If you read last month’s column, you’ll recall that I was going through a bit of a “funk” (to put it lightly) and had found myself in a repetitive cycle of self sabotage in the dating game yet again. This month, I am turning 33, and I am beginning to feel lightyears behind my cohorts. Most of my friends from high school or college have far surpassed me in terms of milestones. Whether they’re wrapped up in marriages, multiple children, multiple homes or cars, I can guarantee none of them have time to sit around and cry over a man who chooses partying over his partner and lies as easily as he breathes.
I’ll admit, I feel silly talking to anyone about my dating struggles at this point. Not only are my friends and family sick of my dating-induced depressive episodes, but they’re also too busy solving some of life’s most important problems (like parenting, excelling in careers or tending to sick family members) to even relate to my seemingly immature and cyclical dilemmas. Calling my busy best friend Matt to ruminate about why someone did or didn’t call me back for the 300th time feels a bit inconsiderate when he has two children, a wife and a job to maintain. Needless to say, I’m beginning to feel the pressure to catch up with everyone else, which leads to many nights of frustration, anxiety and tears because I’m just not there yet and I don’t know how to get there or why things aren’t happening for me like they seem to be happening for others. Adulthood can be lonely as a single, introverted person, and it only seems to get lonelier with each year that passes and you and your friends drift in different directions. When speaking with your therapist for an hour is the highlight of your week, and when you begin singing Broadway musical songs to your cat in the evenings, it might be time to make changes.
To avoid sounding ungrateful, I know I am fortunate to have even a small apartment to live in, a wonderful cat to keep me company and my health. Others have much less and are grappling with far worse problems. However, I am not where I envisioned myself being at 33 and feel like I want more out of life but don’t know where to start. On some days, I’ll get a rush of motivation and become inspired to take the next steps in my career and social life, but those moments are few and far between in comparison to the restlessness and anxiety that plagues me the majority of the time. I hate to say it, but it’s much easier to hide in my room and daydream than it is to seize the day.
Thankfully, when I’m wrapped up in my thoughts and mental prison (as I currently am while writing this article), I have brief moments of remembering that God’s timing has a lot to do with why I am “stuck,” and that not everything is in my control; however, I also recognize that I have to be willing to “do the work” and put myself out there as much as possible.
It’s also important for me to remember that comparison can sometimes be the bane of my existence and seeing what others post on social media exacerbates my tendency to self criticize. What’s good for the goose isn’t always good for the gander, and I try to keep that in mind when I begin beating myself up about not being ready for children, having nothing close to a husband and being in no rush for a mortgage anytime soon. I’ll eventually pull myself out of this funk (as I always eventually do) and once that happens, maybe I’ll plant myself in the hardware section of Home Depot and find an honest man with the right priorities. That’s a start, right?
