Not that I’m really eleven on my own, anyway, it’s more like six now. Eight still live here, true, but they have jobs and licenses and college and they pretty much buy their own stuff, and think on their own, too. It’s great. They are awesome friends, as well.
I don’t want to be 11 on my own anymore, because I don’t want to be on my own anymore. I really, really thought I did. Like forever. After tbj left, how he left, what he did after he left, what he did while he was still there, what our marriage was like, what the last one was like, and how that one ended – I never, ever thought I would ever want a man in my life again. No, not a woman, either. Geez.
I spent the last 7 1/2 years avoiding men, being in a situation where I could possibly be hit on, or asked out – I went out socially with my adult sons, priests, or married girlfriends. Very, very safe.
So what changed?
Well, my oldest three got married. Happily married, to their best friends. The parties in our social circle are all full of couples, and me. All of my closest friends are happily married to men who *gasp* treat them nicely. My younger children have been overheard to say they wished they had a father. No, not that father. A nice father who will actually acknowledge their existence – like their friends’ fathers. All great guys.
There may be great guys out there. Other people I know have them. My cousins do. My aunt does. I want one, too. In fact, I have been praying for one. A lot.
My children are getting older. Almost half of them are adults, and a quarter of them are living their lives with their spouse. I don’t want to attend another one of my kid’s weddings without someone to share it with. I want to dance and celebrate with someone of my own.
Pretty soon there will be no one left here but me. That depresses me to death. I don’t want to die alone.
I know there are a couple of my kids who don’t understand this. I struck out, why would I want to risk putting myself out there again? How much pain can I take? They are overprotective of me, these children who have their own lives and don’t understand how I can feel lonely in a house full of people. I appreciate it, I do, but I think after 15 years with a sociopath, and 7 1/2 years with myself and my thoughts, and my God I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I also know that there are people in the community who don’t think I should ever be married again – they’ve told me so – and it is really none of their business how I live my life, no matter how much they think it is or try to make it.
I have a beautiful family, wonderful kids, a Nursing School admission, a promising future career. Much to be thankful for.
Yet, I would never need anything else if I could experience happiness and grow old with someone who loved me because it’s all around me and it gets really, really hard to always be just me.