And Then There Was One

I'm the lone single woman on this blog, and that likely won't change any time soon. As the lone single (single lone?), it's hard for me to come up with things to write about that don't sound like complaining or that don't dismiss the struggles of the new parent and new wife on here. However, I've recently figured out that, if I think about it, there are a lot of topics within the overall subject of singleness. I just have to, you know, think about it.

Since there are heavy topics and light topics, and since I'm tired and worried about other things right now, I'll start with a lightish topic: isolation.

Really, isolation could go either way, and can be very heavy, but this recent experience with it is more of a "well, that's how it is" moment than a "oh, I can't do this anymore" moment, if that makes sense. I'm currently serving in the Primary presidency of my ward--we are in charge of the Sunday activities of the children from 18 months to 12 years old, and we also concern ourselves (in a limited way) with their home lives. I am the oldest in this presidency and the only single, childless member. The women with whom I serve have all dealt with weird pregnancy issues--one lost multiples because of a uterine anomaly, one has health issues that prevent her from having anything other than C-section births--and they talk about them. That's fine. I think it's good to talk about these things so others know they're not alone and are prepared for the strange things that can happen. I don't really mind hearing about all the blood tests and appointments that come along with high-risk pregnancies (after all, I'm automatically high-risk just because of age) and I don't mind hearing about all the strange and wonderful things that go along with being a parent.

I just feel out of place when the topic moves that direction. I don't have anything but second-hand experience to contribute, and sometimes I get the feeling that my friends feel a little awkward discussing things to which I can't personally relate. I joke that I pay attention and take notes so I can be a better mom someday, but lately there's the mental undercurrent that I may never get to be a mom and the joke is losing its ability to make me feel better about my situation. One night after a meeting, the three of them started talking about hospitals and obstetricians and I had nothing to contribute to the conversation, so I politely excused myself and left.

Like I said, these moments don't make me despair (most of the time...), but they're still a little new and raw. For years I reasoned that I could deal with them because someday I'd be a mother, but now the impending loss of fertility and introduction of menopause are staring me in the face. Not that I'm going to really hit menopause until I'm in my 50s, but I'm almost 40 and my chances of having a child on my own are very, very slim, even with modern medical technology. No one in my family that I know of has had a child past 35. I don't know what to expect, but I do know the odds are stacked firmly against me and I just have to deal with that like I deal with wrinkles and cellulite. Wrinkles and cellulite are just part of life, and there's not much I can do about them, so I try not to get hung up on them. It's the same thing with being single and almost 40; it's literally a shrug of the shoulders and an "oh, well!" because there's not much I can do about it on my own.

It is what it is, and while it feels odd to be isolated in this way, it's not really disturbing or distressing. Most people don't understand, and that's ok. It's not their fault. This is just how life happens, and you either freak out about it and waste a lot of energy, or recognize that it's out of your hands (for the most part) and shrug and move on.

What's interesting, though, is that I almost feel like isolation bubble is protecting me--it's not unfriendly or threatening or sad, it's just different. And if I can't contribute to a conversation, it's ok to excuse myself and be alone in my bubble for a while.

I promise...

Last night I had no fewer than three people ask me if I'm seeing anyone.  It kind of made me laugh, because I know they just want me to be happy and they think I'm worth dating.  I'm usually not offended when people wonder about my love life.  One of them, a dear elderly man, said he couldn't understand why I wasn't married yet.  He said I was attractive, talented, and smart; I smiled and thanked him and told him I would definitely let him know when I started dating someone.

When I get engaged, I want everyone in the world to know it.  I want them to know that it was worth the wait and all the prayers and tears and questions.  I also want them to know that it is better to be single than to be in a rotten relationship.

I want everyone to see my engagement ring.  I know engagement rings have a controversial history, but I want one.  I want a visible symbol of love and commitment, but when it comes down to it, I'll be happy with something very simple like a plain band.  I want to marry someone observant and thoughtful enough to ignore convention and not be pressured into buying a big diamond just because everyone says he has to.  I want to marry someone who wants to buy me pretty things. 

Let's be honest, though, I do want a really sparkly ring.  And I WILL show it off every chance I get.

Sideways

I've discovered, in my old age, that there is nothing that can adequately prepare you for being single in your late 30s.  Sure, I know people who went through this and are single in their 60s or 70s, and I'm sure nothing has prepared them for that.  This whole thing is really hard some days.  I got through my 20s single, and maybe I just stopped thinking about how hard it was, how weird it is to hear someone talking about their neice or friend who "got married later, you know, at 26".  Just TRY not to smile a little when you hear that and you're well past 26!  It's not as though you wake up every day and say to yourself, "man, it's going to be hard out there today because I'm single and almost 40!"  You just kind of live your life, and in the course of living your life, you don't really think about how hard it is being single until something blindsides you.

 

For instance, I have friends from high school who are preparing their sons for missions earlier than they thought because of the recent age change that was announced.  These women are my age, and their sons are going to be on missions in a year.  Less than a year, some of them.  I'm old enough to be helping a son prepare, but I don't have a son.  Here's another one:  some of these friends may have grandchildren the same age as my children, if I'm lucky enough to have kids in this life.  Try imagining that when you are 15 years old and thinking about what your future will be like!  One more:  One of my friends was talking about how hard it was to send her youngest child to kindergarten.  I said, "Oh, I might be peri-menopausal when I send my oldest to kindergarten--think about dealing with those hormones!"  We got a good laugh out of that, but it's a definite probability.

 

The other day at the hardware store, I saw a man I was good friends with in high school and during my first stint in college.  I didn't say hello because it completely unnerved me to see him with two small boys.  I knew he was married and was pretty sure he had kids, but seeing him interact with those adorable boys was gut-wrenching for some reason, so I pretty much ran away, unable to talk to him.  It unnerved me so much that I had to pray about WHY I was reacting so vehemently, and then I spent a couple of hours Facebook-stalking him and his wife to find out what their family life was like.  I found out how many kids they have, that she's had some major health problems recently, and that, judging from their family pictures, he loves her more than anything.  I'm sure that next time I see him, I will be able to greet him happily, get to know his kids' names, and tell his wife how much his friendship meant to me when I was younger.

 

After lots of thinking, I've decided the reason I was so freaked out at seeing him is that, at 17, I set him up as the ideal man.  When he got back from his mission and we were in college choir together, he was even more the ideal--kind, generous, smart, talented, grounded, respectful, spiritual, and someone who loved and respected women.  When I think of all the men I've known, only two come to mind as men who truly love and completely respect women.  Aaron is one of them.  After 20 years, he is still an ideal.  Seeing him interact so gently with his boys, and seeing, in pictures, what a fun dad he is and the incredible love he has for his wife, I can't help being happy that they found each other and have such a lovely family.  More than ever, I want to marry someone like him.  I think that's what blindsided me so hard that day; I know what I want, but finding him is getting harder.



Older Than You Think I Am

I live with my parents.  I have for a while, for good reasons I won't get into again in this post.  In the ward directory, I am listed separately from them with my own phone number.  People new to the ward might look at the directory and see two parents and two daughters in the same house and, without knowing the situation or meeting us, assume we're in our late teens or early twenties.  It's a fair mistake.  After all, when my siblings and I had moved out or were going to singles wards, a new couple in my parents' ward thought they were childless because they never saw them with children at church!  We all got a kick out of that one.  Again, a fair mistake.

I had an odd moment a couple of months ago:  a new family in our ward called me while I was at work.  I didn't answer because I didn't recognize the number, but I checked my voicemail as I was leaving the building.  It was the father in this new little family, asking me to babysit their two children so he and his wife could attend ward temple night.  He said that some of the young women weren't available and hoped I would be.  I was taken aback.  It's been several years since someone besides family has asked me to watch their kids.  I think the last time I did any babysitting was when I was 19 or 20 and doing overnights so the parents could go on vacation.  It was such an odd question that I didn't even know what to say when I called him back.  I joked with my parents that he couldn't afford my hourly rate, but I really didn't want to embarrass him because I understood that he'd never met me and had no idea how old I was.

When I called him back, I got his voicemail and just said that I hadn't planned on attending ward temple night and that I didn't get home from work until after 5, but that I would be happy to watch his kids if they couldn't find someone else.  I didn't say anything about money because I wouldn't have wanted them to pay me--it would be a service on my part if they wanted me.

I never heard back, and it's never come up in subsequent interactions with them.  I think they figured out that I was a little bit older and it might be weird to ask me to watch their kids.  They're a great couple and their kids are adorable; I'm perfectly willing should they need me.  I don't think they will.

As many experiences like this as I've had, I really shouldn't be disconcerted that people assume I have a lot of free time and don't have a "real" job just because I'm single and live at home...and yet I am always a little taken aback at the assumptions.  I've learned to chuckle at it, help where I can, and be as kind as possible.  It wouldn't be fair of me to assume they know my life.

It Is What It Is

It's been a rough couple of months in my little world.  There have been two funerals in four weeks in my ward--funerals for people I admire and care deeply for, and it's been very difficult.  There have been financial crises and car problems and surprise weight gain and illness.  I've been slightly depressed for weeks, I don't know how I fit into my new job, and I don't wear my favorite clothes there because they could be considered too embellished or decorative for what I'm doing now.  I need to dust my house, I need to clean off my desk, I need to get my car inspected before I get pulled over for having an expired registration.  I need to put my summer clothes away and get out my winter clothes, but that is hard to do when it is 75 degrees on Halloween and I feel uncomfortable wearing my colorful tights to work.

I'm emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted right now.  I don't feel like myself and I can't figure out if it's my new job or something else that is eating at me.  I enjoy the work, but I don't LOVE it, and sometimes I feel guilty because of that.  But, really, should I be wearing myself out trying to LOVE my job, or should I instead be focused on doing my job well and being reliable?  My boss wants me to LOVE my job, and I don't know how to break it to him that that is probably never going to happen.  Work is something I do to pay the bills.  If I enjoy it (or don't resent it) most of the time, that's great, but I can think of only one job that I'll actually LOVE:  being a wife and mom.  Unfortunately, I don't see myself getting that job any time soon, so I have to keep deflecting my boss's questions about how much I LOVE my job.  I suppose I'll eventually have to have that conversation with him, and he'll tell me that maybe I should be looking for something else to do, and then I'll go home and cry because the things I really want to do aren't exactly easy to get.

That seems like the cycle of my 30s:  make big plans, realize that big plans cost money, remember that I got a non-technical degree, look at grad schools, apply for grad schools, get rejected from grad schools, find a job I don't resent on a daily basis, wonder why I'm slightly depressed, make big plans...

Fortunately, in the midst of all of that, I have a pretty great family and some really great friends.  I even occasionally get to flirt with handsome men and wear my pretty things, so it could be worse.  Like it'll be if I hit my 40s still single and being paid less than I'm worth...

Awkward

I got a Valentine.

You'd think this would be a positive sign, but it really isn't. The Valentine came from a man in my ward. It's just a bag of candy with a note on it, nothing big, but it's unnerving and distressing and awkward. This man (a kind and thoughtful man, mind you) is and never will be marriage material. I hear myself say it out loud and I feel terrible, but he has some physical and intellectual limitations that make it impossible for me to see him as anything but a kind and thoughtful man. There are some things I can deal with, but his limitations are such that they automatically write him off even for a friendship.

I've tried my best to not encourage him at all in this, but you know that sometimes no matter what you do, it isn't enough to deter someone who is very determined. He sits by me in Sunday school when he can, he goes out of his way to shake my hand (sometimes to the point of coming to my pew in church when I've already sat down). IT IS AWKWARD. We had a ward activity a while ago that involved music, and he asked me to dance. I was a little prepared, so I was able to politely decline because I was keeping someone else company. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I CAN'T encourage him in this.

This is one of those times when it would be highly convenient to have a serious boyfriend. I know I shouldn't ask Heavenly Father for a boyfriend just to avoid this other guy, but I must admit I'm sorely tempted sometimes. Ha. I'm sorely tempted to make up a boyfriend, but then I'd have to explain myself to my entire ward and that would be even more awkward, wouldn't it? Sigh.

I hate walking this line; it is such a disconcerting position to be in. I've been here before, but not with someone quite as limited as him, so it's even more awkward than it usually is.

I guess I should be grateful that he's not doing this to someone of a less appropriate age--I'd rather it was me than someone younger and more likely to be freaked out by his attention. Still, I wish it wasn't this way.

The thought of eating the candy he gave me makes me nauseated, and I just can't do it.

Church tomorrow has a very high weirdness index.

Difficult Weekend

While my entire immediate family, except me, gathered together with my brother, my brother's wife, and my brother's wife's entire immediately family for a Thanksgiving meal back in The Homeland, I sat with some friends I've known for less than six months. Well, two friends I've known for less than six months, one of their girlfriends who I just met last week, and some family of hers I still am unclear of her relation to (besides the one that is her mother). Yet another year as a Thanksgiving orphan.

While I'm incredibly grateful I didn't have to resort to ordering Chinese and eating alone, I really wanted to spend Thanksgiving with friends or family I've known for longer than that. Maybe next year I will.

Unfortunately, the rest of the weekend has spiraled downwards for me. I've spent time with other friends, relaxed, tried to be productive, attended the temple, and reflected on my blessings. It was a fairly typical weekend. Last night, however, just I was about to go to bed, I was hit with a sudden and intense loneliness worse than I've felt in quite some time. I missed my family, I missed having someone to hold/be held by, and I was angry at all the men who have taken me for granted, hurt me, and let me go.

Unsurprisingly, I didn't sleep very well. We all have our own brand of loneliness - mine comes from living thousands of miles from my parents and siblings and grandparents and the family dog, hundreds of miles from aunts and uncles - alone in my own apartment, which I love most of the time. I have friends, close friends for sure, but no default, always there needs me as much as I need them kind of friend. It's just me against the world right now and there's a lot on my plate that I'm trying to face on my own right now.

And it's hard.

It's so hard that when I reached into my fridge tonight for some vegetables, I got so overwhelmed that I had to close my refrigerator door, sit down on my dirty kitchen floor (dirty because I haven't had time to clean it and certainly no one else will be doing it), and just breathe on the verge of tears for a couple of minutes. It didn't last long, but it was a low moment.

Maybe it's the hormones combined with the holiday (yay menstruation!). Maybe it's just that I'm really stressed with my professional life right now. Maybe I'm just lonely.

Thank you for reading this far. Posts like this are what this blog is about after all - the secret thoughts of the frustratingly single. I'll get through this. I always do. In the meantime, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I just hope my subconscious wants to play nice tonight.

Heart

Recently, I've had the regular opportunity to be around some adorable children. They are so sweet--yes, they're little monsters, but they're SO sweet. It has been a delight to be around them. Tonight, one of them did something so cute I could barely contain myself. I turned to the woman next to me (who has children in a range of ages, the oldest just about married) and said "I want a baby RIGHT NOW!" She smiled and said, "they're awfully cute, aren't they? Are you trying to have kids?" I laughed and replied, "I'm not even married yet! Let me rephrase: I want a date, and then a second date, and then a boyfriend, and then a fiance, and then a husband, and THEN a baby. I have to do it all in the right order, you know!" She laughed too, and then touched my hand and said, "You have a wonderful mother heart. I can tell just watching you how loving you are. Don't ever lose that heart!"

I was sincerely touched. I told her I was doing my best to stay gentle and loving, even though it's hard to be kind to everyone some days. . . It is good to be reminded that it's ok to be kind, especially to children. It's ok to call them "sweetie" when I see them. It's ok to let my heart be soft around them. Sometimes I think we feel like we can't allow ourselves to love because we might not get what we want to love. Yes, it's hard to love without the surety that we get to keep the loved one, but life is so much better when we allow ourselves to love spontaneously and honestly. I love the kids I get to interact with--I think I'll let myself do that without being upset about the children I don't have yet.

You Shouldn't Say

Here, for your benefit, are a list of things you shouldn't say to a single person or a couple dealing with infertility.

1. "Just relax." Which goes with "It will happen when you least expect it" or its twin "Stop trying and it will happen."
Everything I've ever gotten in life was because I did something. Part of getting married is actually putting yourself out there the best you know how. People get pregnant because they do something, and in the case of infertility it's because they do a LOT of somethings. Telling someone to "just relax" is basically telling them faith doesn't need works. "Just relax" denies my works.

2. "Have you tried...? That's what worked for me."
That's wonderful. But I'm not you.

3. "I know how you feel."
Really? You've been exactly where I am with my exact background? If you have been in a similar situation it is to turn that from a "you" statement to an "I" statement. "I felt this way when..." rather than assuming you know how I feel. Or even just simply ask how I'm feeling.

4. "Everyone needs a favorite aunt." or "You can always adopt."
No, being single/infertile is not the end of the world and yes, there are other ways to be fulfilled in this life. But each person needs to figure them out on their own and it is nobody's place to say what to do next.

5. "Husbands/Kids are a lot of trouble."
I swear I'm walking out of a meeting if it ever turns into husband/kid bashing. There's a bumper sticker that says "A bad day fishing is better than a good day working." In some ways a bad day in a good marriage is better than a good day all alone.

6. "How are you doing?" when accompanied by sad puppy dog eyes of pity.
Please, hold the pity. It doesn't do anything to build anyone up. Especially if you give me pity about the area of my life that isn't going the way I want when I'm having a pretty good day in other areas of my life and would rather talk about that at the moment.

But that does not mean you should be silent and ignore reality. So here's some things you should say.

1. "Let me know if I can do anything."
And mean it. And then leave it.

2. "How are you doing?" when accompanied by genuine interest in my life as a whole.
Simply acknowledging there is more to my life than my marital/parental status is huge. When I want to talk about the marital/parental stuff I will, but if I don't bring it up, maybe you shouldn't either. The friends I appreciate the most are those who don't always press for details and who acknowledge me as a whole person.

The best response I've gotten about our infertility was when I told a friend why I couldn't schedule a meeting with her for a certain week because I wasn't sure what I'd be doing medically that week because of the next step we were taking and she replied with the most genuine and excited, "That's great!" She didn't give advice. She didn't give pity. She didn't judge. The most she's said since was to tell me once that she was thinking about us and praying for us. And isn't that what we all need.

Discouraged

Roxie and I were talking the other day about how easy it sometimes is to be discouraged, and she made the point that discourage essentially means "taking away courage". Last night, I got a rejection form letter for a job I applied for, and today I feel hopeless and discouraged. I feel afraid to try anything else right now because I'm certain it won't work. I feel like I'm not good enough to try to get out of my dead-end job, that I'll be stuck here forever, gradually gaining 100 pounds through inactivity and losing whatever IQ I have through mindless repetition, eventually becoming grotesque and pointless and redundant.

I posted about being lonely a couple of days ago, and that feeling is just adding to my current spate of discouragement. Sometimes this being single business is REALLY hard.

I've been doing Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred program and liking it quite a bit. I haven't leveled up yet but plan to in the next week or so. There's a thing she says at the very end of Level 1, when you're doing bicycle crunches and your abs are screaming. She says, "I know it's hard. That knot in your stomach right now? It's you getting stronger. It's fear leaving your body." I really like hearing that. At first I wasn't sure what she meant, but when I figured it out, it made so much sense. It's the fear of not being able to finish that workout AGAIN, but you power through anyway, and you're done! So I guess we need to fight the fear in our lives in the same way, right?

I guess I just have to keep going through this little setback. I have to power through another set of spiritual bicycle crunches so I can come out stronger in the end. But, much like a workout routine, it's really hard to keep going when you don't see immediate results. That's what has me down today. I'm losing the courage to change my life.

Lonely

In the last couple of weeks, I've had moments of loneliness. I'm surrounded by people I love and who love me, I'm happy with my life, but there are times I'm suddenly so lonely it knocks the wind out of me. I wonder, during those brief moments, if I can handle a lifetime of them. I don't want to handle a lifetime of intense, if occasional, aloneness, but I've dealt with a lot of things I wouldn't purposely seek out. I suppose if it is my lot to be single the rest of my life, I'll be blessed to be happy in the midst of my trials.

But it would really be nice to have a husband soon.

Young

I met someone the other night who knows my dad through work. When I told her hi from him, she said, "oh, he's a dear! I'll tell him I met you when I see him again!" (In order to keep this as anonymous as it is, I'm trying not to be a name-dropper. Sorry about the vagueness.) I felt inspired by this woman and refreshed on my journey to other employment/education.

Yesterday, on IM, my dad said he'd seen this acquaintance and she'd asked a little more about me. He told her my age and some other things, and her comment, which he passed on to me, was that I was a young 36. I laughingly responded that I'm a "young 36" because I haven't lost my curiosity or ability to be silly, but I really think that's one of the reasons people don't think I'm my age. What's the point of growing up if you're going to get stodgy or so focused on one thing that you're boring? If I feel like skipping down the hall, I'll skip down the hall, darn it! You can't stop me. I guarantee I'm more attractive and fun to be around that some 36-year-old who isn't willing to be silly or who isn't interested in the wonderful world around her. I haven't had a date in a few weeks, but that really has nothing to do with this kind of attractiveness. Children like to talk to me, the elderly seem to LOVE me, and people in general seem to find me easy to be around.

If wearing polka dot socks with my red shoes is the reason, I'll keep doing it, laughing to myself all the way.

Things I won't say

That I won't cry if Campbell gets engaged to this girl he's dating.

That I'm completely over even the idea of a relationship with him.

That I'm not a tiny bit shallow because I think she has bad skin and brassy hair and that I'm prettier.

That I'm not a tiny bit at peace with it all.

That we didn't have potential for something awesome.

That I don't miss his friendship.

That I'm not confused by the way things worked out.

I will say that I wish I understood why we were such good friends if he's not going to be part of my life ever again.

I will also say that I'm working on a much longer post wherein I try to be philosophical and hopeful even though another Person With Potential no longer has any potential.

It's hard. What's that line from "When Harry Met Sally"? Oh yes--Marie turns to Jess and says, "Tell me I'll never have to be out there again," and Jess replies, "You'll never have to be out there again." Out There kind of sucks. This whole balancing act between not liking someone enough and liking them too much JUST IN CASE he might or might not like-like you back? It's stupid. It's exhausting. I'm tired. I'm usually optimistic enough to accept set-ups (few and far between as they are) with good humor and an open mind, but the latest guy, The Professor (I think that's what I'll call him if anything pans out), has been exchanging emails with me for a month and hasn't made a single move. All I really want is the reassurance that I don't have to be on this particular balance beam/roller coaster/seesaw very much longer, and that there will come a day (soon, please) where I know I'll never have to be Out There again.

I won't say I'm looking forward to much of anything right now. Sigh.

Bishops and being single

Last Sunday the first counselor in our bishopric was changed for the third time (meaning four first counselors) since we joined this ward a year and a half ago. The counselor being released seems like a good enough guy, but I never interacted with him really at all (nor the two previous ones). Which made me think about other bishoprics I've known.

I know who our bishop is. He knows my name. But beyond a handshake at meetings or the interviews for callings, I haven't interacted with him much at all. Which seems strange, maybe.

When I was single I KNEW my bishops. They had me in their home. I knew their families. I knew I could call them at any time day or night and they'd turn the porch light on and be there (I think that's true of all bishops and all the members of their wards, but how many of you would feel comfortable doing that? I not only felt comfortable, I did it at least once). Dinners. Interviews. Activities. My bishops were very much a part of my life.

And you know what. That's what I needed then. The priesthood was in my home through my bishops and home teachers. But I really don't need that type of relationship now. Maybe part of that change is because I'm married and I have my husband as my nearest priesthood holder.

I respect all of the bishops I have had. When I needed them to be a larger part of my life, they were. If I ever need it again I know they'll be there. But they can focus on a few people who probably need them more than I do right now.

Family of One?

The First Presidency message in April 2007 was by President Faust and was titled "Enriching Your Marriage." Why do I remember this four years later?

In 2007 I was single. I was living alone. I wasn't really dating anyone. And I was also in a really rough spot in my life. When the calendar switched over from 2006 to 2007 I actually broke down in tears because I was terrified of what would happen in 2007, and it was a killer of a year. I had read the message before my home teachers came that month and I was looking forward to discussing it with them. However, when they came, they shared with me an article in Wired magazine about happiness. Wired? Really? As someone seriously struggling with depression at that moment, that was not what I needed to talk about.

So why would my home teachers choose to share something from Wired rather than the message from someone we sustain as a prophet? I can only conclude that they felt extremely uncomfortable talking about strengthening a marriage with someone that wasn't married. (I was not in a single's ward at the time, my home teachers were married. I think that's important to realize.) And why would that make them uncomfortable? Because single people don't have any family.

Right?

WRONG!

That is something I have heard so many times I couldn't begin to count. You're single. You don't have any family. And it couldn't be more wrong.

Even when I was single, even when I lived all alone, I had family. I have parents. I have siblings. I have grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, so much family. And I had the promise from God of more family after me, a husband and children. I don't know anyone who doesn't have room to strengthen their relationships with their family. The more I knew about having a strong marriage before I got married, the stronger foundation my marriage would have.

Single people don't have family? The people I know who have the BEST relationship with their families are often single people. My dad's cousin never married, but she knows our family better than anyone. If you want to know anything about my genealogy on that side, ask her. When she leaves this world there will be SOOO many family members to welcome her, and she KNOWS them. She has a very strong relationship with her family.

I even had family home evening when I was single (it often involved a bubble bath). The more strength I had with my family at that time would be strength I could take with me into my expanding family. Habits do not change at a wedding. Habits that enrich and strengthen a family start long before a wedding.

Family of one? Such a thing just doesn't exist.

Roxie and the Single's Ward

All three of us have had our experiences with single's/student wards and stakes. And since the LDS Church announced last week that they are doing away with the "student" designation of those units and instead designating them all as YSA (young single adult) units for all single people between the ages of 18 and 30, this seemed like a good time to talk about the different experiences we've had, because they have been different.

I actually started life in a single's ward. My dad had been in a leadership position when he got married and they asked him to stay on after he got married. So my mom married into a single's ward and I was soon on the way. Shortly after I was born they released my dad and our family moved into a family ward.

My single's ward experiences of memory mainly came during college. I went to BYU and attended the student wards the whole time I was there. For the most part they were pretty good. And while I was that age they served their purpose. My last year though I could tell I was starting to out grow them (at the ripe old age of 23). And there were a few things they were doing that really rubbed me wrong.

Yes, this is a family oriented church, and I'll have more on that at a later date. But the point of the gospel is to bring salvation to our souls, not to get everyone married as fast as possible. And the last two stakes I was in at BYU seemed to have that a little backwards.

The stake I was in the summer before my last year had a fireside for all the engaged, and prospectively engaged, couples in the stake. I didn't go, as there was something wrong with me in college that I didn't date, but my roommate went. And my roommate and her fiancé actually walked out early. In an effort to talk about how important talking and communication is in a marriage, including about sex, they had very well drawn images of the different parts of the body involved in sex that they showed everyone and talked about. Seems a little off for a Sunday evening fireside in a large group setting. Seems a little more appropriate for an individual meeting with a bishop.

After that summer I moved apartments and ended up in a different stake. This stake had a stated policy of changing which apartments met together for Monday night every month so that people would meet more people and get married faster. They also kept statistics on each ward in the stake and made graphs of how many people were attending sacrament meeting, how many were attending Sunday School, how many were doing their home and visiting teaching, and the last graph was of how many people in each ward got engaged each month. Seriously!? I was very proud to never be on that graph. And when I moved out of that apartment after graduation I also left the single's wards.

I was in a family ward for the next six years and loved it. It was a younger ward (we had nine nurseries at one point and only ever had one young man). I didn't feel at all like an outsider. I fit in. I served in several callings. Some of my best friends are from that ward. And it was because of that ward that I met the man who eventually became my husband (one of my friends in the ward set us up). It was not a single's ward that put us together. In fact, if I had been in a single's ward I'm not so sure we would have met. I actually got set up several times while I was in that ward (something about being married makes you set up your friends), comb-over guy was one of those.

When my next move, at 29, took me out of Utah, I told my mom I would give the single's wards another try. I originally said six months, she told me I had to give it a year. 52 Sundays later I was done and was back in a family ward. The single's ward felt far too much like a continuation of the Young Women's program rather than a progression, both spiritually and socially. Relief Society is supposed to help me learn how to enrich my home, not paint my nails. And you can only watch couples make-out in sacrament meeting for so long before you start to puke.

I'm not going to say that all single's wards are bad, but they are definitely different. They have their time and place and for some people they really are just what they need. Each ward is different as well. I'm just a person who would rather hear sacrament talks on more topics than just getting married and I'd rather hear testimonies about the gospel rather than about loving your roommates or how you aren't good enough for your fiancé.

The family wards I was in when I was single were wonderful wards where I felt welcome and never felt strange that I didn't have a husband. And you don't need a single's ward to get married, in fact, sometimes it works out better without them.

Triggers

I caught myself whining today, feeling sorry for myself and starting down a mental and emotional path that could potentially trigger some self-destructive behavior. I've been down that road before, and it's hard not to give in some days, but I know I'll be happier if I don't shut down and spend days in my room...especially this time of year.

It's not easy to be alone for the holidays, even when you're surrounded by family. It's not easy to want a relationship with a particular person but never see it happen. It's not easy to be responsible for everything and have no one with whom to share the burden. It's not easy to be happy for others all the time.

However. All these things CAN be done, and they can be done without pulling those triggers that lead down unwanted and unpleasant paths. It's a lot more pleasant to have a quiet Christmas with your parents than to wake up one morning and realize that you haven't been happy or social for days because you're feeling sorry for yourself.

Here's what I think:

If I can't get motivated, start doing SOMETHING.

If looking at the world around me is hard, look more.

If the internet is too tempting, stand up and walk away.

If I'm feeling trapped, move furniture.

If I'm feeling sad, find reasons to be happy.

If I can't seem to get anything done, complete one simple thing.

If I wander around at night because I don't want to sleep, take some melatonin and leave a light on if I have to.

If getting up is hard, get up anyway and do some squats.

If eating is unappetizing, find something appetizing and eat it.

Read your scriptures.

Exercise.

Take care of yourself.

Watch Christmas movies.

Call your grandmother.

Do something creative.

Remember who you are.

Just Because I'm Single Doesn't Mean I'm Not Busy

Perhaps I sometimes overreact to things, especially when I've been under stress and haven't eaten in more than three hours, but it irks me when it seems as though people assume I have a lot of time just because I'm single.

Examples:

I don't answer my cell phone at work unless it's family or I feel strongly that I should. In fact, I rarely check my voicemail until after I get home from work. I have gotten surprised reactions from people when I tell them that I was at work when they called, as if they didn't expect me to be holding down a full-time job. One of them even said, "Oh, so you're a nine-to-fiver, then." Well, yes. I have been for a while now, and sometimes it's even eight to six! Someone has to pay my bills.

Sometimes people corner me at church and act surprised when I tell them that I can't go to their book club or help with a funeral or meetings at assisted living facilities on weekends because I take some classes or sub in the temple or have family obligations.

Other times, someone will ask me to put something together for a ward party and is slightly confused when I say I don't really have the time to do so.

Once, and I think I may have referred to this in a much earlier blog, a woman I grew up with was visiting the ward and said, when I told her I was tired and busy in response to her asking how I was, "It's all that partying!" No. It isn't. Believe me.

Sure, I'm not as relatively busy as a women with five small children or toddler twins, or someone who works full-time and then comes home to her kids, but I still have a schedule. There are days I don't get home until 14 hours or more after I leave in the morning. There are days when I have to be in two places at once and put a lot of miles on my car. I have previous obligations and things to do at home, and just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm irresponsible.

Like I said, maybe I overreact (I need to watch myself and work on that), so it's nice when people understand that when I say no, it's not just out of stubbornness or unwillingness. Most often, when I say no, I mean that I really, truly can't. The flesh is willing, but the calendar is full. Besides, if I sat at home all the time feeling sorry for myself, that wouldn't be very attractive or productive, right? :)

I Can't Say

Once again, I'm at a loss for words on this blogging as a single girl thing. I haven't had many adventures lately, or at least I haven't had any adventures I can write about without compromising my anonymity, so this is hard.

Frankly, I have more angst about my job lately than I do about being single. Go figure.

This is one of those weeks when I feel like I have too much on my plate and don't feel like doing the things I need to do. I've had a couple of events pop up suddenly that have put a wrench in my free time (which, lately, is housework time) and things have gotten behind. Earlier today I realized that an event I'd mostly been looking forward to is now an event I don't want to think about. It's tonight, though, and it's for church, and I have hit a point of overwhelm so aggravating that the thought of dressing up, going anywhere, and being social is making me anxious. I'd much rather stay home and do laundry, sweep, vacuum, and sing along with my MP3 player.

The weird part of the anxiety and overwhelm is that I'm more naturally extraverted than Roxie and Jinxie, but there are days (weeks?) where I just can't bring myself to face society and I need to not do anything that involves anyone else. Today happens to be, unexpectedly, one of those days. See what I mean about wrenches?

I don't really feel like fielding any questions about work, or hobbies, or dating, or my family. I don't really feel like putting on mascara just to wash it off two hours later. I don't really feel like putting on nylons and heels and sitting at a table with people with whom I have little in common.

This is one of those days I'm feeling a little bit the burden of being single with no kids to talk about. It would be easier to do Relief Society things, I sometimes think, if it was easier to find common ground with the sisters in my ward.

When We're Helping, We're Happy?

Let me start off by saying that I wouldn't go back to a singles ward. Ever. MAYBE if you paid me, but it would have to be quite a sum; as in, enough to pay off my parents' house and buy my own 100 acre property in Montana with cash on the barrel head.

In any case, when I left the singles ward scene for good, I left behind three official callings: Relief Society teacher, ward organist, and choir accompanist. I was fine doing all three, even when I occasionally ended up doing all three on the same Sunday, because the ward was pretty small by Utah singles ward standards. I figured they needed someone to do it, and it was fine that it was me.

When I moved into a family ward again, I thought for sure the bishop would put me in Primary, because it seems that's what happened to so many of my single friends. He didn't, however. He actually said that he didn't want to just shunt me into Primary by default like so many bishops seemed to do, and he proceeded to call me as the ward music coordinator. I did not do a very good job in that calling, and to this day I have the urge to apologize to the other people who were involved. I eventually got released and didn't have a calling for a couple of months.

I wasn't too surprised when I got called to be a ward organist (one of two, so we always have an alternate in case something happens) again. I was glad for the chance--I like being up there playing a big instrument that intimidates so many people. I enjoy the hymns. I'm not at all concerned that people are Looking At Me (or Not). Ok, I'm concerned enough that I try to look nice, but I'm not terribly self-conscious about it.

I wasn't even too surprised when they added a second calling: Primary pianist. I guess the woman who had previously had that calling got called into Young Women and couldn't do both at the same time. This wasn't too big a deal--I'd substituted for her several times already and liked the kids. Unfortunately, because I was also a ward organist and had to stay in the chapel playing postlude music every other Sunday, I couldn't do both hours of Primary. Fortunately, they were able to call another woman to trade off with me.

This was all going rather well up until July. July, I was approached by the second counselor in the bishopric and asked to pick up a third calling. I kind of knew what was going to happen, and I had hoped for a teaching calling of some kind, but something told me it would be in music again. They couldn't have made me the conductor in Sacrament Meeting, and the Relief Society pianist had just been called. I thought, as I waited for the bomb to drop, "oh, please, not choir director."

Guess what? I'm now the choir director. And an organist, and a Primary pianist. It has been an interesting ride so far. So interesting, in fact, that when the second counselor (he's over music callings) called me several weeks ago to talk about how things were going, I blurted out, "well, you can't give me a fourth calling!" He replied, "well, yes we can! (TERROR) But we're not! (RELIEF)"

The arrangement seems to be working out (despite my trepidation toward and intimidation of leading the choir) but there are a couple of glitches: First, and less important, the other Primary pianist is going on a mission in a few months and, like I said, it seems that every other musically inclined person in a large ward is already in a demanding calling. I'm totally willing to cut postlude short and book it to Primary. I don't know how much the Primary presidency would appreciate that, but I'd give it a good shot.

Second, and more important, I sometimes feel like I'm showing off and it's the Sister Trixie One-Woman Talent Show. This last Sunday, the other organist was out of town so I played for her. I also led the choir. The two events just happened to coincide awkwardly with her being gone. Then, after Sunday School, I played for the second hour of Primary.

I hope the new members in the ward, or those who seem to have it in for me for some reason, know that I DON'T do this on purpose. I didn't ask for all these callings, but I long ago made peace with the idea that I'll probably always be doing something musical in every ward I'm in. I have a bit of musical talent but nothing profound or brilliant. I just believe that you accept the callings issued, and you don't ask to be released except in extreme circumstances. I mean, I had a stake president once who contracted cancer and didn't ask to be released--he soldiered on in pain and the faith that this was where Heavenly Father wanted him. I believe that sometimes callings are issued out of need AND out of inspiration. If this is where Heavenly Father wants me, I'll do the best I can.

I suppose, if someone doesn't like it, at least they don't have to do it.

I have faith that this is where Heavenly Father wants me to serve, and I hope I can be faithful enough that I wouldn't ask to be released...even if I had cancer.