My apologies for those of you who find this title disturbing; I’m coming off of a breakup and I suppose I’m feeling a bit feisty. More accurately, this is me attempting humor during a difficult time in my life. In order to respect the privacy of my ex, all I will say about the end of our relationship is this: some past traumas proved to be too much for us to overcome, and we may or may not reconcile in the future.
Honestly, I felt worse after my divorce, because at that stage of my life I had no sense of identity and the thought of dying alone played on a constant loop in my brain- because why not kick yourself when you’re already down? At the time, pursuing a conscious uncoupling (yep, still sounds dumb) was the ultimate failure, and the fact that I was in my forties meant I was well past my prime and therefore, destined to settle for a life of loneliness, too many pints of ice cream and baggy sweats.
Of course, I was wrong. I was in fact, able to successfully make many poor choices in terms of dating- to solidify the notion that I’ve still got it!
At least, I had it.
Let me explain, I’ve come to realize some recent truths about myself that aren’t exactly conducive to blissful coupledom.
For one, I don’t want sex- like ever. I’m hoping it’s hormones, but my Dr. says it’s also normal for women my age (yay). Additionally, I much prefer living and sleeping sans partner. Whether or not my winning personality makes up for these newfound revelations is debatable.
Seriously though, nowadays, the word alone doesn’t have a negative connotation to me. And let’s face it- even if you’re in a wonderful relationship and surrounded by family, you’re not immune to departing this fine planet solo. Some call it morbid, but I prefer to call it realistic.
To me, the measure of a life well lived is not about my relationship with a significant other, but rather, my relationship with myself. If loving myself equates to being by myself, then so be it (she said through her tears). No one said honoring your truth would be easy, only worthwhile;)
So, after much careful consideration, I’ve concluded that the thought of dying alone doesn’t bother me; what bothers me is the prospect of not actually living.