From Single, to Open

I've been single for a while now; probably the longest in my adult life. Being someone who doesn't "do" lonely, dating for the sake of dating has never really made sense to me. I hold on to the old fashioned notion that you will be drawn towards the people you're meant to be drawn towards. Connecting to just one person can open up a hundred other paths; love will come when its ready, and leave if it has to. 

I never really expected to be single again, not to mention childless, at 40 - at the same time, it hadn't even occurred to me to think about not being single again, until recently. And, although I have no intention of starting to date, and I'm not "desperately seeking" someone, I think I'm finally at the point where, if the love of my life happened to appear, I'd be ready to let them in. I'm happy with who I am, and what I am, and what I have to offer as a partner in crime. Basically: I'm just happy. Like... a room; one that is absent of a roof.

It's taken me a long time to get there, but I'm back to being the baggage-free version of me. There's no-one I'm going to love more than the next person I fall in love with, there's no skeleton I'm not willing to drag out of the closet, no psychological breakdown on the horizon. (Oh wait, yeah, menopause - that can't be too many years away - but I'm sure whoever wins this particular lottery will love me regardless of whether I'm threatening them with a knife or not).

I think part of my 'problem' (if you can call it that) is that I have absolute no issue with be single. There's nothing I can't do on my own. (Except that lone person on a see-saw thing that they do to illustrate 'being alone' in the cartoons). Digging deeper, it's almost like, subconsciously, I've planned to stay single: I've worked hard, and I know I have enough money to last me (on my own) for the rest of my life (assuming I die at 78 years and 3 months, which, let's face it, is a little on the optimistic side). I've surrounded myself with married and gay guys. My regular hangouts are all 'coupley' places where I won't get hit on. What could I possibly gain by entering into a relationship? What would I stand to lose?

Of course, there is the whole physical needs thing. I ain't the hottest catch on the planet, by any stretch of the imagination, but I could take myself out to any bar and get laid if it became that much of an issue. The internet even saves me that trouble: I could post a Craigslist Ad and get 100 responses. (I conducted this experiment in Philadelphia, in 2007. 40 guys turned up to a bar without any clue who they were supposed to meet. They were supposed to meet me, but, oops, I was watching them from the upstairs bar of the hotel. My bad.). I know there are guys (and a few girls) who would happily step up to the plate if required, but I've never been able to separate sex from - not love - just, intense feelings. As much as I like those folk, I couldn't go there. My self-esteem and self-respect have remained undamaged so far, and I intend to keep it that way. Celibacy builds spirituality... I'll keep telling myself that, anyway!

Looks like the only thing that's gonna sway me away from this path is actual, real to life, good as gold love. I may be capable of feeling it again, but what are the chances I'll find it? Particularly if I'm not actually looking for it... although, isn't that always when it creeps up on you?

I don't believe in magic per se, but I do believe in focus and intention, and a whole bunch of other spiritual things that I'm not going to bore you with right now. I believe based on my own experience. I don't expect anyone else to buy into that.

I'm meditating over this tonight... changing my internal status from 'single' to 'open'. Let's see what falls my way.

40 & Onwards

I started a blog on Blogger on my 30th birthday.  It was called '30 & Onwards', the URL was 'thedrunkenboat', and it had a black background.

I only ever seemed to blog about things that were going wrong.
I only ever seemed to blog when I was depressed.

As I was depressed for most of my 30s (maybe not in the clinical sense, for most of it, but I was certainly in a funk) - the entire thing read like some kind of veiled death threat to the world. I only posted 96 times in ten years, which isn't a great amount, but it was all very dark.

I deleted those 96 posts today. And as I deleted them,  it felt like I was finally letting go of the past. Things happen. Friends die. Fetuses die. Family die. Relationships break up for all kinds of reasons. People fuck you over for no reason whatsoever: it happens. When it all happens within a month (like it did last year), it's going to take its toll on you, and maybe I turned into someone I didn't like for a while there. I realise now, I had to be that person, to fight for my survival. I consider myself incredibly lucky to be where I am today.

I'm not quite at the point where I'm waking up full of forgiveness and positivity, but I'm getting there. There's a lot of small changes I need to make to my life, and in the spirit of being proactive, I've carved out a rough 12 month plan,

A lot of it depends on my mother's health of course. I am Literally The Only Family Member Alive apart from her; she needs to be cared for, and there's no one else who can do it. I can go away for a week at a time, provided there's a carer coming in, but she gets bored and lonely, and she deserves more than that.

I've always been the opposite. I rarely feel bored, and I don't even know what lonely feels like. I could keep myself busy for the rest of my life, if that's the way the cards fall. I have good friends in every corner of the globe, and I am truly thankful for that. At the same time, I feel as if 'new tech' (i.e. Facebook) has stopped me outgrowing certain friendships, or, at the very least: it's made me complacent about starting new friendships. 

My mission for this month is to change that. I deactivated Facebook for six months last year to kick off the whole healing process, and although it helped, I missed out on a few things by virtue of the fact there were very few people who knew how to reach me. My entire 40th birthday party has been planned through Facebook: it's become an integral part of our lives. So, this time, I'm not going to deactivate - I'm just going to stop using it.  

I'll probably start up again on Twitter: it's a much more social option. I'm going to reach out to people more, and welcome them in more. If I can manage it online, maybe I can extend that out here into 'the Real World'. (Remind me to tell you about David Puck Rainey one day).

I'm calling this blog 'The Sober Boat'. Not as if I have any plans on changing my drinking habits -it's so rare that I drink nowadays anyway - but because I want my 40s to be in direct contrast to my 30s.  The Drunken Boat was a poem by Rimbaud; quite fittingly, it's the tale of a boat getting lost and sea and sinking.  

I'm 40 now.

I can swim.
I can swim
I can swim.

Happy birthday to me.
I can do this thing.