Tag: loneliness

On Old Insecurities

It was a Friday night, and I found myself feeling a little panicked. I NEEDED to dye my hair. Now for those of you who know me, you know well that I’ve been dying my hair various shades of burgundy/red/purple/etc. since the 1990’s, so this is nothing new. But I get lazy and also like my hair to be healthy, so I usually let it go a couple months between home box dye jobs and the used-to-be-dark-brown-but-are-now-pretty-grey roots rarely bother me. That Friday, however, I felt compelled to get my hair back to its fresh, bright, new burgundy.

Why that specific day, you ask? I had an outdoor event to attend on Saturday. With like 15 people. In LA. Gasp!!!

Looking at the RSVP list online, I knew the vast majority of the attendees would be friends – people who have seen me in various states of my life, the good, the bad, and the ugly. They are all supportive, encouraging, lovely people who accept me as I am and seem to genuinely enjoy my presence. People I lived life with for 10 years before moving out of LA. But after 2 years of living the life of a trying-to-keep-my-mum-and-littles-alive-during-a-global-pandemic hermit, my brain was off and running.  Insecurities from over a decade ago loomed large and negative views of myself I had overcome popped back up, unbidden. Just – POOF! There they were!

I found myself scrolling through that RSVP list to see who all would be there, and started categorizing the differences between them and myself.

  • They were all thin and/or fit (significantly more so than my plus size self)
  • They were all stylish (ah, fashionable LA)
  • They all had great teeth (well, better than mine, which is not difficult)
  • They were almost all married (all but 1 or 2)

After this quick assessment, my brain informed me that I would be the one and onely chubby single friend, who had never had braces, in the tent-like maxi-dress.

So that Friday night, I texted my sister and bestie that I was dying my hair because I felt super frumpy. Which my autocorrect changed to grumpy. Appropriate.

Once I realized what my brain was thinking (that doesn’t always happen right away, you know?), I found it fascinating. I spent years in my late 20’s/early 30’s coming to terms with my weight and had decided that, for me, it was healthiest to accept being plus sized and move on with my life rather than keep trying to lose weight and have it constantly on my mind, feeding into my already-prone-to-depression self. It was and is freeing. The concern about fashion was an odd one for me, as I’ve always kind of done my own thing. The thing about being one of the only single people there is something I’ve dealt with for 2 decades now, and doesn’t usually bother me. And the teeth thing? Where did that come from? I don’t think that even bothered me when I lived in LA! So weird!

I sat back and pondered these intrusive thoughts and where they’d come from. Since I have barely socialized these past 2 years, and rarely in a large group, it seems to have brought back some very unexpected insecurities. It was more fascinating to me than concerning to have my mind wander to these places it hadn’t for so long. I could look at these thoughts and go “that’s interesting” but not let them get to me. I think the not socializing for 2 years may have some unknown side effects in my life, which I find intriguing. 

As these thoughts were all ones I had processed and come to terms with ages ago, I was able to hold them out away from me and look at them with curiosity, then tuck them safely away with a younger, less healthy version of my past self. 

Yes, I did dye my hair that night – but I did so like I always do, because I enjoy having reddish hair. It makes me feel confident and a little punkrock, most like myself. It looks healthier and is easier to take care of. And I enjoyed it because I no longer felt the NEED to look better. 

The party was enjoyable, everyone (as I suspected) was kind, happy to see me, positive, and non-judgmental. I was a bit of a wallflower for some moments of it, but that is normal for my awkward self and something I don’t mind. And yes, for curious minds, I was indeed the only plus sized person there, and only one of a couple singles. I didn’t actually notice anyone’s teeth, so can’t make a call on that, and they were all pretty freakin’ stylish, but I somehow fit in just fine.

What’s the moral of the story, you ask? It’s not that kind of a story. This is merely a descriptive personal tale of one moment of my life, not a universally prescriptive parable. The only universal truth in this is that socializing is hard for many of us, and can dredge up some past insecurities we thought were gone forever. When that happens, we’ll all just deal with them the best we can in that specific moment, with the capacity and resources we have available at that specific time. Godspeed to you all as you head out to (safely) socialize once again.

Reassurance that the Awkward Spinster Does Still Exist

Hello, dearest readers! It’s been awhile. Where have I been? Home. Pretty much just at home. For some reason, the general Covid fatigue blended perfectly with my natural inclination toward depression and the tough losses of the year (job, church, friends, ability to touch other human beings, etc.) to make writing impossible for me for a very long time. But I did miss it, and you guys, so I am getting back to it.

A new job at a local library (yay!!! I’m gainfully employed again!!!) that has a weekly writing club which does word sprints is rejuvenating my desire to blog. Huzzah! 

The single, childless life during Covid is such a unique experience. I know parents and married folks have had it HARD, as a couple of my dear friends are now in the midst of divorces and everyone I know who is a parent is barely hanging on to sanity. So I’m not playing the comparison game of who has it the hardest. We all do. The whole freakin’ world does. A global pandemic sucks for everyone (except possibly the top 1% who have gotten richer – though I’d argue that it probably hasn’t been good for their souls). 

But to my singletons – I see you. I see how hard this time has been for you. I see the loneliness and the anxiety, the burden of decision making and the loss of community. I also see the comfort for the introverts of finally being able to work from home and say no to awkward social situations and the stress for the extroverts who have to weigh every much needed social interaction. I see the relief for those of us singletons who have embraced celibacy as a lot of the pressure to date has been removed, and the added difficulty for those still trying to meet someone and figure out life with a love in a time of quarantine. I see the city-dwelling singles who have witnessed a lot of death, poverty, and destruction over the past year and the suburban and rural ones who may feel stranded and far from others. I see the singles who’ve had to go in to work every single day, risking their lives to go home to an empty apartment or to a roommate or to at risk parents, and I see those of us who have lost our jobs so have had the added stress of scrambling to make ends meet. I see those of you who have had incredibly beautiful and good moments in these past few months – graduations, new relationships, new pets, new friendships, new babies, new jobs, promotions, new flats, books published, art created, new skills learned (all you breadmakers are welcome to send me a loaf of sourdough!) but haven’t been able to have the friends and family around to celebrate as you normally would. 

Singles – I just want to acknowledge how hard this past year has been for you. I want you to know you are not alone. The Lord of the universe has been with you every step of the way, catching each tear, celebrating each joy. I’ve been walking through my own depression during this time too, so I might not have experienced exactly what you have but I have been with you in the trenches. 

So how are you all doing? How have the past few months been for you? Please comment or message me to let me know how I can be praying for you, what topics I can write about in upcoming blogs that may be helpful, and general updates on how you’ve been. You are valued and loved, each and every one of you fabulous singletons, and our married friends too.

An Ode To My Dog

My dog died last Wednesday, and I am heartbroken. In the midst of having to stay at home as much as possible during the global pandemic, smoke-filled skies from my poor state being aflame, losing my incredibly beloved job (taking with it my health insurance), the possible disintegration of my little church, the horror show that is our current government, friends dealing with depression and divorce and loneliness and anxiety and all things distance learning, having to watch my little niece and nephew grow up from a distance, and in the month my father died years ago, our little dog was a sweet comfort. 

Paddington Bear, our little old westie, did not care that Donald Trump ramped up his lying. He was thrilled when we had to stay home more – it just meant more walkies and cuddles and attention for him! He sat on my mum’s lap every Sunday as we watched church online, loving that for 1+ hours we sat there, unmoving, with our coffee and songs and notepads. 

Paddy did care when one of us was sad. If I cried, he would gently approach to give me cuddles and licks, and check on me. He helped us keep to some sort of routine, which is difficult when mum is retired and I’m unemployed. But every morning he’d wake mum up to be let out, go for a walk, get breakfast. I knew it was time to get off the computer, working on whatever freelance or personal project I was on, and finish for the day because it was time to feed him his dinner, then cuddle on the couch while watching some TV. 

Paddington didn’t care if my friends were Democrats or Republicans, adults or children, single or married, Christian or anything else. He loved everyone. He was happy to be petted and cooed over, and then left to his own devices. He was, after all, a very old man at 15 ½. No longer desiring to play fetch in the backyard for hours, he was happy just to run after the ball once, stare at it, then look around the yard for a good sniff. 

Paddy loved nature. Squirrels were his favorite, with birds as a close second. The terrier in him never went away, and he’d sniff around the perimeter of his yard every morning and night to make sure all was right with our little world. 

Paddy was mostly deaf and a little bit blind these last months of his life, but it never seemed to bother him. He couldn’t jump on and off the furniture like he used to. Had to eat softer food. But he wasn’t worried – he knew mum and I would take care of him. We’d talk louder so he could hear us, try to gently pat him awake, lift him off and on anything he wanted to get to, and smoosh and warm up his food just so. He trusted us implicitly, never worrying.

Just a dog, but really a little treasure from God to my mum and I. Like a glimpse of innocence, creation before the fall, loaned to us for these 15 ½ years to care for and enjoy. To our whole family, really. As two single adult women, he gave us something to take care of, he gave us affection and comfort, and all the snuggles we needed. And we miss him, and I am sad. We will get another dog, as we are just dog people, but I will still miss Paddy. He was a gift.