Who’s going to comfort me?

Being single sucks sometimes. We are all faced with difficult decisions every day. However, there are times when the burden of making a choice is carried easier with support. This is one of those times when I wish I had someone to make me feel better about the choice I am making.

My cat was recently hospitalized for a condition that though curable was life-threatening. It was costly and it wounded me that I had to even contemplate whether spending my entire savings on his treatment was the wisest decision. Even if I did eventually decide that his feline companionship and status as a member of my tiny household were important enough, so I elected to pay for his surgery.

I miss my cat.

I want someone to hold my hand and tell me things will be all right. These tough moments are trying and it is a burden that even if during the marriage I did feel I carried most of the responsibility, there was an implied sharing (if hardly ever actual sharing) of the distress that stems from the accountability.

I tend to overthink situations, and the decision to spend my savings to rehabilitate my cat was very difficult to make. We have a rough history with pets getting sick, and the last time it happened was when my dog got sick, and eventually passed. Therefore, not getting my cat hospitalized wasn’t really a choice. If there is a chance we can save him, then the only option is to do whatever it takes if I can afford it.

Would have been nice to have had someone to support me with assurances that I made the right decision. That the money situation would work itself out. Even if they were empty platitudes, having another voice other than my own to talk me down off the ledge would have been a great comfort.

In times like these,  I wouldn’t mind having a strong shoulder to lean on, and it’s tempting. Until I think that the shoulder would be attached to a body, and that body would have a head and a mouth and probably a brain. Then whatever that brain told the mouth to say would probably end up hurting me and I would have to deal with being wounded again–and isn’t that just so NOT worth it.

So yeah. Being single sucks.

But being alone is different from being lonely. I am digging my new solitude. I love the freedom, I am enjoying knowing that I am not compromising any aspect of my personality or self for another person, especially one who doesn’t understand me.

Though the idea of having a partner is still the accepted ideal, I have serious doubts if I will ever date again, much less involve myself in another committed relationship.

I have recently started a long-distance correspondence with an old friend that I used to work with some years ago. I knew that he had a crush on me when we were working together, but I never encouraged his crush, nor acknowledged his interest because I was married at the time.

Upon learning of my divorce, he reached out to me and I agreed to text back and forth. We are communicating on Facebook though I am trying to keep it casual.

Even now I am hesitant to say anything that might falsely encourage him, despite the geographical distance, because I don’t wish to get his hopes up. I have seen what happens with obsessed individuals, and I wouldn’t put it past anyone to just hop on a plane and show up on my doorstep because I led him to believe I would welcome the sudden attention.

I am not desperate, and I am not cruel. I will not lead anyone on falsely.

It would take a great deal to tempt me to trust another man again.

I can barely trust the people I share blood with (my children being the ONLY exception). What hope is there for a person to which I am not connected at all except by passing affection?

I am not even sure I trust my judgment of what is love vs lust. I look back on my relationship with mr Horrible and doubt that I ever knew what the hell I was thinking accepting his proposal. I can’t help but look back and see it as one big mistake. To that end, I conclude that I am not sure I can trust myself.

I applaud anyone who can find someone to love again.

Maybe one day that will be the case with me, if I ever figure out if I even loved at all in the first place. Doubt is a hell of a thing.