“Oh my GOD you know everyone!”
I am attempting to point out to my dear friend there’s no way this is physically possible, but I choke on my words like they’re three day old egg salad as I come to the stunning realization that I did it.
The last five years in Big Suburb is a sudden flash through my mind, a This Was Your Whole Entire Life reel you always hear about that’s evidently mandatory viewing in life’s final moments …right there as I’m standing in my little local bar where so much of the story unfolded. You’ve come a long way, baby. I stop short of popping a mile-long Virginia Slim from its pack (a reference you only understand if you once negotiated the buttons of an 8-track player. Hi, Boomer.).
I was shaking in my spike-heeled boots when I moved to Big Suburb with a fork and a toothbrush, newly divorced and careerless, having fled a town that hated me for leaving my husband. I knew no one except Prepdude and his limited band of friends, whom I lost when I broke up with him. I had no job, no friends, no life.
But standing there tonight in that bar with my friend, I realized I had a business, a blog, a book, my bands, my friends, and myself. I have a life! She’s alliiiiiiveee!! I even have the yellow Jeep. And the best part about being alone? NO ONE else is directing my life and my decisions, and NO ONE can stand in my way. This is full bore ahead, buckle up kids, we’re going on the fastest ride of your life, not responsible for the loss of personal items. And I do know a lot of people now. I have rebuilt a life to order, exactly the way I wanted it. Okay, mostly the way I wanted it. No private island or Cessna yet, but hey, gimme some more time, and…
While my mind is taking its little detour down Memory Lane, my friend is staring at me, puzzled, head cocked like a confused pug waiting for me to respond. My brain finally re-engages with the now.
I smile. “Ha! I guess I do know a lot of people!” and carry on, hugging and chatting with the friends I have made in my new life.
Some Dudes are out tonight, ever prowling. They… are mostly where I left them, always pushing that mental wheelbarrow to see if they can convince the cute blonde at the bar to get in and consummate their bogus dead-end ride. I stand as straight and tall as I can. I will no longer crumple this form to fit the confines of a barrow. The Dudes have been relocated to the friendzone for me, no longer a threat. It takes two to tango in the Dudegame, and I left that dance floor a while back. Monica’s Smoking Hot Dance Party is much more fun, and I don’t care what anyone thinks as I jump on the tables at MY party.
But about the Dudes tonight…The passage of time is showing its wear. Some have given up the wheelbarrow, and finally settled down with a significant other. Is she trapped like I was? I hope not, but that’s not my business. No longer my circus, and I’m definitely not feeding those monkeys. I’m still friends with a few, those who genuinely did bring something other than the offer of their nice warm bed to the table. I have known absolutely wonderful men all along with whom I have deep, caring platonic relationships, and whom I would take a bullet for in an instant. I value them, and my girlfriends, so much more now that I can see clearly. Romantic relationships often end, friendships are much more likely to endure, Golden Girls living out their days in joyful single hilarity until the credits roll.
Or at least that’s how it should be. I have seen women blow off their steadfastly loyal friends the minute a hot new flavor of the day breezes into town, there to fill every waking hour. They vanish, committed 24/7 to whatever it is Prince Charming has in mind, tossed about on the fickle winds of infatuation. Then, when the new-car smell wears off and Prince Charming turns out to be Chester Nutbag, faithful friends having long been abandoned, they are left lonely and scrambling for anyone who will still talk to them and hold their now empty hand through the crisis. It’s not a fun place to be, and illustrates the importance of keeping your non-romantic relationships well fed and burped.
The friend I’m with tonight was my best friend after high school. I had lost contact when she left for college, only to discover decades later she lives less than an hour away from my place in Big Suburb. We are like two reunited otters, and it seems like less than a minute passed since she was sitting with me at the Perkins on campus and stealing all my fries. She’s right, in a way, though. I guess I didn’t really realize the number of people I had connected with here in Big Suburb.
I’m an off-the-charts extrovert who learned early on to treat others like they are the most important person in the world, and I do believe that treating people really, really well is not only the right thing to do, but creates connection. Much of loneliness happens because of selfishness. Obsession with your own life, your own drama, your own self, drives people away. Shoot me, but it’s true. If you are busy helping others, helping them feel good about themselves, helping them with at least something, you will naturally connect, you will volunteer, you will be the first to make the phone call, you will reach out, and touch, and encourage, and it will be returned to you, yes it will!
Those determined to help others are rarely lonely, as there is never a lack of people who welcome a kind word or a helping hand. And it may seem odd that I’m talking about others in a book that is all about finding myself, but you can’t really care for others if you haven’t learned to love yourself first. The cute brunette Southwest flight attendant droning the same repeated words down the aisle is right, you can’t put the little yellow oxygen mask on someone else if you can’t breathe. It all starts with loving yourself and getting yourself in the position where you have something to give. When you truly love and care about yourself, and when you own your own life, it naturally spills out onto those around you. I feel abundant, I feel loved. Where can I dump all this extra love? This is what it feels like to own your life and to love yourself. It naturally flows to others, and benefits everyone around when you are your best self. And, yes, it’s magnetic, and you won’t find yourself alone, and if you do, you won’t mind, because YOU are fucking awesome. Yayy, a night with me! I’m amazing! Not kidding, this is my life now. And I just want to share the love.
When I wind up alone and unhappy now, I view it as the Universe’s way of telling me there’s something I need to work on in myself. Why am I feeling down? What can I evaluate in me to make my life better? Am I taking good care of my body, my mind, my spirit, my life? What can I change to improve things? There is always life maintenance to be done, and then return to others even better. I am aspiring to be a Value Added person; if I am in your life, I will actively be adding value to it. If I am asking about your kids, I genuinely do care and want to hear how they are doing. I love people and I care about people. What I hadn’t learned before is that this is a treasure to be lavished on the good people of the world, not dumped into the bottomless pit of vampires who suck the life out of you or wasted on players who just want to take advantage of a good heart and see how many home-cooked meals you will make for them before you crack.
My big lesson was that I needed to protect myself. But now I’m residing in an iron-gated fortress with a moat full of crocodiles. I’m reveling in my own secret garden, and I only allow in value-added people, those who return the love I pour out. I add value to their lives, and they add value to mine. It’s a great way to live.
Life returns to you what you give, and I have … to make a phone call.
The next morning I hit the number: Ring, ring, ring. A man’s voice… “hello?”
“This is Monica…” my standard greeting.
Uh oh.
But wait, no. Before you get worried, this isn’t a Dude I’m calling. This is my life coach.
“Awesome! What can I do for you?”
“Well… Remember when you asked if I could be happy the rest of my life even if I knew I would never have a significant other?”
“…yes?…”
“You know what? My life is really full now. I have to thank you for your role in this, but I have my business, my book I’m working on, the bands I’m in, the friends I’ve made… I have my life back. I own my life now, and I really love myself and feel great. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, actually happier than most of the people I meet. And… I… think I would be just fine if I lived the rest of my life having never met a significant other. “
And even as I say the words, the final piece falls into place. I am a whole person, I can feel it. The jigsaw is complete, and I can see the picture clearly, right down to every last piece in the blue sky that took forever to put together, oddly shaped pieces all the same identical frustrating shade. But I finally got it. I feel settled, and peaceful.
Everywhere I walk, I envision the positive energy radiating off of me into other’s lives, like a wake from a massive speedboat sending everyone else on the water bouncing on bumps of spreading joy. You can believe in positive energy as a spreading force, or not, but I challenge you to spend an afternoon with me and not feel buoyed by the positive energy. It’s contagious.
I have journeyed a long time by myself. I have changed… I am finally the woman who met me in that meadow long ago, when I was scrunched into a wheelbarrow I had no business being in. I have become her, the person I had wanted to be, the person I always knew resided within me, but didn’t know how to access. And every day I become more of this goddess-lady, more immune to the criticisms, more surrounded by amazing people whom I love and support and who love and support me in return. I am real, I am whole, I am Monica.
And I am ready to kick ass.
*if you have no idea who the Woman in the Field is, please go back and review chapters 79 and 80. Clue: I have become the woman from that chapter. No, silly, not the one in the wheelbarrow, the other one. You’re welcome.
Worship Leader Gone Wild 