I’m So Afraid Of Spending My Life Alone

I would be remiss if I ignored the aching beneath the surface of my skin, the hurt that I have been home to for so long. It startles me with its constant need for recognition; I can’t escape it because the emptiness has made a home inside me. It is nice and comfortable right there in my chest, showing no signs of making an elaborate exit. I wonder if this gaping wound affords people the opportunity to see right through me; is my grief transparent, is my pain palpable? Am I trying too hard to put forth a veil of perfection?

I have always been a romantic, almost to a fault. It’s become an integral piece of who I am; the soft edges and velvety smooth corners of my heart bleed into every area of my life. I am in a continuous state of growth, and I have devoted most of my twenties to working through all of the complicated emotions and multilayered mess that comes from generational trauma, DNA, environmental factors, and maybe a little bit of fate.

Amidst all of the inner work I’ve been doing, I seem to arrive face-to-face with one of my greatest fears constantly. It mocks me, it pushes every emotional button I have, and it shakes me to my core. It’s not easy to face our fears head-on; in fact, it’s fucking terrifying to be so vulnerable. I’m baring my soul in the hopes that there will be just one person out there that relates to me. I have always dreamed of making this world a little softer, a gentle place for you to land when life hits you hard and threatens your peace. If I can make someone feel less alone and validate their emotions and feelings along the way, then I’m doing my due diligence.

One of my greatest fears is spending my life alone. I don’t mean living by myself in a little cabin in the country with no wifi and 20 dogs. I mean, I’m terrified that I will never find my soulmate, my partner to build a life and a family with. I have dreamed of getting married and starting a family for my entire life, so every time I enter another year of life as a single woman, my fears of ending up alone metastasize. I am so self-conscious about my relationship status and the fact that I am not a mother yet. I get so triggered seeing all of the perfectly curated families on Instagram that I have to maintain strict boundaries with myself and take time off social media.

In the last year, I have grown exponentially. This is the kind of growth that cannot be seen from the outside; it’s an inside job. Sometimes I think it would be nice if we could all walk around wearing our healed trauma, emotional breakthroughs, and adversity that we’ve overcome as badges on our chest. Wouldn’t it be an incredible sight to physically see everything that we’re healing from while also acknowledging that to be human is to be a constant work-in-progress? Society is much more accepting of a broken leg or a hand in a cast. But when it comes to matters of a bruised and tender heart, it isn’t viewed the same. The good news about this is that the people who are meant to be in your life will see these invisible scars you carry and love you even more. You won’t have to hide the marks and bruises you are home to because they will see you and validate the path you’ve travelled that has led you to where you are.

The road that has led me to this very moment has not been an easy one. I am not magically healed from all of the emotional abuse and trauma that I hold inside of me. Do I constantly worry that I won’t find the man I’ve literally dreamed about since I was a teenager and end up alone? Yes, I do. Do I wake up each day and do the messy, gritty work of healing my heart and regaining my self-esteem? Absolutely. I am a work-in-progress, and I think that’s kind of beautiful. I just hope that I can share this me with my soul mate — wherever he is in this wild and messy world.