The Tightrope

I have just moved to Vancouver, Canada, from Sydney, Australia, relocating my entire life basically just for a change. I was single, most of my friends were married, there were no dating prospects on the horizon and I had been in the same job for a decade. It seemed like a good time for a change.

Having been single for many years, I am pretty independent, so it hasn’t been too much of a stretch to get my life here ‘organised’ – a job, a car, an apartment, all in a matter of weeks. I miss my people so desperately, but thankfully, in this age of technology with Facebook and Skype, communication is so much easier. I haven’t felt particularly lonely or freaked out, it’s all been pretty smooth.

Things took an interesting twist last week when I injured my back. Nothing too dramatic, just a symptom of lifting heavy suitcases and IKEA bags, and more walking than usual in silly shoes. However, I am a real baby when it comes to back pain, and it completely wrote me off. I was basically in a haze of painkillers for a week, getting up to go to work, then heading home to crawl back into bed.

When I eventually did tell one of my girlfriends why I had been ‘offline’ all week, I got really teary and emotional, for no apparent reason – my back was much better, I wasn’t in a lot of pain. I realised that what I was actually emotional about was the fact that no one really needed to know where I had been. All of a sudden, I felt incredibly alone.

It got me thinking about the proverbial tree falling in the forest – if a single girl, who lives alone, hurts her back and no one knows, does it really matter?

But it’s good to be independent isn’t it? Isn’t that the ideal we are striving for?

It has become more and more clear, the older I get as a single woman, that there is a constant tension between being fabulous and independent, and a lone ranger who is a little bit eccentric and crazy. On the one hand, I actually don’t have the luxury of relying on my significant other, so I have had to become savvy to travelling alone, eating alone, watching films alone – and in most cases I am totally fine with it. It is empowering and quite indulgent to be able to do basically whatever I want. On the other hand, we are actually not created to be alone, and inevitably, without human contact, I can go a little bit crazy, get a little bit selfish and basically spin out. Becoming content with this lifestyle of solitude, mixed with some emotional self-preservation, means I can forget that life is so much better with your Great Love by your side.

It’s actually quite a balancing act, a bit like a tightrope. It’s a fine line to walk and if you lean too far either way it can end up in a big old mess! And to be really honest, while it can be exhilarating, it’s also terrifying. After all, life usually doesn’t come with a safety net.

So how do I balance? What is the pole I can carry that will stop me from swaying so much. How do I do this single life well, without becoming content in loneliness? I have wrestled with this question, and hoped for a simple answer, but sadly I think there is only the hard answer. I need to know myself, and concentrate on the tightrope I am walking. I have got to live an examined life, not just wandering aimlessly, but consciously, with precision, navigating my journey. I need to keep watching the platform I am heading towards, and keep moving forward.

The other crucial part of the circus act that is my life, is the people watching in the bleachers. I need encouragement to make sure I keep going when I feel like shimmying quietly back to the platform and not moving forward. I need the occasional cheer and applause. That’s why I need my friends and family, my most beloved people, who gave me the strength to climb up the ladder in the first place.

And one day, when I meet someone fantastic, and make it to the platform at the other end of the tightrope (and move on to my next circus act!), there will be an enormous sigh of relief that I managed to make it without falling, a sense of great accomplishment, and a joyful crowd watching on!

Ruth

Tagged as: Ruth