“All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me”
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about being an independent woman. A Lot!! When I think about why, it’s clearly due to the state of chaos my personal environment has been in for the last ten days. Earlier this week, I found myself in tears–mega tears y’all, because I was completely worn out from the stress that goes along with undergoing a major construction project in one’s home. And it got me thinking. Why was I crying? Other than feeling uneasy about having my home–usually my sanctuary away from the chaos of life–be the source of chaos in my life, nothing else was really much different than usual. And then I was able to place the source of the emotions, I was really tired of dealing with this level of stress alone.
Alone. That word can hold a whole lot of “stuff.” Don’t confuse this with being lonely my friends. That’s a whole different state and not one I often find myself visiting. But I am frequently alone, absolutely in my day to day living and choice/decision making. While labels can get sticky, my preference is to label this choice, and yes it has been a choice (mostly) as being an independent woman. I’ve been on my own for the most part since I was 18. I’ve lived with family, roommates, and friends on various occasions and have definitely relied on support from family in the past. But for the last ten years plus, I have been alone. Lived alone, paid my own way, made my own choices about health, home, and happiness. And I have no regrets.
I watch my friends who are married or in significant relationships where decision making is shared—or not; while I admire them, I don’t at all envy them. I like my space; I like to come home to a quiet relaxing place where no one else is putting demands on me; I like to make choices about what I do, when I do it, where I go and how I get there, how the money I’ve earned is spent and what will happen in my home. That’s not to say however, that when the chips are down and things get a little rough, I don’t wish there was someone to share that burden, just a bit. And it’s not just the rough times, I also want someone to share in the laughter and play that life usually sends my way.
I used to believe that the desire and perhaps ability to commit (perhaps true love) would come to me when I had learned to love myself; the “if you can’t love yourself, how can you love someone else?” theory. Well, if I loved myself anymore y’all it would be illegal in 46 states. So that certainly can’t be it. Perhaps my independence puts people off. If it does, so be it. I think I often make being alone look easy. It’s not at all. I’ve kissed a lot of frogs in the search of a partner.
I know a lot of strong independent women. Most of my friends are such, either by choice or circumstance. I admire them the most. We all are doing quite well on our own and in support of each other. But that don’t mean, that we wouldn’t all take a helping hand and heart along our journey from someone who loves us.
And men, being with someone who is strong enough to make their own decisions and has their own interests, is actually a good thing; a really good thing. It frees you up for some of that beer drinking, video game playing, hunting/fishing, kind of stuff you like to do without us in tow. And yes, while we can buy our own diamonds and our own rings, we’d be equally as happy to share that expense with you!