30 Approaches and Yes, I'm Still Single

It’s no one’s fault, really. It’s just the way society is wired. You are supposed to be married with kids before you are thirty, or married and seriously considering kids at the very least.

Really, it’s almost taboo to be a 29-year-old who isn’t married or on the path to marriage. On an almost daily basis, you get bombarded with questions like, “You seeing anyone?” or “Don’t you want to get married?” and of course “You want kids, right? You’re not getting any younger, you know.” 

Perhaps the worst thing about those questions is that they are loaded. People ask those questions expecting a certain answer and if you don’t give that answer, there must be something wrong with you.

People always give me the strangest looks when I answer these questions that are, quite frankly, none of their dang business. 

No, I’m not seeing anyone. Yes, it's okay. Do I want to get married? Maybe. I’m not really worried about it. (*shock* *gasp*) Kids? I don’t know. (*shock* *gasp* *kid-hater staredown*)

Here’s the problem I have with those questions…other than the aforementioned “none of their dang business” part. The problem is that these questions assume that getting married and having (or rather TO have) kids should be the driving point and main goal of every person’s life. And that is just not true. We all know that some people are not fit to be parents. And in fact, we are very quick to point that out when we see it, yet at the same time this society who so readily points out flaws in others’ parenting pressures those who are not yet parents to become just that.

Maybe some people are not parents because they do not want to be parents. Maybe some people are not parents because they are not ready to be parents. And maybe...some people are not parents because they can't be parents.

That's not the case with me. You see, I am not a parent, because I have not found someone with whom to raise a child. Pressure to be married and have children by a certain age is what drives people to get married for the wrong reasons. If I were going by my “biological clock” right now, I’d be starting a relationship with the first available guy that came my way. Because yeah, that’s healthy. That’s a way to ensure that I will have a lasting marriage and a good parenting partner, right?

Wrong.

I refuse to be cornered by my age. I refuse to be cornered by society’s opinion on what I should do with MY life.

I’m not opposed to getting married. I’m not opposed to having kids. I’m simply opposed to doing those things for the wrong reasons.

I want to get married once—to the right person for me. And if I don’t find that person, I will remain single. Crazy idea, isn’t it? Even crazier? I’ll be alright that way. Because it is far better to be single, than to be trapped in a miserable relationship.

And kids? If I meet the right guy, and we get married….kids could definitely be in the picture. He could already have kids, and that would be perfectly fine. If I don’t meet the right guy, kids could still be in the picture. I could still adopt. If/when I am ready to do so.

To tell the truth, the most painful thing about being single, is being told by society that I’m not supposed to be single, that I’m wrong for not being married at my age.

But despite all that, I’m still doing alright. I’m doing alright living on my own, making decisions on my own, and discovering who I am and what I want out of life. Something wrong with that? Sue me.

Or just worry about yourself. That would work, too.

Runner

I’m a runner. It’s what I do. I run away from pain. I run away from happiness. I run away from hate, sadness, uncertainty…love. And all those other things that seem out of my control. In truth, I think the only way that I DON'T run is the healthy way.

You see, I'm a professional. I’ve been running for a long time, for as long as I can remember, really. Running through avoidance, through only wanting and loving what I can’t have. What can’t be. Because what can’t be…is safe. It can’t hurt any more that I allow it to. And even though sometimes that hurts a lot….at least it’s me hurting myself. And for some reason, that’s alright with me. But to let others hurt me? To let others CLOSE enough to hurt me?

That is something I flee from.

So imagine my surprise when I didn’t walk away from you. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t hide. When I wanted to reach out and hold our hand….when I tried so hard to cling to your side instead of run…when I couldn’t keep you at a distance. When what I felt for you became real and I saw you as attainable.

And then….imagine my surprise when you were the one who ran. You ran from me. And all the running from emotions and feelings and humanity that I thought I had become so skilled at? Oh, you put me to shame. You are the master. You officially outran the runner.

You left me behind to choke on the dust. And I deserve it. 

"Simple Gestures"

A hand
reaching for another and holding it tight--
such a simple gesture,

and yet...

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't break free from the chains
my past placed around my hands,
my lips,
my heart.

I wanted to grasp your hand in mine,
to entwine our fingers
and feel your warmth coursing through me,
melting the icy prison I can't escape.

I wanted to say the words,
to whisper them against your lips
and release the agony of emotions never told
with each and every kiss.

I wanted to shine the light of your smile
into the darkest corners of my barely beating heart,
and yet....
and yet....

And yet.

I have a confession.

I'm weak. I'm weary. I'm broken.

I am human.

I have to repeat this to myself almost daily. I have to constantly remind myself that I don't love you anymore, lest I forget and fall victim to that old habit. You see, I'm in the process of convincing myself that in reality, I never did love you. That seems easier in the end than dealing with the alternative--that I loved you fully and helplessly. I put pictures of you out of sight, hoping to forget. I busy myself with my new life here, working a lot, spending time with friends, and just trying my best not to leave room for missing you...for loving you.

And yet, I am human. A while back, after stumbling across a photograph, I did something I promised myself I wouldn't do: I wrote you a letter. I knew what would happen. I knew you wouldn't respond. I was right. Even as I apologized for whatever imaginary thing I did or didn't do to make you hurt me, I knew I wouldn't get a response. But my weakness pushed me forward nonetheless. I don't know if you ever even read my letter. I don't know if you even have that address anymore, but either way, it was my attempt at a proper goodbye, one I was robbed of that night you turned away from me without a word.

Perhaps it was a mistake to write that letter. Perhaps I only caused myself more pain by doing so, since each time, I open my mail and see no letter from you, the shattered remnants of my time with you slice away at my already fractured heart.

Yes, perhaps it was a mistake.

But despite that, despite all that happened, despite how horrible it would have been for my soul to stay with you--to be with you....I don't regret it. I don't regret meeting you, becoming your friend. But falling for you? Therein lies my mistake....my most perfect mistake.

I am praying that writing that letter will free me from you eventually, that your lack of response will allow me to escape the ghost of you that has been haunting me since the day I left.

Yes, I am weak. I am weary. I am broken.

But I am human. And that means I can be put back together again. Someday.

Home

Since moving back to the US from Japan, I've often found myself asking a question that I'm sure almost everyone asks at one point or another. 

Where is home?

Is it here in the Ozarks, where I live now? Is it in the gently rolling hills I see as I turn down the road toward my childhood home? Is it the forest behind my grandmother's house, where my childhood friend and I used to play make-believe? Is my home the steps leading down to that old brick building where I used to learn? Or is it the streaming blue lights hanging from the trees during a Harding University Christmas? Perhaps it's the mountains of Shikoku? The rice fields and mikan trees and karaoke places? Or maybe, just maybe, my home is beneath a starry sky, where I can see the moon and sigh in contentment, knowing that somewhere, someone from one of those places might be looking at that same beautiful night sky. (Side note: The video below? Well...I just can't help myself...)


 

Really, in the end, my home is all those places. Those are the places where my feet have trod. Those are the places that have left footprints in my heart, prints that can't be washed away by the ocean of time. Those places changed me, healed me, broke me, made me. My home is my family, my friends, my memories. I carry the people I met, the people I loved, and the places that colored my soul. I carry them with me now and forever. I carry my home in my heart, so that it is everywhere I go. And every time I open myself to new experiences and relationships, my home grows a little more beautiful. So, do I really know where I want to be? Where I want to end up? The honest answer is no, but it'll be okay, because wherever the future takes me, I'll always have a home. I'll always have my first home, my foundation....and all those other, wonderful homes I've made along the way. Home is something I will never lose, and I will continue to carry it with me in my heart until I am able to reach my forever home in eternity. 

The moment I realized I would give up everything for you…that’s the moment that I finally understood. Your soul and my soul? They were meant for each other. That moment was also the moment I realized I had to do the one thing that my entire existence screamed for me NOT to do. I had to let you go. 

I didn’t just let you go when I left. Physically, I suppose I let you go long before that. Because I was afraid. I was afraid of you, and I was afraid of me. ‘Cause, truthfully, when I say that I’d give up everything for you, that includes the one thing that is supposed to be the most important to me: my relationship with God. That was something that you and I couldn’t agree on. And that’s the one thing that I really needed you to agree with me on. That’s the one thing that, I finally decided, I couldn’t give up for you. I couldn’t give up my relationship with Jesus for a relationship with you. This decision, I’m ashamed to admit, took me several years to make. I loved you. I loved you more than I have ever loved another man in my life, but in the end, I had to make the decision to love Jesus more. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I had to put God before you. You see, I could put you above myself. For my whole life I could do it, but whenever I found myself thinking of you before I thought of God, I knew I had to leave you. I had to leave you before it was too late, before I left God instead.

Even though I left, and we will never be together again, I do know this: you were made for me. In my whole life, I never felt more comfortable with a man than I did with you. I could never completely be myself. I never found myself wanting to openly give my feelings, to openly give of myself, to someone. I never wanted to cook someone dinner, and I never thought it would matter what they thought of that dinner. I never wanted to spend every day with someone…until you.

Until I met you, I was afraid to show the silly, goofy side of me. I was afraid to open up. It didn’t take long, though, for that fear to vanish after meeting you. And I really felt in my heart that I could tell you anything…and it would be okay. Well…I could tell you anything and everything, except one secret that I had to keep: the secret of my feelings for you. And you…you said the same to me on numerous occasions as well, that I was your best friend, that you could talk to me about anything at all. I do believe that you cared about me in some fashion or another. I never really verified what your feelings really were. I tried a couple of times, to tell you the truth, to find out how you felt, but every time I thought I’d worked up the nerve to do so, something happened to keep me from doing it.  I suppose it’s a good thing, huh? ‘Cause those were all those times before I realized what a danger you were to my spiritual health.

You…beautiful, passionate you. Even as you fed my soul, I was starving for Christ. I was taking you in, when I should have been accepting him instead. You, the nonbeliever…you believed in me. You cared about me, but above everything and everyone else you cared about yourself. I could never ever compete with how deeply you loved yourself. And God? God wasn’t able to compete with how deeply you loved yourself either. I know that, had I held onto you, had we become even closer, you would’ve used me and hurt me….over and over again you would’ve hurt me. And over and over again I would’ve returned to you. I would’ve returned to you with a smile on my face as you continued to feed my spirit the junk food created by your doubt and narcissism.

Years from now, the fact that you were made for me will not have changed. A part of my secret heart will still love you. A part of my soul will still crave what you were able to feed it. Every day, I think of you. I actively pull your face and the sound of your voice to the forefront of my mind, if only for a second, so that I won’t forget your smile or the way you laughed. The chance of ever seeing you again…it’s not there. I left you knowing that I was leaving you on the other side of the world. I was leaving behind any chance there might have been of being with the person whose soul so painfully, perfectly matched my own.

But someday…someday, even though, I will always cherish and love you, I will put that love on a shelf. The fact that I loved you, doesn’t mean that I can’t love again. I believe that God will help me with this, and with time, I’ll find another person whose soul matches mine. And this person? This person will help me fill my soul with goodness and faith, love and Jesus.

I will be okay with this.

I have to be okay with this. 

Alright, first blog post.

I believe the first order of business is to just come out and be honest about the fact that I am, historically, a terribly inconsistent blogger. Let's try to change that. :-) 

A little about me: I'm in my late 20s, from the U.S. 

Last July, I moved back to the United States after spending four years living and working in Japan (there will be some stories about this later). Needless to say, the past nine months have been a roller coaster of emotions: reverse culture shock, happiness, stress, anger, grief, loneliness, excitement....It's like this ride just doesn't stop; it just goes from one emotion to the next on this endless loop. "I'm so happy to be here!" "I want to go back to Japan!" "Thank God I'm close to my family!" "I miss Japan so much it's hard to breathe!" 

That pretty much sums up my mind right now....as if I weren't crazy enough before the reverse culture shock. 

Anyway, I'm gonna give this blog a try. 

My first entry is fairly personal. It's an open letter to someone I love. Someone I left behind.