It’s Friday, which means it’s Five Minute Friday time, where I join up with Kate at the #FMFParty gang to write together one a common prompt, for five minutes only (okay, it might’ve been one or two more today).
Today’s word is: Alone.
This isn’t where I planned to be. Like any normal American girl, I had intended to go to college, decide what I wanted to with the rest of my life, find a guy, graduate, marry, and settle down. Typical ring-by-spring, happily-ever-after life. But four years out from college, I find myself alone, doing something I never imaged doing (though I love my job), fighting an endless battle. Feeling alone, then again, not alone.
Because some days, I’m thoroughly content with where I am in life. I see how incredibly blessed I am, and know that God has used my singleness to deepen my faith, develop my story, and challenge me to be brave in the unknowns, and I cling to that. I cling to His promises of goodness and walking alongside me, and I know I’m not alone. I am content.
And with a few words, that contentment is completely destroyed, replace with the knowledge that I’m 26, and this “single season” is lasting far longer than I thought possible, and perhaps isn’t just a season. I try to hold on to that contentment, but I’m bombarded by the reality that most view me as a life in hiatus.
As if I’ve failed. That I’m not complete. That my life isn’t “there yet” because I haven’t conformed to the cultural standard of get-married-settle-down-have-kids.
And I’m tired.
I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of finding a place of contentment, only to have it ripped out from underneath me, making me feel incredibly, utterly alone. Where I’m always the third wheel, or the friend who can’t get her stuff together.
Last night, it was a comment about having a reunion with high school friends “with all our spouses and significant others”. And it hit me like a ton of bricks….because if I went there, I know I would be made to feel “less than”. Life a failure. Like the kid who can’t get her act together.
And I sat there feeling entirely alone, dwelling in my singleness, my contentment slipping away like smoke on the wind. This place of “dwelling on what I don’t have” isn’t where I want to live, but too often, this is where I find myself.
And the battle resumes: Alone, not alone.