Ever Get Home launched two weeks ago today. Thank You to everyone who has supported my return to writing. Thanks for the encouragement. Thank You for subscribing. Major thanks to you paid subscribers. Your commitment allows me to commit to this.
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Andrea reached out after a recent small-group conversation.
“Thank you so much for a great meet-up. It was the most connected I’ve felt in quite a while. My heart has felt lighter ever since.
I wanted to ask you a question—I know you probably get a lot of messages, so no worries if you can’t answer. How do you keep your heart so open? And remain so hopeful? When I listened to you, you seemed so genuinely excited for others despite your own struggles. I have felt really stuck for about six months now. So many of my friends have transitioned to different seasons of their lives, while I feel I have been left behind. My therapist is working with me on accepting the timing of my life and my own unique path, but I have been weighed down by so much comparison, jealousy, and bitterness. I isolate myself from so many places and people because I am so ashamed that my life doesn’t look like theirs.”
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Hi Andrea.
Thanks so much for your kind words and thanks for your question as well.
First off, I can certainly relate. I’m 43 and romantic love has been my biggest dream for as long as I can remember. I’ve never been married. I love kids but don’t have any of my own. My last committed relationship ended in 2017. So it’s safe to say this part of life hasn’t gone the way I wished.
Almost all of my friends are married and almost all of them have kids. Our lives look very different. And while I’m happy for them, there can be a sting as well. I relate to the comparison and jealousy you mentioned. What they have is what I long for. What they have reminds me what I’m missing.
I relate to avoiding certain situations—the celebration that will be made up of couples, the child’s birthday but you are not a parent.
I’m glad you mentioned therapy. Because to answer your question, I would put it at the top of the list. I actually started seeing my therapist after that breakup six years back. I was devastated at the time. There were patterns I couldn’t recognize, dots I hadn’t yet connected. I’m thankful for the healing that has happened and I hope I’ve grown as well—learned to see where shadows steered the ship, learned to cope in better ways. My therapist and I talk a lot about learning to hold things that are uncomfortable. I believe I’m healthier today. Far from perfect but there is evidence of progress.
Healing allows me to be grateful. I still struggle but I’m glad to be alive. I’m thankful for my little dog, my family, my friends. I’ve come to see connection as vital and so I’m thankful for moments of connection. I’m thankful for the many things I love—the concert that I went to last night, iced coffee a few hours ago, I’m thankful to be writing this right now.
The quote came up in last Friday’s post so I won’t say it all again, but I like the idea that “hope is a commitment to the future,” that maybe hope goes beyond circumstance. Maybe it goes beyond whether or not my dreams come true. I want to show up for life regardless of what life brings my way. I don’t want to take this afternoon, this breath, this moment, for granted.
My neighbor Alice told me on her 101st birthday that she has been alone for the last 40 years, but she has not been lonely. And it made sense because I get to see how Alice lives her life. She walks to the river every evening with her daughter, she watches every single sunset. Alice talks to all our neighbors. She’s in a book club and a bridge club with her friends.
Alice could have easily decided that life lost all its meaning when her husband died. I would imagine the days were painful for a long time after that, but I think what Alice was trying to tell me is that her romantic status isn’t what defines her. There is much not missing. Alice is active, known and loved. And I get to live the gift of being known by Alice. Connection makes life meaningful.
To sum it all up, I’ve come to believe that life is worth living even in the absence of romantic love, even while my dreams feel far away. I hope to fall in love again. I hope to find a partner. I would like to be a father, though I hold that looser now. Regardless, I want to keep going. I need space to express my disappointment, say my sadness, air my grief. I need places to be honest. Counseling is a great one, and I need friends as well. I want to be healthy enough to not only cheer them on but also to meet them in their problems. Our struggles might look different but I bet there’s common ground. I want my friends to know I care. I want to be healthy enough to show up. Which means I can’t live only in my head, only with my list of how life didn’t go. This thing is still a gift even when it doesn’t look the way that I imagined.
So let’s lean on what we know and let’s hope for some surprises. Thanks for seeing me as open. Thanks for seeing me excited. I wish you all the best as you keep going, the best as life unfolds. Much is mystery and maybe you’re catching me on a good day, but I believe it is a gift to be alive. May our hearts stay soft and strong. And radically accepting.
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Upcoming small-group conversations: Join me Tuesday 4/25 for “I Wish I Had More Friends” or next Saturday 4/29 for “I’m in a Season of Change.”
Thank you for being encouraging. I’m your age, numbers flipped, and I’m starting to hold the possibility of motherhood looser every day. I hope you get the things you desire and long for. My heart aches for similar things, and it can be difficult. But we can also hold these things in tension. Knowing what we want, being happy for our friends who have those things, being sad or grieving what we want and don’t have.