Eh.

I'm feeling a bit blah tonight. Sad, though I know it's silly. I look around and see devastating pain. People - even in my own life - have died. There are those suffering though illnesses that require strength I can't even imagine. Some lack the resources to provide for their families. And yet I, comfortably cuddled on my loveseat in the house I bought, suffer only from loss of hope. I think that's what bothers me at the moment. I don't think I believe I'm going to find anyone to love. It just doesn't make sense that it would happen. And while it's very much not OK, I'm tired of battling disappointment. At some point, isn't it better to just accept what is rather than throwing energy after a futile pursuit? I am, of course, aware that it's a phase. I'm tired and sad and I don't want to think about doing this again. I'll bounce back.

I'm refusing to wallow for too long though - I've spent so much of the past few months being depressed. Wasting time. I've enjoyed the cheer of the past few days - implementing The Plan has been quite helpful. I'm meeting my Unnamed Friend tomorrow for football (not sure if she was guilted into it by my enthusiasm or the irresistible need to support The Plan) and am looking forward to the day. I mowed my lawn tonight - that always makes me happy. The weather is cooler. I received congratulatory emails from my boss and another mentor after receiving some funding earlier this week. That was nice. It's going well.

Here's the thing. Remember Violet? I adore the woman - think she's fantastic. She's also adopting a little boy - he should be arriving soon. I was telling Carrie about it and she noted that she'd very much like to consider adopting at some point. I agreed - I'm crazy about toddlers (they can talk and are less fragile), but am awkward and weird around babies (What if I hurt them? And they do smell funny. I feel terribly guilty for moving away rather than toward the tiny creatures, but honestly. I get very nervous.) - so adoption would be a consideration for me.

"It's great that she's doing it on her own." Carrie commented. And tired from a day at Disney World, I just stared out the window for a moment before responding.

"It was time." I said simply, thinking sadly to a day I might say the same for myself. Carrie must have been sleepy herself because she didn't reply.

So I continued.

"It's not guaranteed that you find someone. Life isn't always fair. With jobs or love or children. You can work all you want - deserve something more than anyone you know - and still not get to your goal. There are amazing women who end up alone. I've met some. It's chilling, honestly, because if they can't figure this out, there's no way in hell I'm going to.

"So," I concluded, "it seems the smart thing to do is exactly what Violet did. You wait for as long as you can justify - try to date, give over to someone who ends up not wanting you, try to settle for someone who just isn't right - then you decide it's time. You're getting older. Love - in the romantic, wonderful, keep-him-forever sense - isn't going to happen for you. And you want a child - I understand that desire very well (even with my "I'd rather not hold that baby. Thanks." attitude) - so you call those romantic hopes off and move on."

"She's not moving on!" Carrie protested. "She can still find someone to love! She's just not waiting for him to start her family."

"No." I said, laughing a little and shaking my head at her because I don't see it that way. "She's done. It's not going to happen. She found the baby alone. She'll name him and take care of him and raise him. Alone. She's not looking anymore. Game over. It would have been nice, but it's not realistic anymore for her. She's moving on."

"She could still find someone!" Carrie insisted, and I looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"How the hell do you figure?" I demanded, starting to get irritated. "She's not willing to settle - she wants someone amazing, and if he doesn't come along, she's fine on her own. So why - after she's gotten older, settled into a single lifestyle, adopted a baby - do you think a man is going to come along when she's not even open to meeting him and sweep her off her feet? It doesn't make sense. She's done with that phase and is going to the next one. I think that's logical and smart. It's exactly what I plan to do."

"Just give up?" She asked, irritated herself. This is the point where we start to act like spoiled terriers and snap at each other.

"Yes. There's only so much of life that I can mourn for something that isn't going to happen. Only so many years I can justify spending searching for a man I can love who will love me back. Then I'll make a decision - close that part of my heart off, let it heal, then turn my attention to the other parts of my heart that are ready to love. Figure out how I want to have a child. And I won't look anymore because I'll have moved on."

"I think that's sad." She said.

"Of course it is." I sighed. Then I nodded and blinked back tears because it is sad. To look at what I wanted - what I still hope for - and acknowledge that if it doesn't happen for some women, I could easily be one of them. It's quite painful. And unless you're willing to date and marry me, there's limited comfort you can offer. Because you don't know that I won't be like Violet. Pretty, smart, successful. Warm, funny, sweet. And alone.

The comfort in this situation does not lie in platitudes - nobody can be sure I'll find someone, though it's certainly sweet if you're thinking I likely will. That someone should love me because I have good qualities. Because I want to find him so very much. It's not always fair, and there are certainly no guarantees. And there are worse things than staying single - I absolutely understand that.

The comfort is that you can still be successful - find people who love you as friends and family. Be content with being able to roll around freely as you sleep when you'd rather be bumping into someone and tugging to get enough blanket. Deal with the stress and joy of adopting all by yourself - basking in that excitement and happiness. Buying a house and feeling pleased every time I mow the lawn because this is mine. But I remember moving in - hoping I'd repeat the process with a partner sometime in the future. Have someone to make faces at when Dad needed to make one more trip to Lowes. Share the work and exhaustion rather than facing what sometimes seems like overwhelming responsibility on my own.

At some point though, it seems to me that I can decide to enjoy what I have - and I have a considerable amount for which to be supremely grateful - or I can continue to mourn what I might not ever receive. For now? I miss the hope - the giddy thought that if he likes me then maybe it will work! And if not, if I somehow captured the attention of someone so wonderful, then I should be able to find someone equally amazing later on!

I commented - I think for Dryden (yep, on this post) "My overall thought is that - in your position - I'd try to buy into the belief that things work out in the end. It may not be true, but at least there's some comfort in the present moment." And I do believe that's the way to go - assume that life is going to go your way, and live with that comfort and happiness.

But at some moments, when it becomes obvious that - while things are going to be OK and will work out in the end - you're not going to get what you wanted in the way you wanted, isn't it best to prepare yourself? For me to know I'll do pretty well on my own? To look ahead, think that I have a lot of time before I need to move on myself, but start resolving myself to the fact that it very well might come down to that?

"I don't like that you see it that way." Carrie said, setting her mouth in displeasure.

"I don't know that I do either." I said with a shrug, looking out the window and watching the world go by. "But I think that's just how it is."

And with a heavy sigh, I'll leave it at that.