There's this place in my room that has become a monthly meeting place between me, my journal, my cat, and my saddest playlist.
Tears are usually present. The lights are dimmed, a lone candle is lit. It's most always during that time of month where all of my buried insecurities are exemplified in sensation by tenfold (ladies, you all know what I'm referring to here).
And I know its especially bad when my cat wanders in. When she rubs against my legs, purring like crazy, and eventually crawls into my lap, sensing whatever embellished emotion I'm feeling, I know it's a rough one.
As of late, it's been this one recurring issue, and it became especially prevalent during New Year's Eve.
There I was, five minutes till the start of the new year, with my sister and boyfriend cuddling each other, and my good friend on FaceTime with her long-distance bae. The countdown commenced, and once the fireworks began shooting out into the sky, I felt the worst depression I've ever felt for being single and alone. All around me, kisses, cuddles, I love yous, and then little old me, alone and neglected.
It was gut wrenching. And I laughed it off, blamed it on the alcohol. We joked about how I drunkenly threw a pity party, and I remember distinctly that they assured me, assured me that I would someday find someone, of course I would, I was a catch.
There's nothing worse than hearing that unintentional pity in someone's voice, especially when it comes form the very person that's in a happy committed relationship.
I don't know what that feels like, I never really have. I was the type of girl who detested boys all through my childhood, well into middle school. Ewww they have coodies! High school came around, and sure, I had plenty of crushes, but nothing ever became of them. Boys weren't a priority in my life and they sure as hell never approached me. Then in college, once I had the chance to live by myself, it sunk in.
Somehwere in my early twenties, the pressure for having a relationship became the focus of all my thoughts.
My friends were all getting married, already engaged, with child, having a child, in a relationship, or just dating around.
And there I was, the tall girl who brushed it all off and continued to watch Netflix with her cat. I was fine, fine.
On the outside.
On the inside, I was crying to Celine Dion, in dire need of what it felt like to be desired, wanted, liked.
As a woman of tall stature and apparent "intimidating" confidence, I pranced around repeating to myself over and over that I was fine without someone, that I was happy on my own, a confident strong woman.
But I wasn't. And I'm not. I'm human, and I'm a woman with desires.
To this day, to this very day that I find myself once again in my room crying about how alone I am, I still struggle with the idea that I can be happy and okay on my own.
I have to believe that happiness, satisfaction, and validation doesn't all come from someone else. Even though I am the person who knows best how I perk up like a starved plant when a man showers me with his compliments, his sexy talk, his show of affection, I also believe that I can be whole and happy, living a splendid life without that validation from another human being.
I'm still working through this process, obviously.
I continue to fall back to my old ways, despite adamant warnings in previous journal entries about how to avoid falling into that trap again. But I also know that the more I fall, the more I learn to pick myself up again. And one of these days, I'll have the courage to stand all the way up, all six feet two inches of this glorious bod, and face the world as a woman who's happy in or out of a relationship, single or taken.
One of my biggest and most intense loves I will ever feel, will not only be directed towards my cat, my family, and someday a significant other, but with myself. I will be living within this body I call home each and every day, through the ups and downs, through the weight gains and weight losses, heartaches and butterflies, and only I will be there through it all.
Once I fall in love with myself fully, once I accept myself for who I am, then maybe I'll find someone who compliments me, who loves me the way I love myself.
This in no way purports that being in an actual relationship is over-rated, or that people in a relationship (in whatever context that may be) should act differently in the face of their single friends. In my case on New Year's Eve, I should've known better than to put myself in a situation that I knew could potentially lead to the unearthing of my insecurities.
I know that tomorrow, I could meet a prince who thinks i'm their princess (or perhaps I've already met him) and I could read this post and think of it as a sad girl's emotional cry of lament. I also know that I can't be fooled into thinking that someone else's attention towards me somehow makes me feel validated, that I can now be happy because someone thinks I'm worth it. I'm also learning how to take things as they are, without over-thinking, as I'm most prone to do.
I'm learning to love myself on a deeper level, not just body (wink wink), but soul. I know I have the ability to fall hard and quick when someone gives me attention, why can't I fall hard and quick when I give myself attention?
I may not be ready to laugh off my single cat lady label, but I'm ready to take that step towards acceptance, in one of my most important relationships: with myself. And when the future permits me the opportunity to share my love, then I'll welcome it with open arms.
Until then, I'll just continue to hope that my monthly meetings in my room will become less frequent, or that the subject of said tears will come from something minor, like the Lakers losing, or not having an occasion to wear my new red dress.
Wouldn't that be something?
