This site has been silent for a while. And for that I am deeply sorry. I haven’t disappeared – please don’t go filing missing persons reports. I haven’t died – although if you want to send flowers, I wouldn’t mind. And I haven’t abandoned the site or the series – I promise.
The reality is that I just moved. “Moved” doesn’t seem to fully describe the overwhelming, time-consuming, all-encompassing events of the last few months. In the last few months I have renovated my old house, sold that house, moved everything into a storage unit, traveled to New Zealand, traveled to Arizona, traveled to Washington D.C., traveled to San Francisco, purchased a new house, renovated the new house, moved everything from the storage unit into the new house, and for the last two weeks have been existing in a literal canyon of moving boxes and furniture obstacles – all while continuing to maintain a career.
And most of that was done completely alone. Alone. Solo. Unaccompanied. Companionless. You get the idea.
I often write about the joys of being a single girl. The freedom of not having to plan my life around another person’s schedule. The empowerment of taking charge of your own life. The encouragement to start living a full life now instead of waiting for Prince Charming to show up first.
And all of that still holds true. But that’s not the entire story.
I don’t often write about the sleepless nights worrying about money. In Southern California, it’s nearly impossible to live on a single income.
I don’t often write about the panic-inducing reality of facing major tasks alone. My latest major task was unpacking. Facing a Grand Canyon of moving boxes alone made tears appear in my eyes without warning. It was daunting. It seemed like an unending and insurmountable task. (Fortunately, my mom spent a few days with me and helped me tame the mountains of boxes.)
I don’t often write about the major hiccups in an otherwise good plan. A few weeks after moving in, a day of heavy water usage (non-stop laundering of clothes and linens that had been in storage for months) caused a major plumbing issue to rear its smelly head. I won’t go into details, but if you imagine an outhouse overflowing into your sinks, you’ll get the picture.
I don’t often write about the drudgery of doing everyday tasks alone. There’s no one to do the grocery shopping while I take care of ABC. There’s no one to do the laundry or cooking while I take care of XYZ. There’s no one to take care of the pets if I have to travel.
It’s just me, and me alone.
Yes – I do have friends and family who would be willing to help if I asked. But many of them have spouses and children, and all of them have busy lives of their own, and I feel bad, not to mention a bit pathetic, taking them away from their busy lives to help me. No – this is the path I chose and I must find a way to work through it. Sure – I could have married the wrong man just so I didn’t have to face the world alone. I could have married a good friend just so I didn’t have to deal with disgusting plumbing issues myself. But I didn’t. I chose to remain single until the right man appeared in my life. And to date, Mr. Charming hasn’t yet appeared on my doorstep. And I’m OK with that. I’m thrilled with my single girl life.
But once in a while I’m reminded how much easier things might be if I had someone with which to share the burden. I’m not saying a single girl isn’t capable of doing all of this on her own. We are, and I am. I’m just saying that as much as I love my life, I have to be honest and say that sometimes it would be nice to have that special someone by my side to help me do the heavy lifting. Sometimes the weight of the world gets pretty heavy on these slender shoulders. Sometimes it’s no fun being single alone.