Lately, I’ve felt more aware than I’d care to admit about two things:

Point 1: I’m single.

Point 2: I’m childless.
(I’m not though a childless cat lady; though maybe I vote like one)

Obviously, this caused me to do my scroll of the last time I talked about single in a collection of words because heaven forbid someone who is single talks about being single.

Earlier this year I got to do something I absolutely love to do: bake and care for people I love. I made desserts for a marriage retreat our church had. I (with help of my amazing assitant) baked a dessert for each couple. I helped set-up, I helped bartend mocktails, I tried to do everything I could so that the couples, the people I love and support, were able to set some time aside for themselves. I did everything I could to support the couple who came to run the retreat who happen to be humans I adore more than life. Being able to support the relationships of humans I love is always a top priority and I was absolutely glad to do it.

When I got home that Saturday night after more or less being kicked out of clean up, I sat on the floor and I cried. Just a little.

I didn’t neccesarily cry because I was sad I wasn’t married. I didn’t cry becuase I was tired. In all fairness those events and doing all of that fill my soul in ways I can’t even articulate.

I cried because walking into a space empty of a person for you can start to get heavier. All the moments wherein you feel just outside of a space.
I’m more grateful than I can ever say about the humans I have in my life. I have the best ones known to man. I have ones near and ones far and everywhere in between.
I have the absolute best people.

And because of them I go through a shame spiral every time I feel like I need to bring up how singleness is hard.
I feel like I delve into a part of christian guilt about saying singleness is hard. All I can hear in my head is all the times I’ve been told that God should be enough BLAH BLAH BLAH.
I’m sorry high school youth group, I am absolutely whole without a man and God and I are doing just fine.
And don’t even talk about my reaction to my singleness being brave.

Lately I’ve just felt in almost all spaces of my life that I’m right outside the circle. Like I’m just enough to be included but it’s only on account of others.
Like I’m allowed to dip my toes but not able to be fully submerged.
It’s hard to start these conversations or to even speak them out because of every little thing in my head that tells me that they aren’t valid. That I’m whining. That I should be stronger.
That I should just be grateful I have people.

But isn’t it wild that we are so conditioned into feeling guilt or shame for a thing we are designed to want?
I don’t know what you’ve been feeling guilt or shame for wanting these days.
I don’t know what lies people have told you or spoke over you to make it seem like your desire is less than.
I don’t know what season of life you’re looking at through the store windows.

I just know that it is ok to have moments that it’s hard to be looking through a window.
I know it’s ok to want that thing for yourself. Be it a spouse, a baby, a place of your own, a cat.
And I know that you shouldn’t be feeling guilty for wanting any of it.

I might talk about this more now, I might not. I might just tuck it into a box and deal with it later.

But I guess I’ll just leave you with this:
These words aren’t for pity. They aren’t for anyone to tell me all the stories of their cousin Brenda’s best friend who is hair dresser who met a man at 40. They aren’t for anyone to tell me let go and Let God.
They aren’t for you to tell me I’m brave.

They are a just a reminder that even the most independent, badass woman (and men) have deep breath to the toes moments, have sit on the kitchen floor in silence moments, have ponder the what-if moments and the take another breath, stand up and keep fucking going.
I don’t know what moment of silence you have to keep fucking going from; but I’m here with you.
You got this.
With love,
Meg