Friday, January 4, 2013

and so it goes.

let's back up life a bit prior to my heart full of love for mr. redmayne, to my heart full of everything but love on new year's eve. triple ugh.
guys, i am so not a sulker.  atleast not outwardly so.
to those who don't know me best i seem to be in an unnaturally happy mood at all times.
but this past new year's eve was tough; a mood that would have been visable to even the strangest of strangers.
i have never been a girl to be defined by who is or is not in my life.
i would be myself in a room full of 1000, i would be myself in a room of just me.
i am grateful for that strength my parents gave me.
but when you are stuck with nothing but couples all around on a holiday sealed with a kiss, let me assure you...the singledom sticks out like patchouli in a room full of chanel.

i come from a culture where falling in love and marrying young is more so an expectation rather than simply being common.
it seems more frequently viewed as a sure sign of success to some; don't let me count how many times people give me that "i'm so sorry for your loss" look when i arrive at yet another event clutching a bedazzled purse rather than another hand.
the thing is, i'm not sorry, because i never doubt it will come.
and with each passing year i realize all the reasons why it hasn't been my turn yet.
my college degree, the people that have become my people, the jobs i have had, the places i have seen, experiences that have added those little pieces to me that would never have been and i would never give back.
but that doesn't mean the times don't come where it just hurts to be alone.
and i think, for me atleast, it is a pain of impatience more than anything.
i don't question being alone forever, 
i question the timing of it all.
so when someone kindly says, "oh your time will come, don't you worry," i understand they are trying to add comfort, but it adds nothing to what i already know.
and ends up hurting more than it helps.
now if you can tell me when...let's talk.

and then i stumbled upon the new year's post of one of my FAVORITE brunettes across the country of whom i have never met, but i feel linked by some sort of kindred spirit-ness.
you can read her blog {here}
and i so highly recommend you do!
but in terms of my mental dilemma she, as she usually so perfectly does, sums it all up:

"it was okay to be twenty-three and single and failing but fighting the good fight. it was okay to be twenty-three and writing about how most days i felt more like a disaster than anything else. and it was okay to be twenty-four and twenty-five and still all those things.

somehow though, it doesn't feel okay to be twenty-seven and in this place--stuck in this metaphorical rut. or, well, actual rut.
and so there's a little embarrassment. shame, even.
and it gets harder to write.

but then i think about writing and i think about the length of a story. and about how this one's just a little bit longer than others. and i wrap myself up in that notion and keep going. because you have to. you simply have to keep going.

you know, i still think about the A train. often, i do. about how much i hated it. about how dirty it was: the dim lighting, the putrid color of the seats. and i think about how all those years on the A train, made for my experience on the F. i love the F train. absolutely adore it. i forgive it for much and often. for when it gets stuck at York street, or Jay St-Metrotech. for how it sometimes inches between Bergen and Carroll.
it is not lost on me that i love the F so much precisely because i so deeply loathed the A.

when life begins to chug it will mean more for this period in which it seemed so very stuck.

change. good change. forward movement.

and when i finally meet the man i choose to spend my life with it will mean more for each and every suitcase i trudged home for christmas, alone. it will mean more for these ambiguous years in which i learned to do everything myself: installing the air conditioning and paying the bills and moving into a fourth-floor walk up without a man in sight. it will mean more for that one night when at two in the morning i had to crush the maggots beneath my bed, one by one. more for the time when half-asleep i rose from bed to tether the roof's door to the stairwell with little more than yellow twine because the wind was banging into it in such a way i was sure the sky was falling.

it will all mean more for these years in which i got so good at maneuvering by myself that i began to wonder if i wasn't too far gone to make room for someone else.

change. it will come. like a thief in the night. taking and bringing both good and bad."


{photo found on pinterest!}

1 comment:

  1. You are never failing while you are fighting. Your words are sweet yet sparkly. You can and must prevail! So many girls, wanting to be women, need your example!! Press forward sister;)


    Hopelessly flawed yet fabulous Sugarhouse hippie resident