Originally published at SheLoves Magazine.
There are a million insecurities in my world that make me wonder if I’m ever going to be good enough. Is my photography good enough? My writing? My music? My art? Have I said the right things at the right times?
But for all my insecurities that make me feel like I’m not enough, being single isn’t one of them.
Confession: Like most single women I have thought (maybe even agonized) about what exactly went wrong with me that kept me single. Then I sort of stopped thinking that. Not sure how it happened. Not sure I need to know.
This is what I know: I’m relatively smart. I’m wicked funny. I’m enough.
That’s it. I’m enough.
There’s no great mystery for me to solve here. There is nothing wrong with me. Nothing that needs to be fixed.
Sure, I’m loud and I shave my head and I flit around the world like a balloon that refuses to be tied. But you know what? There’s really nothing wrong with that. It’s just me. And that’s okay.
I talk about singleness all the time. I think it’s because I want it to be okay to be single. I want to walk into church without a hundred (okay, more like six) people asking me if I met any dashing young men on my recent adventures.
The answer to that question is always, “Of course I did. But meeting them and falling in love with them are two entirely different things.”
Or even better, the conversations that include these gems:
“Wow, your hair is getting long. You’re sure to attract a guy with your nice hair.”
“Just keep being you, but dress cuter.”
“Sarah, we just want you to be happy.” (If you’re friends with me on Facebook or you’ve read either of my blogs, I’m not sure how you could think I’m unhappy.)
Not one of these things should be said to a single person EVER. And I have been hearing them for years.
You see, I’m 27 years old and I realized the other day I have never been on a second date. I’ve been on a few first dates, but no one ever called for a second date. And maybe that should make me feel bad, but mostly it makes me laugh as I consider all the self-deprecating things I can insert into my stand-up routine or my memoir or even song lyrics.
It occurred to me that I wasn’t worried about my relationship status while traveling by train through the lovely parts of Switzerland (well, all parts of Switzerland are lovely). I listened to my friend dream aloud about her future. As she dreamed, I noticed a theme. So many dreams started with, “When I’m married …” or “When I’m married and have children …” or “When I’m married and have my own house …”
Somehow, without trying, I bumped marriage out of my dreaming. It’s not that I wouldn’t love it someday—I’m under the assumption it is likely to occur, but not imperative to my mission, my faith, my well-being or my standing in the world. And I have absolutely no say in the matter right now anyway.
All my dreams start like this: “When I finish my memoir”… “When I write my memoir” … “When I travel to Kenya” … “When SheLoves is my full-time job” … “When I visit that well in Bubanza” … “When I go to grad school … ”
Maybe someday I’ll get married. Maybe I won’t. But I’m not going to waste today’s adventures on tomorrow’s “maybe.” I have enough on my plate.
Right now, I am enough.