My mother came to visit at the weekend. Whilst I love spending time with her and hearing about the rest of the family, it always (unintentionally) serves to remind me about things I'd prefer not to dwell on. My parents are both fairly elderly, and I know I can't expect them to be around forever. It's even possible that I, being without other ties, might find myself in a position where I have to look after and take responsibility for them.
It reminds me of something I am afraid of. In a few years I'm likely to have to face being alone in the world, without people who I can call on for back up if everything goes wrong. The rest of my family are scattered around the country, but none live near me, and they all have their own families (spouses, children) and own priorities, so I'm not that close to any of them.
I have friends whom I love and trust, but I know only too well that once people are separated by distance or gain other priorities like careers or partners, it's easy to drift apart. Communication, even in the current digital age, has to be a two-way thing, and I know some of my closest friends struggle with that even when they're only away for a few weeks. I've often struggle with making friends, and I've had so many 'friends' who it's turned out don't really care, or who haven't kept in contact once they moved away. I am so grateful for those who do listen and are there when I need someone. And who I can be there for- the reciprocal side of friendship.
There's a general apprehension of the impermanence of my current situation. My current job, while (hopefully) stable is not something I want to do for any longer than I have to (mainly for financial reasons). I need to find somewhere to live (and people to live with) from the summer, and that's made more complicated by the fact that I don't earn much and that many of my friends (and potential housemates) are uncertain of their own futures.
I wouldn't describe my attitude towards the future as fear, or even as worry (most of the time!) although there are some pretty daunting challenges to face up to. I know that I can rely on God, I trust that whatever happens is part of his plan- even though I don't understand how- and that even if it seems rubbish good will come of it. I wouldn't want to be without that certainty. And part of me says that God is always with me, whatever happens, so I don't need to worry about being alone. But while I know that's true, it doesn't stop me wishing. God created us for relationships- with friends, most of all with him- and he frequently used friends to do his work in comforting and helping us.
It's a selfish want, of course, but I do wish, sometimes, that I could have the security of knowing that there will always be someone- a friend, a partner; whatever, just someone- who I can go to when I'm in trouble, who I can rely on to be there when I need them. Because yes, I'm afraid that in a few years' time there will be no one left who can say they love me.
Lois, I love your blog. You have a very direct and honest way of writing without being confrontational. You write about your feelings in a calm and considered way... sort of emotional without getting all emotional :)
ReplyDeleteAnd aaargh this post seems eerily familiar in some ways.
It's difficult being single. Culture is built around families - this might even be some weird evolutionary thing, that looking after families is seen as most important because it means people are encouraged to have children. Who knows? And one gets the feeling after a while that being single makes you an anomaly, even though in many ways we can also do the things that parents of young children long to do but can't, like go out whenever we want, spend all our money on ourselves, and so on.
I guess there is also the thing that single people don't identify as a group as families do. Parents always have things to talk about with each other - what the little ones are doing at school, healthcare, education, "Oh I'm breastfeeding, what about you?"
And perhaps more crucially most people have come from a nuclear family of some kind. Single people are people who might get married and might have children, people who might get married but won't have children, people who might have children but won't get married, and people who won't get married. They don't necessarily share interests, and the government probably can't get them quite as impassioned over things like education and health care and so on.
I actually find it quite exciting to know that at the moment, the only one deciding my destiny is me. Scary, perhaps, but exciting. And yet it's hard doing things on your own. I really identify with what you say about making friends... I seem to have missed some vital social skills lesson. It even occurred to me just today the way I failed to make any friends in my class when I first started at school, and I didn't even get the impression that my classmates particularly disliked me. They thought I was odd and I apparently had a pathological aversion to homework. But by all accounts, most of them probably thought I was OK. By the time I left school, only one of them was really my friend and she was about as awkward as I was. Argh!
I'm sorry, I don't know if this comment makes any overall sense. But your post so resonated with lots of things I've been thinking lately.
Finally, to your last paragraph, it's not selfish at all to want someone to be there - it's bloody scary being on your own at times. Where it becomes selfish is when we get together with someone we don't really love, or don't love enough, so that we're not alone.
Anyway, I guess this is just a lengthy "Me too!" response to your post and would just like to say we should stick together and check up on each other time after time, even if I do live in gloomy old Bradford :)
Hugs, I hope we meet up again soon, anyway!
Thanks for the compliment Helen! As for "sort of emotional without getting all emotional" you should have seen the first draft...
ReplyDeleteHopefully see you soon!