I'm sitting here on Christmas morning feeling very much at peace for what is probably the first time in my life. I've been very VERY guilty of wishing my life away up 'till this point. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a grownup. When I grew up I wanted to be married. When I got married I wanted a baby. When I had a baby I wanted to be single again. When I got single I wanted a relationship. When I got a relationship I wanted my freedom. About ten years of waffling back and forth between relationships and freedom and now I am free once again. Except this time I'm enjoying it.
Times before when I've found myself single it was always because one relationship had ended and the next one had yet begun. I had lost one and was looking for another. This time I intentionally got rid of one (a big difference from losing one) and I really can't imagine looking for another. They say when you stop looking for Mr. Right he will find you, but I'm not even sure I want to be found.
I have The Boy, and I'm so proud of the man he's turning into. It has been a VERY long and hard road but he really seems to have matured five years in the last six months.
I have SO MANY wonderful friends. And I'm discovering that what I thought was a fear of being alone was actually a fear of having no choice BUT to be alone. Today I spent my Christmas morning in my jammies, with my dogs, watching A Christmas Story on TV. And I haven't felt sorry for myself once. I think it's not only because I saw The Boy last night, and I have somewhere to go in a few hours, but also because I know that there are multiple places I could be and people I could be with rightthisverysecond if I wanted to.
There's a very big difference between alone and lonely.
I have my animals. My loyal lap dog Boo, always there for a snuggle. My House Pony Rue, making me laugh every single day. My lap cat Smudge, who I swear thinks he's one of the dogs. And my new baby Spot, my shy boy who surprises me with a snuggle every time I think he'll never really be "mine".
As I sit here, rotating between writing this, watching Ralphie nearly shoot his eye out, and scrolling Facebook, I see people sharing many different kinds of Christmas. I do have a little twinge of missing the past when I see the lit up trees with all of the presents underneath. As much as I always dreaded Christmas and all of the work that was involved in the process, Christmas morning with kids in the house was a joy. Then again I was in bed by 10 last night while those friends were up wrapping and assembling 'till long after Santa's rounds were done. I'll leave my clean-ish house this afternoon, carrying one made dish and one bought one, and come back to the same clean-ish house with a belly full of food I didn't have to cook, and a heart full of love from my family that isn't blood but treats me as if we were.
So far in my life I've experienced many kinds of Christmas morning. I've been 14 months pregnant on Christmas (I swear it's true). I've been on the receiving and giving ends of the ridiculously overflowing Christmas of an only child. I've had the warm, precious and rare "look they're getting along" moments of two kids in the house. I've had lonely, sad tear-filled Christmas mornings, and now I have peaceful, contentedly alone Christmas mornings. Some day soon I hope to have Christmas mornings full of grandchildren's laughter. All in due time.
But for now, this is Christmas, and it's perfect.