adventures of a single girl

Welcome 2019!

I brought this New Year in all by myself. Just me and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in front of the CBC live stream from Charlottetown. It was the type of New Year’s Eve that was a decade in the making. On my terms, in my space, focused only on myself.

I intended to bring in 2009 just like that, and I was in such a better place emotionally then to do it. I remember I was so excited to finally be okay with myself on my own, to finally be embracing my life as it was, not as I had always hoped it would be. I was excited about entering into the New Year and being open to all the opportunities that would surely come my way.

But back then I still had people who would call and ask me to go places with them, and when they did I put up a little protest but in the end my FOMO got the best of me and I went. It was fine in the beginning, drinks, laughter, but as the evening progressed my singleness began to weigh heavier on my soul. One sad lonely girl amongst a crowd of couples, celebrating the new year, their drunkenness, and even their love for one another. I wasn’t as emotionally capable as I thought and I left early, walked home in a blizzard, drunk dialling friends so I wouldn’t be afraid to be out in the dark on my own.

That night was the catalyst to another deep depression, which lasted several weeks before I finally said to hell with feeling sorry for myself and started digging my way back up to the light. I swore off men, relationships, dating sites and switched my focus to work and personal development. I felt excited again and eagerly jumped onto my computer to start deleting profiles. And literally within five minutes of beginning this exercise my soon to be husband had messaged me to introduce himself. Abraham teaches that when you drop your resistance everything you want is there waiting for you. I dropped all resistance for a few minutes and BAM! He was there. It’s one of those stories people don’t believe is true, but it happened.

I absolutely believe we would have eventually met some other way, if not then, because we were supposed to meet. But no matter, we met then and it kicked off a decade of … well, New Year’s Eves spent in the company of other people, for one thing, and a lot of turmoil and suffering, for another. Perhaps I lowered my resistance just enough to meet and marry, but raised it up again when it came to the keeping. Physically, we only lasted two years together, the same with the paper of our marriage, though emotionally we may always be entangled to some extent. Mistakes were made. Regrets occurred. We both moved forward with different partners. Me with just one, him collecting them like trophies.

I spent six years with my one, which is practically the longest relationship I’ve ever had consecutively. I was invested, hopeful, happy and relaxed by times. There were laughs. It was really good a lot of the time and I was willing to work on it the rest of the time, perhaps even too willing and the horse died years ago even while I continued to beat it into the ground. No matter, it ended for real this past fall, even though I still held out some hope for reconciliation. But he’s told me he doesn’t love me, so that’s that book closed and put away, finished.

So I entered into this New Year as I had intended to do a decade ago. On my own, feeling as strong as I can given the circumstances of my life, trying to embrace my oneness and not feel utterly alone and lonely. It was easier last night with Joel Plaskett and the CBC and a full glass of cabernet. It is more difficult today in the silence and snowstorm.

Every year I set my intentions and goals and revisit last year’s to see how far I’ve come or not, but looking back to last year makes me sad. I did none of those things and some of them weren’t even about me, most of them if I’m honest, they were about other people, pleasing other people. How did that happen and I didn’t even notice? Or maybe I did notice because I spent the majority of 2018 in a deep dark depression that weighed on me so much I had to go to physical therapy. That brought me so down I had to speak with a counsellor. That made me so sick I required much emergency theta healing.

I want to set goals for this year, to plot my course for the future, but today is not the day for that type of exercise. Maybe by the weekend, 2019 won’t feel so new and daunting. The only thing I can resolve to now is that 2019 is going to be the year of dancing for me. I will put on my headphones and my favourite playlists and I will dance in my living room, down the hallway, into the bedrooms and kitchen, through the dining room, in front of the window overlooking the river. I will dance with abandon and release. And then when I’m done dancing at home I will go to concerts and dance (or at least sway a little and chair dance) to live music that fills my spirit. I will dance every day in some way, and I know I will be better for having done it.

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2 replies »

  1. Hey, Kellie, I wrote you a response, but the screen froze and you are, to my knowledge, unable to receive it. I basically said–always more challenging to re-create shit–that 2019 will be a tough year, globally, and maybe you and I can band together as creatives and shore each other up, from time to time. I ended by expressing admiration for your writing. Cheers, Chuck chuckbowie33@gmail.com

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