I hate living alone.

Lucky you, you’ve chosen to read my blog on a day when I feel like complaining.  Sorry about that.  For your sake, I pray that by the end of this post, my complaints have been put in proper perspective and I have somehow found a way to put a sunny spin on everything that I, at this moment, feel contempt for.  Wish me luck…  (Now go back and read that paragraph imagining the appropriate amount of sarcasm in my voice.  Imagine me sitting here glaring at the computer screen.  Got the image?  Good.)

(And I really am sorry…)

I hate living by myself.  For almost two years, I’ve been saying that having a dog doesn’t help that, but I think I’m wrong.  Having a dog helps me ignore how incredibly alone I am.  Today my sister and my mom took the dog to their house until I get back from my vacation next week.  So now I am really ALONE.  You have no idea how alone you are until you’re the only living creature in your home.  (Okay, I’ll take into account the plants, and say the only breathing creature in your home.)

It’s not that I want more things to do with people.  I mean, I love having things to do with people.  But my point is, I have things to do with people.  What I want is someone to come home to after I’m done with those events.  Or someone to come home to me after they’re done with their day.  Someone to miss me if I don’t come home.  If I were to get in a car accident on my way home from the last thing I do for the day, nobody would realize it until the next morning when I didn’t show up for whatever I was doing that day.  Isn’t that sad?  It’s prideful and immature, I think, but I want to be important to someone. 

What is with the pain?  It’s supposed to be just waiting, just being patient until I find out if God has that particular path in store for my life.  It’s supposed to be just living my life to the fullest, right now, and not worrying about the rest.  But sometimes in the middle of living it to the fullest, it just hits me, out of the blue.  The pain that what I want most in life, I can’t have right now.  The fear that God’s answer is no, you may not have this.  The lack of trust and contentment in God’s plan for me, whatever it may be.  What is up with that?

You know, the other night I dreamed it was my wedding day.  I’m not going to tell you the whole story because it was one of those weird dreams where not much makes sense.  But one thing I remember clearly was my dress.  I remember the neckline, the beading, the skirt, every detail.  (Interestingly, I don’t think it was a dress I would have chosen in real life, but it was beautiful in the dream!)  The weird thing is, I don’t really care about the wedding.  I don’t care about a wedding dress, or the color of the bridesmaids’ shoes, or  decorations on every third pew, or having the perfect you-fill-in-the-blank on my wedding day.  Those details aren’t important.  The important thing about that day will be the person.  I want the relationship, I want that life with someone. 

But I can’t figure out what God wants.

Maybe there will be a sunny spin tomorrow…


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