Up until this past Sunday, it would have been hard to find a more irritating phrase to my ears than the title of this week's blog. The joy of being single? What joy??
Over the years I seem to have crafted singleness into its own odd, and usually unwelcome, art form...time, love, and people just never seemed to line up according to whatever formula (which obviously everyone but me was aware of) produces enduring romantic relationships.
But this past Sunday, for one of the few, rare, memorable days of my life, I didn't care.
I spent the morning with one of my two closest friends. We chatted for hours about love, life, lessons, and everything in between.
Then I headed out for a blissful, vitamin-D-rich sun-walk. As I traversed the perimeters of our neighborhood park, bright sunlight streaming through the trees overhead, everyone and everything I saw seemed like it was bathed in warmth and love. I felt such profound gratitude that we were all outside, together, and able to enjoy the heck out of such a lovely day.
I was so in charity with life that every expression of love I saw (even the many expressions from the many couples, some of whom really should have gotten a room!) filled me with love too.The more I walked, the softer life felt, and the more welcoming.
I didn't recognize myself. I felt no envy, no jealousy, no sadness, no shame at the sight of all those couples, all that togetherness, as I was (once again) walking by my solitary self through a weekend's afternoon. I heard no recriminations in my head (oh how the ED voice loves to find new ways to attack us once we have finally thrown over its food-abusing ways!) about all the almost-hads, should-have-beens, do-overs.
I simply walked, in sync with the atmosphere and expression of love all around us. I INCLUDED myself in the oh-so-evident love, dealing myself in, reminding myself that I was there too, and a welcome part of something so much larger than just me, which was so wise, and so all-inclusive, and so encouraging.
I spent years holding myself apart, first because I was told I was too fat to be loved, next because I believed it, and finally because I had forgotten there was any other way.
Even after I recovered, I continued to hold myself apart, taking every bit of evidence of singleness, of separateness, as proof that there would always be a shadow of separation between me and the love I have dreamed of.
This past Sunday, the shadow simply disappeared.
And this is why, even on the days I don't perceive it, even on the days I can't feel it, I continue to believe that relationships replace eating disorders.
I also believe that, even if the journey doesn't start there, it ultimately ends with a stronger, more nurturing, loving relationship with ourselves. This past Sunday, I allowed myself to enjoy my own company. I included myself in the relationships I saw happening all around me, by enjoying the deep and supportive relationship I have built with myself.
I wasn't "single" that day. I was with myself.
And this, I have discovered, is what is meant by "the joy of being single."
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