When Being Single Just Feels Hard

I never quite know when those moments will come, when the weight of being single will come crashing down upon my chest.

Those moments have been fewer and farther between over the past few years.

But without fail, they always come.

And boy, they’ll knock the wind out of you.

The moments

For me, it’s always moments. I’ve never been one to really get down and stay down for days or weeks on end about being single. It’s more random moments that hit fast and hit hard, and then take awhile to process and bounce back from.

I wish I could say that I have learned over the years to predict when those moments will come. Sure, there are some of the obvious triggers like weddings, or holidays, or even just scrolling through Facebook feeds filled with happy couples and babies and families galore. But more often than not, it is the tiniest of things that unexpectedly cause a catch in my throat and fill my eyes with tears. Like watching a couple I’m with exchange a knowing look and smile. Or coming home with some great news with no one there waiting. Or waking up for the thousandth morning in a row next to an empty pillow. Or walking into church or a party or gathering alone. Or watching freaking Parenthood, where even watching the roller coaster of those relationships leaves me wishing I had a Joel or Adam or Crosby of my own.

It’s like grief, the way those feelings sneak up on you without warning and then instantly overtake you. And while sometimes I’m in public or in the middle of a project and have to just block out those feelings and press on, I have learned from experience over the years that it’s best to just ride out the wave. And not overanalyze everything. Because after days or weeks or years of staying strong and holding it together, usually the best thing in the world is to yield to the grief and let it out.

The grief

For those who aren’t single, I know it might sound melodramatic to associate being single with grief. But I have come to believe that’s exactly what it is at times.

Let me be clear. I love my life, single and all. And I have written a handful of times on here before about how I’ve found many things about the single life to be empowering and awesome. And I absolutely believe in living life — wherever it finds you — to the fullest. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still would love to be married, and that I have dreamed dreams and hoped hopes over the years that simply were left unmet. And I grieve those things.

I grieve the fact that I didn’t get to experience young love and marriage like so many of my friends, and alongside so many of those friends. I grieve the fact that I didn’t get to meet my husband when we were in the smooth-skinned, wrinkle-free, heads-full-of-hair, bursting-with-energy “prime” of our youth. I grieve that a guy never got to see me lead worship in my first job, and I never got to cheer him on with his first promotion, and stay up late dreaming and planning where our careers would lead. I grieve that we didn’t get to choose all of our “firsts” together — first city, first home, first set of pots and pans, first Craigslisted-couch, first dog, first car, first broken toilet that we fix together, and on and on. I grieve that — even if I do meet someone — we will in some ways be years behind so many of my peers in experiencing all of those “firsts” of marriage, and being newlyweds, and starting a family, and quite simply just getting to really know everything about each other. I grieve that my age is becoming an increasing factor in whether or not having kids of our own would even be possible. I grieve that there is no one on the horizon.

Sure, I can play devil’s advocate on all of these. And I often do with myself, because I absolutely know that the years I’ve been single have (for the most) part been wonderful. And if a guy does happen to come along in the future, I also know that relationship will be great in its own special way. But that doesn’t discount the fact that I had dreams of how I hoped things would go. And when those dreams or prayers were not answered as I had hoped, something deep inside me just aches.

The heartache

Really, that’s the best word I can use to describe the really hard days and moments that I have being single. It’s heartache, in the most literal and emotional way. You know the feeling, when a weight presses down on your chest so hard that you can barely breathe, and then somehow buries deep into your soul? That kind of ache.

It’s not really jealousy. Trust me, I struggle with jealousy and comparison in all sorts of other areas of life. But with relationships, I’ve strangely always been encouraged by watching other good marriages. It’s also not really anger either. Occasionally I get mad about the situation and vent to friends or have it out with God. But even with God, as counter-whatever it may seem, I’ve always felt like He gets that grief more than anyone. And He has seen me through so many years and I don’t doubt He will continue to do so. So there’s no one or nothing really to be mad at.

No, I think the main thing I feel is just that ache of sadness. Sad that I’m still walking this road. Sad that it is downright exhausting at times doing life on your own. Sad that I have absolutely no idea or hint of what lies ahead. Sad because I would just love the chance to love. Sad that there’s a decent chance that might never happen for me.

Some days, my heart just aches.

The response

I’m not going to package this up with a nice pretty bow and a list of 5 steps for how to handle these moments. Because if I read that in someone else’s post, it would probably make me cringe. But mostly because, like I said, I honestly don’t think there’s a ton to “do”.

Sometimes I cry, sometimes I pray, sometimes I call a friend, sometimes I go for a walk, sometimes I just snuggle with my dog, sometimes I make myself a bowl of my favorite egg drop soup. But most times, I try my best to just be present in the moment and listen to my heart. Sometimes a specific issue will rise to the surface about being single that I need to deal with, maybe on my own, or with God, or something I should bring up with a group of friends or a therapist or something. But I’ve come to find that most of the time, I’m usually just sad and that’s all there is to it.

And that’s ok.

So yeah. I’m still that someone who’s all about enjoying life being single, and feeling empowered and chasing after dreams and living life to the fullest. But I’m also someone who has spent plenty of time in the valleys, learning the outlines of the shadows that come with this territory when all seems lost. And I’ve come to believe these moments are just as important as the highs.

But as my old pastor used to say, the worst thing is never the last thing. And somehow, the light and joy that come with the morning always come again. Always.

So to any of you dear friends who find yourself in the midst of those hard days, I raise my glass to you and the courage and strength it takes to get through. And I offer that you’re not alone. And remind you — and myself — that it will get better.

It will.