Tonight after CrossFit, where I’m getting better, I had a reality hit me.
I’m completely single. Not temporarily. Not for a moment, sort of a little bit single. I’m completely single. I looked around my bedroom and it was shocking. Everything is only, completely, singly mine. It made me dizzy and things looked odd. My shoes. My face wash. Only mine. The flowers. The bed. Not waiting for someone to come back home. Not holding their breath for someone to new arrive. Simply, singly, mine. Alone.
My body is mine. My clothes. My house. My car. My bills. My food. My responsibilities. My children. My life.
This is the oddest feeling ever. I cried. And Cried. And then I looked in the mirror and saw me. Singly, only me. Not attached to anyone. Not waiting for anyone. Independent.
I feel very much like one of the characters in the book my agent is sending out next week. And I wonder how I wrote about a reality I didn't fully appreciate until just now. The kingdom is mine. Someone has to rule it. And I’m the one. I have people to help, but this life is only, singly, mine.
I had thought being strong meant being a wife and mother. I'd thought reality was Happily Ever After, and this was a quick detour around a little bump in the road. Now I discover reality can also mean being completely, utterly single.
And for the first time ever I think, “So this is what it feels like to be a grown up.”