How I Stopped Whining About Being Alone

As a single mom, the author often feels alone. But after a year and half complaining about her isolation, she finally began to realize the benefits of being alone.

I’m ashamed to say that since I left my husband three years ago to raise my children on my own, I have repeated a series of annoying complaints that range from frustration and exhaustion to straight up unapologetic yearning:

“I need a break.”

“Just give me some space, kids, mommy needs a little quiet time.”

“When I earn enough, I will hire a babysitter regularly and take time for myself. Until then, it can’t happen.”

“I can’t take time for myself right now. It costs money to do it.”

“I wish I could have sex consistently and frequently.”

And the list goes on.

I am embarrassed by how whiney I sound. The truth is carving out time for myself is really about being OK with being alone and I haven’t always been. The first 18 months as a single woman/mom, I did not go out except for the purposes of work and, of course, weekend playdates with other children. After the kids went to bed, I sat by myself on my balcony, drank red wine, smoked cigarettes, and stared into the abyss of fear, sorrow, and anxiety that I associated with being alone.

And it was entirely my fault that I felt isolated from others and more specifically, myself. I had put my husband’s needs and interests so far in front of my own, I forgot who I was. I had sacrificed so much of me at the altar of my marriage. I gave up dancing, hiking, biking, smoking, drinking, writing, sex, ambition, and my love of being front and center. I had marginalized me.

As I sat on the balcony, I wondered how any man would find me attractive and it made my aloneness feel ever more permanent. Single mom, two small children, c-scar, 40 years of age, no wealth, no flexibility in my schedule, and no level of whimsy in my life. I even forgot how my vagina worked. Nothing about me seemed remotely appealing to me. So, I refused to date. I was hollow inside. How could I possibly share myself with a man when I had nothing to share with myself?

I knew I was a fighter and good in combat. But, that’s all I knew. Despite the power I felt in steering my family through crisis, I felt no deep connection to the power that other people saw in me. Instead, I felt short-tempered, exhausted, and empty—haggard. And the internal whining made me feel pathetic and wimpy.

As time passed, I started writing again. While writing gave me a respite from the balcony, my burgeoning career in media energized and inspired me. I reconnected with my natural talents and the power of my knowledge and experience. My career allowed me to tap into a side of me I loved dearly.

But, outside of career, I still felt alone and I hated it. And, I missed sex. I became so fixated on my physical desires, I began to associate sex with a respite from the solitude of my aloneness. My yearning grew intense. A sexual relationship seemed a great way to finally escape the immensity of being alone.

So, I found a lover. We never dated. We flirted, became friendly enough to take our clothes off and sex it up and then, realized we enjoyed each other. We met monthly for a lovely weekend of intimacy and friendship. In the course of a year, we probably spent no more than 25 days together. We spoke every night and texted throughout the day. I didn’t think I felt alone anymore. For the most part, I no longer sat on the balcony shrouded in the smoke of my Dunhill reds.

But, let’s be real. The sexual intimacy I shared with my lover was more like a fix. Getting fucked stupid feels as similar as I imagine falling back into a deep heroine nod might. Nothing happening upstairs, all thoughts fall to the wayside, all the pain and tension numbed out—my lover was my fix. Every moment with him was a wonderful respite from the haggard me. It was my break from everything and it was an immensely successful avoidance tactic.

Of course, a break never provides any real rejuvenation. Within five minutes of being back with my kids, I was once again short-tempered, impatient, and irritated. And my frustrations reminded me that underneath it all I still felt alone.

Then, slowly, I grew better at being present and started to reconnect with the woman I love inside me. I began to realize that I was looking outside myself to find the answer to being alone. The lover, the career, the parenting, the break from my kids, the appeal for space, the quest for a higher income to hire a sitter…none of this moved me any closer to being comfortable with being alone.

Soon, I ended the relationship. I was no longer the same woman. I had rediscovered myself and found beauty within me that I had never seen before. I made the power move to go it alone, be present with myself, and be entirely happy with that decision.

Don’t get me wrong. I still yearn for breaks. I’ve just reached the four-month mark with no break from my kids and I’m feeling it. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.

Webster defines alone as “separated, apart, isolated from others.” I feel that. I’m sure everyone does. But, I am also deeply connected. Alone and connected operate in tandem. I engage with myself and the people who move through my life with an openness that reminds me that after so many years, I am once again whole. I understand that in isolation I can reach deep inside myself and discover some beautiful and amazing things about myself. In reconnecting with me, I engage with the world in more meaningful and exciting ways. In fact, my desire for a break has grown less frequent.

And that whining: gone.

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