The Fear of Being Alone

October of this year marked 5 years since I had filed for divorce. January will be 5 years I've been separated, and next April 5 years since my divorce has been final. In these 5 years, my life has been drastically changed in every way imaginable.

I make every effort to live now with no regrets; live like there's no tomorrow, and to take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. Since I've done this, I've met incredible, amazing people. I've learned so much about myself. I've been able to travel, and completed things I never thought I could do, especially considerate of 5 years ago when it seemed as though my world was falling apart. I love my life. Sometimes I think I really am so lucky, and wonder if I deserve it. But, sometimes there feels like something is missing. (Note I said sometimes.)

Divorce, even when it's the best thing for you, isn't easy. It's hard. It sucks. It makes you cry. It makes you scream. It makes you regret. It makes you hurt. I don't regret making the decision, however. I think my ex and I are both much better people because of it. I know it's hard to understand for people, especially those who have never been married, and beyond that, those who have never been divorced. Every situation is different, every situation unique. Trust me, though. It was the best decision for both of us.

Today I saw a couple walking into Target, holding hands. They were probably late 20's or early 30's. I have no idea if they were married or dating, but they were looking at each other laughing. Now, I'm always joking that I'll be the crazy cat lady, 80 years old, single, with my 10 cats. I think the people who know me for me know that I really don't want that. On the contrary, I don't think I'm anywhere near ready for marriage. But sometimes, I do wonder, will I be alone forever? I saw that couple today and it made me want what they had. Mainly I want that best friend; someone I can call when I have a crappy day just to talk; someone that will hug me at the end of the crappy day. Someone who wants to share their sorrows and happiness with me, someone who will laugh and cry with me. Someone to call my own. Someone I can enjoy life with.

People constantly tell me that I'm young, that it'll come. While I realize that 27 is still young, I also know that I am not your typical 27 year old. I have 2 young children. That changes the dating field dramatically. Most guys within a 5 mile radius of my age turn the other direction and sprint away when they figure that out. Then people say, well you don't want to be with them anyway. Is that true? It is, because in order for me to have any sort of relationship with someone, they have to be accepting of my kids as well. We are a package deal. You don't get just me, you get Kassidy and Kayden too. I understand that it'll take a special type of person to understand and accept that. Sometimes, though, I get a twinge of fear of always being alone. I certainly hope that I can share my life with someone. Even though I wouldn't want to be with someone who isn't accepting of my situation, it doesn't make it any easier to sometimes wonder.

I haven't had a "boyfriend" in nearly a year now. And it's really been a wonderful year. I've been able to concentrate on the kids and myself. I think I'm a better person now, which makes me a better mother. I've found out so much about me and what I am about. It sounds cheesy and cliche, but I really took the time to find myself. I know before I can love someone else, I have to love me. I'm getting there. I have been in good relationships and bad. I've learned that I deserve someone who is going to be good to me, and I've learned not to put up with any crap. While I still don't know exactly what I want in a man, I think I have a fairly good idea. I know that out there somewhere, when the time is right, I will find someone who will complement me well. Someone who will love me for me, and not ask me to change; someone who I can love for who he is, and not ask him to change. In the meantime, every once in awhile, I still get that small fear; that small fear of always being alone.