Part of my to-do list for this week on my self-proclaimed happiness for beginners journey, was to watch the movie adaptation of Happiness for Beginners. Lets just say it took less than fifteen minutes into the movie and there were enough, “No no, in the book…” moments to frustrate me into pausing it and finding something else. Perhaps on the quest for happiness, I need to remember that watching the movie after reading the book, doesn’t equate to my joy. But, I do have a list of things I did that brought me joy. I had coffee with Wilma in Trevallyan, it was raining for half the time, but we didn’t mind. We just huddled under the umbrella, let the rain pour, and talked for hours. Wilma, coffee, and the smell of rain make me happy. I rode to Bellingham, a beach full of dunes an hour away from home, right on the Bass Strait. I screamed as Jack drove his truck around impossible turns and up insane hills, I put my feet in the ocean, and I let my hair go crazy in the wind. Jack, the views, and adventures make me happy. Though I had one of my best days since moving here this week, I also had some hard moments.
I’ve realized that, though I am an introvert, though I gain rest and energy from being alone, I do everything in my power to not be. It’s as if the second I’m alone with nothing planned, I completely shut down. Because, as I’ve discussed, I’m actually having a quiet moment to process… my life. This stage is supposed to be about healing. Healing from my childhood, my marriage, the mistakes of last year, of every heartbreak that I’ve been too busy to process, but I’ve still kept myself from being alone. The only time in this past week that I’ve truly been alone was Monday afternoon, and Thursday, but I slept until three in an attempt to keep myself from being alone for longer than I could handle, and I managed a three hour phone call. In terms of allowing myself time to heal and process, I’ve been doing awful. But today was different. Today, I didn’t have any distractions planned, and I felt the weight of my hurt crash over me.
Sundays are both a blessing and incredibly painful. I enjoy the community of church, of being around people who share the same beliefs as me, and I enjoy being both uplifted and challenged by the service. What’s difficult about church is that it reminds me simultaneously of how I’m not alone, yet also, how alone I am. I can walk in that building and sit with anyone, and I’ll be welcomed, and that’s absolutely wonderful. But in the afternoon service, I entered, I didn’t spot any of my familiar seatmates, and I sat alone. It was Molly Shutt, family of one. I watched as my friends entered and sat with their significant others or their family, and the weight of what I didn’t have hit me. Sitting there, with no one beside me, my usual armor gone; I felt bare to all my feelings. The service was beautiful, but the entire time, I found myself trying and failing to hold back my tears. I was in a room full of people, my spiritual family, but I was overwhelmed with my lack of family.
Sometimes, it’s a constant battle in my mind of accepting what was, what isn’t, and what wasn’t supposed to be. During the infant baptism today, I couldn’t help but cry, because all I could think was, “That’s supposed to be me.” I shouldn’t be sitting in church alone, I shouldn’t have empty arms; I should be a wife and a mother, but I am neither of those things. Until that life is in your hands, motherhood a fingers touch away, you won’t understand the feeling of not having it anymore. Of watching people get married and have babies, and think of how it should be you, and wonder if it ever will be you. I came home from church to an empty home and I felt hollow. I wanted to reach out to someone, to fill the space, but I didn’t. I decided to let myself feel it, whatever it was, and know that it would be okay. It wasn’t now, but eventually, it would be. So, I ate a carrot cake muffin, sat on my couch, and I contemplated. Then, I did what I do best but haven’t done in forever, I started working on my novel. I wrote until I cried and stopped crying and cried again, I wrote until I knew I couldn’t write anymore. I decided to ask myself, what do you need to do to feel like you? How will you make the most of your party of one?
The bright side is that being a party of one can have its perks. I could write on my couch and talk to myself, and no one came by to interrupt me. I could make an unreasonable girl dinner that consisted of white cheddar, double cream brie, salami, olives, cashew dip, biscoff cookies, and a Diet Pepsi, and no one could complain about it. I could watch whatever movie I wanted, and I could scream at the scary parts, laugh at the comedy, and be inspired by such good story telling. Afterwards, I could put my headphones on full blast, and dance around my living room, smiling like a mad woman. No one was there to stop me when I opened my sliding doors into the rainy night, listening to Dancing Barefoot by U2, and literally danced barefoot in the rain. Yeah, sometimes, being a party of one sucks, and all I want to do is crawl in a hole, or wish for what could be. But also, being a party of one, of being single and living alone, with no obligations to another person, is pretty awesome. I want to allow myself the grace to feel the pain and mourn what isn’t, but as well, I also want to allow myself the space to be alone, to realize that my company is enough, and I’ve only got this one life to live. Tomorrow, I might be sad again, but then I’ll probably go on a run, or write, or read my Bible, and it’ll turn around. For now, I’ll probably just go dance barefoot in the rain again, because I’ve discovered it’s another thing that makes me happy, it’s another thing that makes being a party of one, well, a party.
Yours Truly,
the Brightside Blonde
This is the marshy view I have on my runs beside my house, also, spotted a baby wallaby and echidna on my run this week. Wilma and I had beautiful heart lattes.
Jack took me on a tour of Bridport, before threatening my life at every turn on the dunes. He’s a great driver, and probably the only person I would trust to take me off roading, or dune climbing, like that.