Enjoying Apathy

There isn't a doubt in my mind that I would like to be in a relationship—a long term, healthy, mutual and passionate relationship—with a man. Much of my life in the last couple years has been pruning away things in my life so that it is possible to be in such a relationship. But there is this interesting internal phenomenon that is happening inside of me and has been for the last few months—it’s a ridiculously large amount of apathy and disinterest in dating. Though I do not desire to sound prideful, getting a date has never been difficult for me (keeping on is a different story!) I know that if I want to go out with someone, regardless of my motivation, I could find someone by tonight. But it literally has no interest for me. 

I’ve gone through these periods in my life before, but there has always seemed like a purpose. I’ve taken months/seasons off of dating because I needed to work on a specific area of my life or I needed to heal from a previous relationship. I’ve taken time off from dating because I really struggled to believe that there were any good men out there and was actually angry. I’ve even gone through times where I have felt apathetic in dating but even then, the apathy seemed to rise up as a result of one of these other reasons also being present. This time it’s completely different. The thought of going on dates with someone or trying to develop a relationship really feels like the last thing in the world that I would want to do right now. 

I sat with a friend over coffee several weeks ago and discussed this weird experience. I consider her my second mother and know that she wants the best for me but she was shocked to hear this news and said with near horror, “do you think you just don’t want to get married?” I chuckled and assured her that I did still want to get married but there just wasn’t a lot of effort on my end to invest in potential relationships. 

I had to spend some time thinking about her question though—was it possible that I didn’t want to get married? I mean, I’ve had fleeting moments of that thought, and sometimes being married is even difficult to imagine, but generally speaking, my desire to be in a relationships consistently outweighs any of these passing thoughts! It wasn’t adding up however—the desire to be in a relationship but no desire to seek out a relationship. I feared I might be slipping back into my Purity Culture mentality where I need to just be patient and wait for God to send the right guy to my door (like the UPS guy…and I mean, it’s entirely possible since I am pretty sure I have an addiction to shopping on Amazon). Or perhaps it would be like one of those romantic comedy movies where I’m walking down the road reading a book (because, don’t we all do that?) and I bump into a guy who’s doing the same, we reach down to pick up our books, catch each other’s gaze above our thick rimmed glasses and get married a few months later at the local library. 

I chuckle at these scenarios, but in honesty, they aren’t too far off from what I think might need to happen at this point in my life to really think about investing in a relationship. And of course I think about that phrase of “when you’re not looking for it, it will happen”. I’ve tried to live by that slogan a million times before (because maybe, just maybe if I can convince myself that I'm not looking for someone then the Universe will bring someone my way!) but this time it’s the truth! Even the thought of someone coming into my life—even THE one—sounds a a bit annoying! 

For those of you who have journeyed along with me, you’re probably thinking that I must have gone off my rocker. But I assure you, I’m relatively sane! 

What I have come to figure out, however, is that for the first time in my life, I truly don’t think the biggest goal, hope or dream is being in a relationship. I think for so much of my life I have consciously or sub-consciously made this one of my top priorities; it’s always remained as a background motivation for so much of what I do. And while I have never thought that I have needed to reject that motivation, it seems that right now as I live day to day and pursue my goals and dreams, a relationship (even one that ends in marriage) holds no motivating factor at all. 

At the beginning of the year I made the statement that “2015 was my year” without really unpacking what that statement meant…because, truth be told, I had no idea what that meant. I still have no idea what it means fully. One thing I didn’t think it would mean? Having no interest in a relationship! But to be honest, it’s totally fine! What this seems to allow me to do is focus on areas of my life that I am quite passionate about but have never pursued for various reasons and in this I am finding more of myself and truly enjoying life. 

The coolest part about being able to enjoy life like this is that while the desire to have a relationship in the future is not absent, the apathy that I feel right now is not a mask for shame, loneliness or resentment. For whatever reason the apathy towards relationships is allowing me freedom to enter, with gusto, other areas of my life that I can only imagine will serve to further develop who I am. There are still a lot of moments of 2015 left and it’s still possible that some of those moments could be shared with someone else. But maybe not either. Maybe the saying above (that when I’m not looking for love, I’ll find it) is true and maybe it’s not. But for the first time it’s not about that. And my friends, as odd as it sounds, there is so much freedom in that. Truly, 2015 is seeming to be my year! 

Public Shaming While Getting a Pedicure

I’m looking at my nails as I type this blog—overgrown cuticles, a few jagged edges, little chips of polish on a few nails. Un-filed, overgrown, unkempt. I really should go get a manicure but the last experience I had at the place that I go to get my nails done has me a bit skittish to go back. 

The last time I went to get my nails done was to get a pedicure about  2 1/2 months ago. It was the middle of winter and given how cold natured I am, my feet don’t see the light of day unless I am showering or switching out my pair of socks before I put  my slippers back on. No one sees my feet—not even me. But on that day I just wanted to get a pedicure—well truth be told, I really wanted the leg and foot massage and a chance to sit in one of those massage chairs for an hour—the polish was just the way to get there. 

So I went to the place about a mile from my house; and let me remind you, I went in fully knowing that the benefits of my pedicure three months prior had definitely worn off! The woman doing my pedicure asked me which type of pedicure I would like that day and I chose the basic package. She tried for a minute to upsell me but I stuck to my guns, even though I did promise her that the next time I came in I would go for the next level up. As she began her work on my feet she kept looking at me to tell me what terrible feet I had, how she couldn’t believe I had let them get so bad and how I really needed to take care of them and of course how buying the most expensive pedicure package would take care of it! Just 15 minutes prior I had been confident that my pasty white feet were simply a result of the previous 3 months of winter and all of the sudden I started to feel self conscious. 

As she continued on with each step of the pedicure process she seemed to make it painfully obvious to me that my feet needed a lot of work done. About half way through the pedicure she asked if I wanted a manicure. I mumbled something about not having time that day as she began telling me the same things about my hands as she did my feet. I think I literally started sweating in the chair! My hour of relaxation was quickly turning into an hour of being shamed. I calmly repeated that the basic pedicure was all I wanted for that day and after a few more attempts, she relinquished and continued working on my feet. Peace, at last. 

I mean, ya would have thought I was sporting something like this!

After getting the hot towels—my favorite part of the pedicure—she sat back down in her chair and told me that I really needed to wax my upper lip. I’ll admit, I was fully aware of that. I wasn’t growing a mustache or anything but I knew I was about due, but I also have a wax pot at home so I was going to do it myself. Fearing the further shame that I might incur if I declined this offer as well, I agreed to let her wax my upper lip. As she started the lip waxing process she told me I could also benefit from having my eyebrows done. By this point I was over the whole process and told her, firmly, “NO”. I mean seriously people, I have super thin and super light eye brows…I even color them once a month so that they match my dark hair and even when they are ‘overgrown’ I’m no Freida! 

I quickly paid for my services (and likely gave way too large of a tip for the badgering I received!) and got out of there. As I trudged back to my car in those little styrofoam flip flops I caught myself crunching numbers to see how I might be able to swing a monthly mani/pedi in my budget—apparently I was in dire need. I pulled on the calculator in my phone and began to do the math when I realized how deeply this experience was effecting me. I do fully realize that this woman was simply doing her job—the more services she offered the more she got paid; this was a business transaction for her. But in ‘doing her job’ I left left the nail salon feeling terrible about myself and thinking about all of the things that I needed to prioritize in my physical appearance to be more appealing to the public. I admit, I even thought that perhaps paying more attention to the details might earn me a few dates with respectable guys!

The beauty industry is a multi-billion dollar industry. Every day we are bombarded by messages, commercials and even our friends, family and co-workers that all seem to have something that we don’t—their hair, their outfit, those arms, that pair of boots, that jewelry, that color of nail polish. Advertisers do their jobs by getting us to believe that if we have whatever product it is that they are selling we will be the pinnacle of whatever lifestyle goal we are trying to achieve.

I would even venture to say that we know this to an extent. We know that washing our hair with Herbal Essence’s shampoo and conditioner will not draw men to us like a Siren and yet we see those commercials and there is a little voice in our head that wonders “well…maybe…” And so we continue our trek to add value to ourselves through the mediums sold to us by commercials, in magazines and quirky women at the nail salon. 

I mean really, is having a monthly mani/pedi really going to make me a better therapist? Is it going to improve my writing skills? Is it going to make me a more compassionate friend or help me seek after social justice in a more innovative way? Is this going to make me a better lover, more honest or more authentic? Likely not. And yet I get caught up believing that these external markers of beauty (which are culturally induced and defined—and subjective) are the things that are going to push me to the top and really give me the edge on my competitors.

I’m not suggesting that we let ourselves go or even that looking nice, taking pride in how one looks or having nice, expensive or unique things is a bad thing. Getting our nails done, our hair colored or getting our legs waxed is perfectly fine. But these are not the things that are going to add to our value as an individual.  

I would imagine that when we let these external, subjective markers of beauty be the definers of who we are as a person, we will have many more sweaty moments on the massage chair. Truth be told, I’m probably going to get a pedicure this weekend—spring is right around the corner and with sandal season upon us, my gnarly feet need a little bit of attention. I think this time though I might bring some music and ear buds with me so that I don’t get caught up in pondering the manicurists words and find myself seriously considering that the answer to all life’s problems would be solved through the color of my toenails.

The Right to My Story

In the recent past I have become aware of how much I value authenticity. Perhaps it goes hand in hand with my love of connecting to others, but I have always valued a platform of being open and honest about one’s self and not needing to hide. Hiding, to me, feels dishonest and yucky and keeping something from someone sometimes feels like I am living a lie. I’m sure this bent towards authenticity comes from a deep craving for it within my family. Growing up I always knew there were secrets; looks and glances were exchanged, voices hushed, certain topics of conversation ceased when certain people walked into the room. I was a pretty intuitive kid so I noticed this. It wasn’t until years later, until my 30’s actually, that many of the family secrets were finally brought into the open and most of what I guessed to be true was actually found to be true. There were large parts of my life that began to make sense and the sharing of secrets opened up into a light space that made interactions not quite so uncomfortable. 

I can understand why this drive towards authenticity exists in me. Always wanting to know the truth about what was going on but never really knowing it probably led to a huger for truth and a motivation to just be up front with who I was. Interestingly enough, authenticity, while always a value, has been a learned practice for me—safe authenticity has not always been present in my life. I grew up in a culture where authenticity was required in the form of accountability for punishment, judgment and shaming purposes. Openness and questions (about life, love, faith, the world, etc.) were typically met with a harsh attitude in which people would use the information they gathered against you when the time was right. I developed a struggle within me swinging back and forth between wanting desperately to be authentic and known by others and fearing the repercussions of someone using my story and my deepest thoughts against me. 

In doing my own work I have come to recognize not only my own value of authenticity and why it has been so difficult for it in the past but I have started to learn how to live out that value in my day to day life. In my professional life I live in a world that consists of complete authenticity—free from judgement and harsh criticism; it’s the beauty of therapy. Personally I have chosen for the people who I most closely surround myself with to also be people who I can be open and honest with—who refrain from judgement and shaming and who offer their own authenticity back to me. 

In fact, it’s gotten to the point where I sometimes naively believe that no one will judge me for my story—the life I have created for myself honors the value of authenticity and absence of judgementalism and I sub-consciously expect for others to offer me the same. The sad truth is that, though ideal, this is not reality. 

This is not a concept I have understood with ease. In my mind I did one of those “opposite sides of the spectrum” thing—because I had spent so many years inhibited from authenticity it seemed only natural to swing to the opposite side of the spectrum and have a ‘no-holds-barred’ mentality and let anyone know anything about me. But as we know, neither side of the spectrum is really great to camp out on. 

        I have seen this to be very evident in dating. Men who I went on a handful of dates with would know, sometimes, intimate details of my past and relationships simply because they asked the question “why are you still single?” In my mind I felt an obligation to let them know the truth—I grew up in an uber religious home and once I got out of that I was in an abusive relationship from which I have done a lot of therapeutic work on and am finally at a place to have something to give to another. While entirely true, this was being said to someone who had not yet earned a position in my life to know this. They barely knew my last name—they certainly didn’t need to know the wounds of mine that had just healed or were still healing! 

Part of my desire for authenticity is also because I don’t enjoy playing games. While I don’t need to know all the minute details of someone within the first couple dates, I appreciate someone being able to share with me appropriate amounts of their life at appropriate times in the relationship. But it seems that in today’s day and age this process, like so many others, is a bit warped in what information is requested/expected of another in comparison to the level of the relationship. In my naivety I have believed that if someone is going to ask a personal question they have a level of investment that will allow for me to offer a more detailed or personal answer. 

As an example: I have been asked, multiple times, on the first date if I have ever been pregnant. Not do I have kids or do I want to have kids. They don’t even ask if I am currently pregnant. They have asked if I have ever been pregnant. How do you, safely, answer a question like that? What if I say “no” and the relationship continues on and then I have to come back and tell them I lied to them? But if I say “yes” then it seems that they would want to know why I don’t have any children (which leads to a further discussion…did I have an abortion, miscarry, give the kids up for adoption or not have custody of the children?) This is quite the situation to put someone in that you have known for less than a couple hours—and even more of a dilemma when you hold a value of authenticity!

Another example might be the choice that I have made not to drink for a while; when I go on a date where we meet for drinks and I order a club soda or Diet Coke, I inevitably get the question, “why aren’t you drinking?” Part of me feels the need to urgently assure them that I’m not an alcoholic who is working on sobriety or pregnant. But then I know if I take those two things off the table I am at risk of having to explain that I am having some health related issues that I have been working on and am choosing not to drink in order to heal my body. That’s a whole other can of worms. Telling the guy that “I am just choosing not to drink for a while” never seems to sit well at just that, yet they know very little about me that would make me feel comfortable sharing my entire health history. 

In chatting about this concept with friends, I know that I am not the only one in this situation. I have heard stories and had my own experiences of men asking questions about sex, past relationships, mental health issues, trauma, family issues and so much more within the first couple dates. Often times when we get these highly inappropriate questions we are faced with this pressure to give an answer AND an explanation. So if I say “yes” or “no” to a question, I must also explain why that is, how I got to that decision and the important life events that have shaped me and I have grown from in order to make my yes my yes or my no my no. And while the person on the listening end of the conversation might appear to be interested in your response he has not yet earned the right in your life to hear that much about you. 

This is a real thing, people! 

So…what’s a girl to do?

The only answer that I can come up with is: appropriate authenticity—and this requires a bit of boldness. This first means that I take time to reflect on what I feel comfortable sharing about my life with just about anyone—whether I meet you on a date, in a community group or on a city bus. I recognize that on the first few dates these are the things that I can feel safe talking about with my potential suitor and allow myself permission to become aware if it feels like things are going into uncomfortable territory. Secondly, it means that I can give an answer to a question without an explanation; and if an explanation is requested I can share that the story behind that answer isn’t something you share with just anyone. Or, if it’s a really absurd question (like “have you ever been pregnant?”) I might just need to ignore the question altogether and change the subject. 

Yeah, sure…they might have bought you dinner or even poured their own heart and soul out to you. But that was their choice. You have a choice in the matter as well. Your story is all they have—make sure that the people you share it with have proven worthy of such an honor. 

My Anthropologie Quilt

Since Christmas I have been saving my money to buy a bedding set from Anthropologie. They are quite pricey but they are beautiful, well made and so soft; I found one on their website that seemed to fit my style and personality and so I faithfully kept my eye on it as I continued tucking money away. Then the text came from my sister-in-law that it was finally “Anthro-days” which meant that members got 20% off; it was finally time to buy this beautiful bedding set. It was already in my cart, all I needed to do was hit the “purchase” button; I smiled with excitement when I did. 

I was dismayed to see a message pop up on my screen that the beautiful quilt I was ordering was on back order and wouldn’t ship until the end of July. I quickly scrolled through the other bedding sets on the site to see if perhaps I should order a different one— which only confirmed that this was the one that I wanted—so I indicated that I was ok waiting until the summer; I had already waited 3 months, what was another few months going to hurt?

A few days later the pillow shams that were a part of the bedding set arrived at my door; I admired their beauty but was simultaneously sad that I would have to wait another four months to complete the set. A week later I checked my bank account and noticed that the remaining amount of the order total had been charged to my card. This could only mean one thing: somehow the quilt wasn’t back ordered and it was about to ship! I checked my Anthropologie account and to my delight it was preparing for shipment—in two days it was going to be on my doorstep!

Out of sheer giddiness I checked the tracker the next day and saw that the delivery date had been moved back a week. A week? How could I stand to wait another week for this quilt? It seemed like such a long time (and I realize even as I am writing this how overly dramatic I sound, but these were really the thoughts going on in my head!) I checked back every day, multiple times per day even, to see where it was at in the shipping process, what part of the country my quilt had traveled to that day and crossed my fingers as I hoped to see that perhaps the delivery date had been moved up. No such luck. The UPS gods didn’t seem to feel my quilt delivery was as urgent as I did. 

In moments of reflection (or maybe sanity?) it has struck me as odd how impatient I was about this quilt. Just a few weeks ago I thought this quilt would arrive as a belated birthday gift and I was prepared, and willing, to wait. But the possibility (and now reality) of it being here months sooner somehow decreased my ability to wait and my gut reaction was “what’s wrong with me?”

I have always been told that patience is a virtue. Patience has always been a characteristic that I have admired and desired to cultivate in my own life. In many ways, patience seems to be my middle name.

Being patient is one of the bedrocks of being a therapist; I go at the speed my client needs to go at rather than the speed I would prefer. I remember, after observing one of my sessions, my intern told me “how can you be so patient with her? Don’t you want to just tell her the answer?” It was true, I could have told her the answer that she was looking for. It would have been much easier (and likely could have saved her some time and money in therapy), but part of my need to be patient was so that she could figure out the answer herself. Only by providing a space to be patient and free of hurrying was she going to be able to come to a lasting and meaningful conclusion herself.

As a young adult I used to pray for patience. I chuckle now that I felt so urgent about praying for patience—obviously if you are praying for patience there is something that you need to be patient for. Back then I was praying for patience to wait for my future husband. As a newly graduated high school senior, I had no idea that patience might mean 15+ years of waiting! I don’t pray for patience in that area anymore—I pray for an expedited process! 

Perhaps it was the culture I grew up in, the stigma around stating what you really needed or wanted or the societal push towards hyper-independence, but somewhere along the way I started to believe that part of being patient meant denying the feelings and the process that went along with it. In my mind, praying for my future husband was supposed to somehow make it easier to be single or it should take away any lingering frustration that all of my friends were planning weddings and I was instead picking out bridesmaid dresses with them. 

In those moments feeling the frustration or downright denying that I had any sort of negative thoughts and emotions towards the situation(s) only made patience feel that much more unattainable. The harder I tried to ignore what I actually wanted and the more I tried to shove my emotions under the rug, the more of a struggle it was to actually embody this quality that I was praying for. 

What I have come to realize is this: my impatience for my quilt coming isn’t some sort of a character defect. It doesn’t mean that I am overly anxious or materialistic. My impatience comes from the fact that I am so excited about this quilt and what it represents. It was chosen carefully, it was well thought out and planned for and it was all about delayed gratification. It is one of the first purchases I have made for myself in which I wasn’t trying to simply get a deal or make due with the cheaper or knock off version of something even though I didn’t really like it as much as the original, more expensive version. The colors and pattern represent something about me and the season of life I am in; placing it on my bed pulls my room together in a way that is appealing to me rather than waiting to decorate in a way that is pleasing to the eye until I am sharing my bedroom with someone else. It’s about the quilt but it’s so not about the quilt. 

I’ve caught myself many times over the past week telling myself to calm down, reassuring myself that Wednesday will get here before I know it and I need to just think about something else. I am well aware that my strong desire for my quilt to get here is not actually going to speed up the process. But I am also realizing that trying to forget about it or give myself mental pep talks doesn’t necessarily make me feel better either. 

Melanie Beattie, in her book “The Language of Letting Go”, said, “do not confuse the suggestion to be patient with the old rule about not having feelings.” 

It has taken me a long time to give myself permission to accept the combination of patience and emotions. Like the song that my mother sang to us growing up, I immediately associated impatience with anxiety; there were many verses in the Bible that told us we weren’t supposed to worry, what we were supposed to do with our anxieties and the inverse assumption that if you were worrying there was something that you were trying to control (and therefore not fully trusting God). I think I likely prayed for patience in waiting [for my future husband] so that I wouldn’t be seen by others as being untrusting. Or in the case of my quilt, demonstrating patience somehow nurtured fears I might have about being materialistic or vain. 

But at the bottom of all of it is this: being patient isn’t about trying to pretend that everything is ok and that you like waiting for the thing you are waiting for. Patience doesn’t mean that the thing you are waiting for is delayed so that you really learn your lesson. Patience doesn’t mean I can’t anticipate, wish for or be excited for what is coming. Patience likely will require

waiting and it might also involve keeping yourself in check but I can’t help wonder if the characteristic of patience can also reveal the things that we desire the most, are the most important to us and have the deepest meanings in our lives.

It’s funny how much you can learn about yourself when you purchase a quilt. Seriously though, tomorrow needs to hurry up and get here…

The Gift of Loneliness

If there was one emotion that I wish I never had to feel again it would be loneliness. The thought of being loved, accepted, considered, needed and in meaningful relationships without having to feel that pit of loneliness ever again would be truly amazing. Loneliness is a feeling I have come to know quite well; it's a feeling that I have been 'forced' to reckon with as long as I can remember and I don't anticipate I will stop dealing with it anytime soon. And by soon, I mean until I am no longer on this earth. 

Learning how to deal with loneliness has been quite a process and like anything it seems to have vast layers that surface with overwhelming force at very inopportune times. I used to think that the loneliest I could be was when I would hear of the girls that I had mentored as middle and high schoolers getting married and having babies. Then all of my younger brothers got married and I realized that was a new level of loneliness that I had never experienced before. When my third and final brother got married last fall, I had become accustomed to dealing with this emotion and was able to make it through the wedding with much serenity. 

I've experienced loneliness in diagnosable amounts anytime I have broken up with someone; residual effects of missing someone's companionship or just having someone to say goodnight to can take it's toll. Loneliness has come from celebrating holidays alone, Friday nights alone or even from being the one amidst my friends who traditionally has to do the pursuing and planning if I want to hang out with anyone. Loneliness comes when I am the afterthought of being invited somewhere, the "hey, someone else backed out...wanna come?" friend or the one who sees on social media that everyone is hanging out without you. Basically, I've felt like I have really excelled at processing through, feeling and not denying the emotion of loneliness. 

Lest I get comfortable in how to deal with this emotion, I experienced a entirely different level of loneliness when my grandmother passed away earlier this year. Never before had I experienced such a depth of despair and aloneness. It couldn't compare to all of my break-ups, Friday nights alone or brothers getting married combined. 

Sure, I had family around me and people to talk to. Even though I spent a good long time actively numbing my emotion initially, I still knew there were people around me. But when I saw and talked to my grandfather in the days leading up to my grandmother's funeral, the pit of loneliness was undeniable.  I did miss my grandmother and I don't think I ever have to stop that, but it was watching my grandfather break into tears as he thought of his beloved wife of nearly 72 years being gone that the loneliness settled in. As he told stories and recalled events from the previous seven decades what became most obvious was how important and actually essential this relationship was to him. 

As I experienced him talking about, recounting, laughing and crying over memories of her, their depth of relationship was so apparent and so powerful that you could not ignore it. Not only did I feel lonely for my grandfather, I suddenly was faced with a reality of knowing that I had never experienced such a love--so pure, so enduring, so healing, so enjoyable and so steadfast and I knew in an instant how much I wanted it. In the absence of that great love that my grandfather spoke of rested instead loneliness that only magnified that human need for relationship.  

While I have done a great deal of work in processing my own loneliness prior to the passing of my grandmother I had never really understood the purpose of it. In my head and by putting on my therapist hat I knew that there was a gift in identifying and feeling lonely but I've always felt like it's a gift that I have never received. In "Voice of the Heart" by Chip Dodd, he explains that the gift of loneliness is relationship. When we allow ourselves to truly understand, know and feel our loneliness what we get is the transcending knowledge that we desperately need to be in relationships with others; we are created for relationship. Experiencing and feeling loneliness allows to tap into some of the deepest parts of ourselves in order to reach out and cultivate meaningful and intimate relationships. Experiencing and feeling loneliness taps into our fears of being betrayed, rejected and hurt and plants in us a zeal that is willing to risk relationships despite the potential hurt. Essentially it allows us to see that the reward of relationship far outweighs the risk. 

So, what it boils down to is this: I am coming to a place where I can realize and accept there will not be a point on this earth that I will never feel lonely again. There will always be points where even small doses of loneliness may creep up. But the loneliness serves as a reminder and motivation of my humanity, my need for relationships and the joy that I can experience in these relationships.

Honestly, I don't believe that a relationship is a fix all for the emotion of loneliness. I have been in relationships before where the loneliness I have felt is even greater than the loneliness I have experienced being single. But the truth of the matter is that often times we can not experience the depth of joy of a relationship if we have not also experienced the other end of the spectrum--the depth of loneliness in absence of a relationship. The loneliness allows us to cherish and desire relationship that likely could not be present if the loneliness had not first occurred.

As I write this I am sitting in an airport coming home from my grandfather's funeral; he passed away just six weeks after his sweetheart, my grandmother, did. The doctors diagnosed him as dying from takotsubo cardiomyopathy--dying from broken heart syndrome. The loneliness in my own self has lessened a bit knowing that my grandparents are now together again; they are no longer lonely for each other. While they gave me many gifts while here on this earth through their life they have given me a beautiful gift in their death--they have given me the gift of relationship; of knowing how beautiful, healing and what a necessity it is. I will continue to miss them, to be sad that they are gone and to, always, wish that they were still here. These things never have to stop and I can honor the amazing presence that they were in my life by feeling my loneliness and accepting their gift and example of relationship.