The Novelty Has Worn Off – December 12, 2013

fireplaceI’m tired of writing about being single. When I first started blogging, I was full of ideas of posts on the single life – both silly and serious. Now, the novelty has worn off. The thought of writing about singleness or dating feels more like a chore.

I feel stuck when it comes to dating. I haven’t seen any movement and I find myself drifting into apathy. If I’m honest, I feel as though I’m in the same exact place I was this time last year. And this time the year before. And the year before that. You get the idea.

I hide in apathy to avoid the rejection I feel. The apathy feeling much easier to bear with than the disappointment. When I’m playing out the same narratives again and again (or at least, what appears to be the same narrative), it can feel as though apathy is the only option. My mind tells me this is not true, but my heart has another view and has no problem making that known.

I get why the holidays are so difficult for singles. There are so many expectations and visions. Not of sugar plums, but of Christmas light viewings hand in hand, cozy nights with hot chocolate next to the fire, and Christmas movies snuggled next to the one you love. Forget falling in love in Spring, Christmas was made for lovers.

As I sit with both of these truths, it feels as though they make up some sort of odd equation which I am trying to solve. 

Tendency towards apathy (when faced with disappointment) x Christmas hopes = ?

I was never great at math and when I look at this equation I’d prefer to just sit with one or the other, not both pieces of the problem.

Here’s the truth. I fear that I will always be single. It can terrify me at times. I fear sitting with that fear, so I avoid by leaning into apathy. I also am secretly sentimental. As evidenced above, I have visions of romantic (and somewhat unrealistic) moments. I feel like Beatrice and Bennedick in Shakespeare’s “Much Ado About Nothing,” loudly proclaiming their skepticism and disinterest when it comes to marriage and then diving into love the moment the option of romance is placed in their path.  I avoid what I feel, because there are times when it’s just so hard for me to believe that God knows what he is doing. 

As I look again at the equation, I see what the missing piece is: trust.  Trust is the place where I acknowledge and present my hopes and then place them into God’s loving hands.  Trusting that his goodness is not solely expressed or defined by my getting married.  Trusting that he hears my cries and is with me in the sorrow and disappointments.  Trusting that he is indeed trustworthy.

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