and I wonder if I’ll ever catch up.

What does it even mean to catch up?

I look down at my feet and all I want is to be able to move forward.

And then a new thought comes from nowhere. A different, kinder thought.

Maybe I’m the earth comparing myself to the moon. Watching its quick revolutions day after day - so much movement - so much change. 

But I’m moving too - I’m just slower. With time, I’ll look up and see how far I’ve come even if it’s happening so slowly it can’t be felt.

This season might be slower. It may be harder. And even in the moments it feels like I’m standing still - like there’s no point, no progress, like it’s all for nothing – I’ll take a deep breath.

I’ll remind myself that this too shall pass. I remember that comparisons are the thief of joy. And I realize that even if it’s slower than I’d like, I’m still moving. 

And I’ll tell myself that that is enough.

Because the truth is, it is.