Why “Single” Is No Longer a Dirty Word
“It would be impossible for me to count the number of hours I have wasted punishing myself for being alone, yet I barely stop to notice the positives it brings …”
Words: Melanie Austin
Picture the scene: a 32 year old woman in sweats, with messy hair and not a lick of mascara to be seen. Unlike its predecessors, this was the year for the dress-down soiree—or New Year’s Eve in Tier 4 to be precise. Big Ben had chimed, Jools Holland had delighted my ears with his Annual Hootenanny and there I was contemplating going to bed—after all, resolution number one was to go bed earlier! Yet in an all-too-predictable move, the fear of an opportunity wasted saw me break that rule less than two hours in—it was a desperate attempt to pretend that I wasn’t just sat at home in lockdown. Remote in hand, I needed something worthy of a celebration, or at the bare minimum, something other than the next episode of whatever show I’d watched over breakfast. So I scrolled away, bypassing the usual mix of late-night documentaries and replays until I stumbled upon Dawn French’s one-woman show: 30 Million Minutes. I hadn’t heard of it despite it being four years old but it fitted the bill for something different and it was almost over, so win-win—or not quite. Something she said struck a chord with me:
“[…]well the only certain thing I knew was that I needed to be exactly that—single. See if I could do it all on my own.”
That was it. Those were the words. No inspirational quote, no great revelation, just two simple sentences that got me thinking. Fast forward fifteen minutes and I was typing away like a woman possessed. Something about the timing of her words plus a year’s worth of pent-up frustration and there I was, having a full-blown epiphany at 2 am. The negative voice in me would hush it away citing a gin-spiked high, but there was more to it than that. A part of me that I had rarely given time to before suddenly had the floor; a part of me that I’d pushed deep down inside was furiously bubbling to the surface. It was something positive and with that, chaos-inducing.
“Society may tell us that we are weaker alone but it is by being alone that I have found a different kind of strength.”
Well of course I couldn’t just go to sleep after that; the little light in my brain had been switched on and I was scrambling to make sense of everything I was feeling. A classic tale of a brain at war with itself. One side was armed with a theory grand enough to shake the foundation on which it was built; the other side was digging its heels in, refusing to accept that there might be something positive to say about the person who housed it. Typical insecurity: with every suggestion of worth comes an inward battle—exhausting, to say the least. Fortunately, every now and then something slips through the net, silencing the demons just long enough for a person to re-evaluate. That night, as we welcomed in a new year, Dawn French’s words sparked a revolution in me, taking the word “single” and turning it on its head—for what if single wasn’t a dirty word after all? What if being single was the very thing we needed to harness our power—to fight our demons?
If I was being completely honest then I would say that love hasn’t been kind to me. It has actually been quite cruel at times, although probably not as cruel as I’ve been to myself over the years. For a long time I have viewed my status as a singleton as evidence that there must be something wrong with me; after all, everyone else seems to be able to find love so why not me? Obviously, that is an overgeneralisation, but the mind likes to work in black and white sometimes. I was often ignoring the fact that I was dating the wrong guys to feed my own self-loathing because I was too insecure to see anything but my failings. Roll on into my late 20s, early 30s and the cruelty increased: “I am not a wife or a mother—so what am I?” and “You’re clearly not trying hard enough.” These were the words I told myself repeatedly; I didn’t even need society’s judgment at this point because I had passed judgement on myself a long time ago. “Single” became an insult I would use to punish myself, packaged up as something to be ashamed of. What I didn’t realise was that I was shutting myself off from this giant source of power right inside of me, hundreds of achievements all lined up desperately waiting to be acknowledged.
Society feeds us line upon line about how two is better than one, how all directions and plans lead to a happier future when you’re safe in a partnership. Now don’t get me wrong, I do dream of one day saying I do to the man of my dreams, scooping my children up into my arms and relaxing into family life, but the truth of the matter is that I have let that concept dominate me for so long—for too long…I have been in a relationship with myself for 32 years yet never paid it the attention it needed. There are so many things that I have achieved alone, learnt alone and fought against alone and that’s amazing—that deserves to be seen not by the world, but by me.
Take a second and think back on some of your achievements: which ones carried more weight? Which ones allowed for a tick in society’s ‘must do’ checklist? And which ones did you play down as insignificant because you experienced them alone? Dawn French talked of being single, of being truly single—reaching a point where you can stand on your own two feet and exclaim “I can do this. I am everything I need at this moment.” Imagine the position we would be in if we believed we were enough on our own before we even started to look for another to complete us. Think about how much sweeter a partnership would then be without all the second-guessing—without pausing to speak because we believe we aren’t good enough until someone else tells us we are. Companionship is a beautiful thing, but what if we spent more time empowering people to be self-sufficient so they didn’t feel empty without the love of another?
It would be impossible for me to count the number of hours I have wasted punishing myself for being alone—drowning in the negatives—yet I barely stop to notice the positives it brings. At 25 I boarded my first long-haul flight, flew halfway around the world to Indonesia, navigated Jakarta at midnight in the scariest taxi ride I’ve yet to face and I did it all on my own. In fact, I would come to love travelling solo, finding freedom in my ability to see the world and forge new relationships without another holding my hand. Building my confidence each time as I learnt how to talk to strangers, to negotiate logistics, finances and multiple languages. I decided that I wasn’t going to wait for someone else before I started to live; I went out there and showed myself that I already had all the tools that I needed. Imagine if I had travelled with someone else: I may have questioned whether people spoke with us because of my partner, not me. I may have taken a back seat and never really known if I was capable of doing it for myself. But that’s a notable example. How about all the times I sat in a coffee shop alone, went to a concert alone, moved house alone? I found comfort in my own company and looked fear in the face the day I showed up for myself. Society may tell us that we are weaker alone but it is by being alone that I have found a different kind of strength.
“By allowing companionship to complement, but never complete us, we stand more chance of building the necessary resilience should loneliness come knocking.”
The past year has taught us that one day there may come a time when we will be forced to operate solo, regardless of what we do, whether that is in love or life. Some days that knowledge scares me; some days it ignites the fighter in me, reminding me to find peace in my own company so I am better equipped to deal with whatever life may bring. The same goes for relationships: by allowing companionship to complement, but never complete us, we stand more chance of building the necessary resilience should loneliness come knocking. This isn’t to say that I live by this rule every-day; self-soothing my mind is a constant lesson—one which isn’t immune to the pangs of loneliness.
I shall leave you with this…Get to know and love yourself; it will be the greatest thing you do”
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Thank you so much to the brilliant Melanie for contributing this incredibly vulnerable and empowering piece- we hope you loved reading it as much as we did! To see more from Melanie you can find her on Instagram at @melaniejaustin.