NOT CRICKET: It bothers me
This is pretty personal stuff and forgive the ridiculously self-indulgent nature of it. My blog wasn’t really intended for the boring minutiae of my not very exciting life.
But I’ve been struggling recently. Struggling on a number of fronts. With juggling being a single mum and having a career. With money. With self-confidence. With feeling stuck in a rut. I cry over nothing and I feel pretty shite quite a lot of the time.
I mean I’m ok. I’m functioning. I can laugh. I am enjoying both my jobs, I enjoy playing hockey, I love cricket (obviously) and I do get pleasure from my little boy.
But I’m struggling. And mostly I’m struggling because I’m lonely. There I’ve said it. And I can feel you cringeing as you read that. I agree, it’s not very British to write those words is it? I cringed as I typed them.
Every rational bone in my body tells me I shouldn’t be bothered about being single. It’s not that big a deal. I’m an independent woman with an income, my own house, a car, you know – stuff. I don’t NEED a man. Of course, I don’t NEED a man.
Recently, someone set up a rather unkind parody twitter account of me which took the piss out of my seemingly not very well hidden sadness at being single. I won’t link to it because I don’t really want to give it oxygen – it’s just a piss taking account that I probably ask for given how much I give away about myself on Twitter. I don’t know who set it up but if it was designed to hurt me, it worked.
It’s not nice having to admit loneliness. And it’s not nice to have to admit that no one really wants you. It’s not nice spending every single evening alone on the sofa when sometimes you want to tell someone your day was a bit rubbish or ask someone what you should dress your son up for World book day or how you get him to go to sleep at night. It’s not nice to constantly hear yourself being the one to say “James go to sleep.” ”James put your shoes on”. ”James please don’t draw on the walls”. I hear myself sometimes and all I hear is some horrible nagging woman.
It’s not nice to always have to make your own cup of tea. Sometimes I’d just like to have one made for me. It’s not a big thing. It’s a very little thing. But it bothers me.
But mostly it’s hard not to take it personally. It’s not easy to put your single status down to bad timing, or luck or circumstance or just one of those things. It’s not easy to not think there’s something wrong with you. Am I not pretty enough? Am I not thin enough? Am I too bolshy? Am I too highly strung?
Of course there’s something wrong with me. There’s something wrong with all of us. I’m no Angel. I’m annoying, ranty, anger-filled, bitter, jealous, extraordinarily emotional and probably pretty selfish. I’m not young. I’m a single mum.
None of those things are going to put me at the top of the “must have that woman” list.
I’m not pretty in the sense that I’m not one of those women that blokes would do that jaw drop thing I’ve seen them do with other women.
I know all this. I’m self aware.
But does the sum of all that mean I don’t deserve intimacy, love, companionship – all the things that I’m pretty sure most people spend their lives looking for (until they find it)?
I don’t know. Maybe it does.
It feels ludicrously selfish to be bothered by something like this when the world is a massive shitfest of suffering and pain and of course I’m grateful that I live in relative comfort.
I don’t really know what the point of this post was actually other than to write down that it bothers me that I’m alone. It shouldn’t. I try not to let it. But the brutal truth is – it does.