All by Myself...Don't Wanna Be....
WARNING: This is by far the most candid and intimate look into my innerself that I have ever shown you on blogger. You may not be able to handle it. Proceed with caution. This is a depressing and painfully honest look into my loneliness. Please don't worry though. I promise you I'm not consumed by it, but only wounded from time to time.
Alone is a place that I am learning to live. It’s a struggle, but it isn’t all together bad. It’s definitely never a place I ever dreamed I’d be on the brink of 25. Well maybe that’s a lie. I’ve always had this annoying little “what if” which I attempt to entertain as little as possible. On those rare instances when I would let myself dare to imagine what seemed like the nightmarish world of being single at such an age, I thought it would look different than this. I thought that I’d surely be over the fact that I’m alone. I’d pray for hours a day and take care of orphans in my spare time. If I couldn’t be married to a man, I’d be married to the church, and I’d be perfectly fine with that. When I come to that darkest place of honesty with self and God, I must admit that the church has always been second choice. That’s probably horrible, and the Lord knows I’ve prayed for things to be different. The guilt I feel over the consistency of these disordered desires is overwhelming. But at age 24, nine months, and 16 days I want the husband, the little white house, and the cute kids as much as ever. Since I’m coming clean, I’ll just tell you that this is my very oldest dream.
This dream is so different than all the rest because I don’t think there is a damn thing I can do about it. This doesn’t happen by dedication and hard work. You can’t go on this quest for the perfect mate and then make them fall in love with you. It just happens. If I was a guy, I could ask a girl out. I could do something about this state of singleness, but I was born with the other equipment. I could be the strong aggressive type of woman and grow balls and ask the man out. Some guys like that sort of thing. My problem with that is that I’ve found too many great guys who I’d give anything in the world to be with, but for some reason they don’t find me. I won’t begin to speculate as to why here, although I must admit that I frequently speculate about this, and it depresses me more than anything in the world. (Again, I’m in seminary. AIDS orphans in Africa, my plentiful array of sins, and all the people in the 1040 window should be the things that truly depress me.) What it all comes down to is this- as desperately as I am seeking that most special of men, as much as I want to find him, I want him to find me even more badly.
Call it the damsel in distress syndrome. I guess I am like any other woman who wants to be rescued and thought of as lovely as John Eldridge might say. I hate that. I want to be more than just a girl seeking a man to rescue her. I want to be… well… me. And I want me to not feel a sense of helplessness or unworthiness because of the lack of a romantic relationship. I want Janalee to be this amazing person full of life and interesting things unique to her. I want to know that this person is worth getting to know on a deep spiritual level. I want to love in such a way that is so real it cannot be mistaken for anything but love.
There are valuable lessons learned from being alone. I’m learning to know and love myself. I think that’s important for everyone. I like the time I have to process and write about things like these. I like the social freedom that singleness affords. I can hang out with whoever I want whenever I want. I do love that part of it. The term free as a bird comes to mind. Freedom is a nice thing, but even birds have the natural inkling to reproduce and to do all that reproducing involves. Aaah…yep, it’s definitely better to be married.
Alone is a place that I am learning to live. It’s a struggle, but it isn’t all together bad. It’s definitely never a place I ever dreamed I’d be on the brink of 25. Well maybe that’s a lie. I’ve always had this annoying little “what if” which I attempt to entertain as little as possible. On those rare instances when I would let myself dare to imagine what seemed like the nightmarish world of being single at such an age, I thought it would look different than this. I thought that I’d surely be over the fact that I’m alone. I’d pray for hours a day and take care of orphans in my spare time. If I couldn’t be married to a man, I’d be married to the church, and I’d be perfectly fine with that. When I come to that darkest place of honesty with self and God, I must admit that the church has always been second choice. That’s probably horrible, and the Lord knows I’ve prayed for things to be different. The guilt I feel over the consistency of these disordered desires is overwhelming. But at age 24, nine months, and 16 days I want the husband, the little white house, and the cute kids as much as ever. Since I’m coming clean, I’ll just tell you that this is my very oldest dream.
This dream is so different than all the rest because I don’t think there is a damn thing I can do about it. This doesn’t happen by dedication and hard work. You can’t go on this quest for the perfect mate and then make them fall in love with you. It just happens. If I was a guy, I could ask a girl out. I could do something about this state of singleness, but I was born with the other equipment. I could be the strong aggressive type of woman and grow balls and ask the man out. Some guys like that sort of thing. My problem with that is that I’ve found too many great guys who I’d give anything in the world to be with, but for some reason they don’t find me. I won’t begin to speculate as to why here, although I must admit that I frequently speculate about this, and it depresses me more than anything in the world. (Again, I’m in seminary. AIDS orphans in Africa, my plentiful array of sins, and all the people in the 1040 window should be the things that truly depress me.) What it all comes down to is this- as desperately as I am seeking that most special of men, as much as I want to find him, I want him to find me even more badly.
Call it the damsel in distress syndrome. I guess I am like any other woman who wants to be rescued and thought of as lovely as John Eldridge might say. I hate that. I want to be more than just a girl seeking a man to rescue her. I want to be… well… me. And I want me to not feel a sense of helplessness or unworthiness because of the lack of a romantic relationship. I want Janalee to be this amazing person full of life and interesting things unique to her. I want to know that this person is worth getting to know on a deep spiritual level. I want to love in such a way that is so real it cannot be mistaken for anything but love.
There are valuable lessons learned from being alone. I’m learning to know and love myself. I think that’s important for everyone. I like the time I have to process and write about things like these. I like the social freedom that singleness affords. I can hang out with whoever I want whenever I want. I do love that part of it. The term free as a bird comes to mind. Freedom is a nice thing, but even birds have the natural inkling to reproduce and to do all that reproducing involves. Aaah…yep, it’s definitely better to be married.
posted by Janalee | 9:07 PM
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