Don't Judge Me Because I'm Single
3 Sept. 2020
Don’t judge me because I’m single. Married people have no idea how hard life is Single. Maybe they had a taste of it before marriage. But it is very different.
I did. I felt ready to marry at the age of sixteen. By the age of nineteen, I decided that I must be destined to be an old maid because I had not only no one to marry, but I had never even had a boyfriend. The only date I ever had was set up by my mother for my 18thbirthday. What was wrong with me??? Why did nobody want me?
Fact is, other than Church, I had never really been outside my home. My parents believed that the female role was based in the home. They also believed that it was the Father’s responsibility to protect and provide for and preside over his daughters until he handed them over to the care of their husband. Which is all well and good, except, I did not have a life outside my home. How was I ever supposed to get a husband?
I was not even allowed to get a job outside the home. I was the eldest daughter and did most of the cooking and cleaning in my home. My younger sister, just a year and a half younger than me, had already run away from home. Of course, she was now pregnant and unmarried and unhappy.
When I was nineteen years old, a friend of my parents asked my parents if they could take me with their family to go out to Utah for a Youth for America Conference that their family was going to attend. We were living in Missouri at the time, so it would be a two- or three-day drive for them. Then the conference was almost a week long. And they wanted me to come and work for them for a week before we left in order to earn my way. So, I would be gone from home nearly a month. My parents had to think about it.
Finally, they decided that I could go. No, I wasn’t mentally handicapped. I just always tried to do what was right, honor my parents, and please God. But yes, I did think it was odd that I was nineteen years old and waiting for my parents to decide whether I could go or not.
The conference was exciting and a lot of fun. It was geared toward training young Statesmen, youth who are learning to understand eternal principles of government, Constitutional law, and citizenship responsibilities, etc. I thoroughly enjoyed it. On the last day of the conference, I had an overwhelming feeling that I should stay and become a part of this great organization. I promptly left the testimony meeting in order to talk to the kitchen staff to find out if there might be any work for me to do to be able to stay and help with the next conference.
The conferences were being held, several in a row, all Summer long. The girl in the kitchen had just turned me down when, before I could even leave the room, another girl came in and apologized that she would not be able to work next week. I stopped in my tracks and crossed my fingers. The girl who had just refused me, then turned to me to tell me that I had a job.
I was so thrilled and excited, yet nervous to have to call my parents and tell them that I would not be coming home. But, I did it and stayed on for the last conferences of the Summer. When the last conference was coming to an end, I then had to figure out what I was going to do next. My ride home had left weeks ago. I was states away from home and didn’t know anyone there well, except the girls I had been working with the past few days.
Luckily, my grandmother had recently moved to Arizona and there was a family at the last conference from Arizona who had room enough to give me a ride down to my grandmother’s house in Phoenix.
I stayed with my grandmother a couple months, but I was anxious to get back up to Southern Utah for the brand new Statesman school that would be opening right there where the conferences had been held. It would be called George Wythe University. I had talked to some of the leaders at the conference before I left, about coming back up to the school. I didn’t have any money, but I was trying to work a deal with them to let me work at the school in trade for studies. They said that they would work on it and let me know.
The school started in September. Every few days after the school started, I called up there to ask if they had made arrangements for me to be able to come up yet. Finally, after what seemed like forever and was actually about three weeks of phone calls, they agreed to let me come up and then they would work things out with me.
When I worked in the kitchen during the Summer conferences, I was under the impression that I was a volunteer. Much to my surprise, when I left for my grandmother’s, they actually handed me a couple hundred dollars for my work. So, I still had this cash when it was time to go back up to Duck Creek, Utah. When I had left home that Summer for the conference, I had only brought with me about a week’s worth of summer clothes. Now, I would be going back up to the mountains in the Fall.
My grandmother took me to the Goodwill store to find a couple sweaters, pants and closed toed shoes. The rest of the money I had to give to her to drive me to Utah. She did not have to go too far out of her way, because she had already been planning a trip to Oregon to visit my Aunt. So, everything worked out beautifully. Except for being dropped off at school penniless. But I wasn’t afraid. I had complete trust in God and excitement for the adventure.
They put me to work in the kitchen again. I was too busy to attend classes, but they loaned me the same instruction manuals and books the other students were studying and I would study at night and in-between work.
One day, a handsome young man walked into the dining room, where I was studying, to give one of the students a blessing who was feeling poorly. He looked older than most the other students, so I wondered who he was married to. There were a handful of married students there, as well as single students.
It didn’t take long to learn more about this young man, who ended up being single, because he was the most popular young man there at the school. In fact, he had girls lined up to fill out his dating application. Every time I saw him he had some girl on his knee or several girls surrounding him. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I must have caught his attention. He began visiting with me and trying to get to know me. But I was not very good at opening up. I was usually quite busy in the kitchen. I was the only cook and dishwasher for the entire school. But then, it was a very small private school. Maybe only a couple dozen students. Perhaps a little more.
Even with all the other girls still vying for his attention, he began to spend more and more time on me. Of course, he continued to date and flirt with all the other girls as well. Until one day, without ever even taking me on a single, actual date, he announced to his family, “When we get married ...” He hadn’t even asked me to marry him. Everybody in the room laughed at the shock on my face. But by that time, he knew that I wanted to marry him.
He was my first kiss, my first “boyfriend”, and soon to be my first husband (or possibly only husband).
We had a pretty good run. We were married twenty-five years when he suddenly passed away. He turned forty-eight on December 14, 2017. We had our twenty-fifth anniversary on December 28th, 2017. Then he passed away from a brain tumor hemorrhage, January 5th, 2018.
It was quite a shock. Nobody had any idea. I think that I lived in shock the first two years after his death. I was completely numb to life. I simply went through the motions like a zombie. I tried to keep a smile for the children, but it was empty. We had ten children at the time, but only seven left at home. The youngest was just a year and a half.
One thing that really surprised me after my husband passed away was how much of my own confidence disappeared. I always felt pretty strong and independent. After my husband died though, it was as if all the wind had gone out of my sails. You know the song, “The Wind Beneath My Wings”? It never really meant much to me until my husband died and suddenly I felt that the wind beneath my wings was also gone. I was a flightless bird who couldn’t get off the ground. I was helpless, powerless, lost and so very alone. I had no educational skills or work skills to fall back on. Besides the short time working in the kitchen at the school, I had only ever served/worked in my home. I was not gifted with any particular talents. I was truly lost.
I was not looking for anyone to replace him though. I was almost offended when a friend invited me to a Stake Singles activity. I did not feel single. I was still married, my spouse was just dead, invisible, temporarily out of reach. I even had another friend propose marriage to me and I think I gave him some speech about eternal marriage that kept him from ever coming back. Poor guy!
It wasn’t until one particular very special man became my friend that I began to fall in love again. I have always been rather picky about guys I was interested in. Which is most likely a big reason why I never really dated. I guess I must have been a huge snob or something. I never felt like a snob. I loved everyone and tried to be kind and friendly to everyone. But there were actually a handful of guys that wanted to take me out and I always made up some excuse because I just was not interested in them, in that way. I was very particular about what I wanted. But when I found what I wanted, I went for it wholeheartedly. That was my first husband. And then, two and a half years later, there was one more very special guy. We dated several times and life was beautiful again. I came alive again. It was like I had been living in black and white the past couple years and now all the sudden, there was color everywhere. Everything was flowers and rainbows. I was so very happy.
The first time I caught myself smiling, I thought my face was going to crack and I actually slapped my hand over my mouth. I had to consciously tell myself that it was okay to smile again and be happy again. After that, I couldn’t stop smiling. All my family and friends could see the huge change that had come over me and it was no secret that I was “in love” and extremely happy.
Until one day, things started to change. He began acting differently. He called me less and less and texted less and less. He still acted fine when I was actually with him, but something was very different. He blamed it on stresses at work. I prayed hard for him. I fasted and prayed often for him. We got together less and less. He didn’t have time for me. Then one day, I got an angry text that told me that we were done.
I was crushed. I was so confused. I didn’t even understand what had just happened. I gave him some time and then tried to contact him again. He had completely blocked me from his phone, his Facebook, his email, everything. What in the world had I done? He wouldn’t even talk to me to explain anything.
I felt a dagger had been placed in my heart. I seriously felt I was dying. I was so done with “this stupid life.” I prayed for guidance and direction. What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to move on and heal or try to find out the truth or somehow fight for him and not give up on him??? I was completely lost and broken.
He had been married a couple times before. He had often complained to me about how terrible his other wives were. His last wife he had described as being especially awful to him. He told me straight out that he would never go back to her. “That ship has sailed,” he said. Come to find out, he did go back to her, the very one he said he was afraid of and despised the most.
She didn’t love him. She told me that herself. She treated him like a footstool, there for her own will and pleasure. She would belittle him and degrade his self-worth. I treated him like a king. That’s what he was to me. He deserved so much better than she gave him. Even with his faults, I could see his worth and potential. Yet, he went back to her. I, to this day, do not understand it.
His ex-wife later told me that he did not want to have to be a father to my children. He had already raised his kids and wanted something different now. He had wanted out of our relationship for a while, but didn’t want to hurt my feelings, so he dragged it out without telling me that he was done.
He always had expensive tastes. He liked to pretend that he was rich. He was always spending money that he didn’t have and then getting into trouble. She had bailed him out many times. She told me that she would never pay another bill for him. But I don’t know if it is true or if he knew that. Maybe she had given in to him so many times, he figured he could get her to do it again. And maybe he does.
For weeks I held my breath waiting to find out if he was going to turn out to be Willoughby from Sense and Sensibility or, “The elusive Mr. F.” Looks like he was Willoughby.
He must have lied when he told me that he loved me and cared about me. He lied to me in so many ways, so many times. Even up to the very end, just before the break up, he continued to lie to me and tell me things he knew I loved to hear. All the while, come to find out later, he had already been with his ex-wife and trying to make things up with her.
I do not understand why he couldn’t have just come right out and told me the truth in the first place. I guess I will never understand. Some people just don’t practice being honest in their youth and the lies become a habit. They seem to even lie when the truth would have been easier.
Unfortunately, I don’t hate him. Alright, fortunately, I don’t hate him. It would only hurt me worse than him. And I have suffered enough by him. I loved him. And I don’t give that away freely to just anybody. I mean, I love everybody, but not like that.
Why do we not have separate words yet for romantic love and Christlike love, and family love, etc. Love is such a generic term. So sad. Because they are all such different emotions and feelings and needs.
I feel like love is something we are born needing, much like air and nourishment. I feel like love is essential for each and every one of us. We all long to love and be loved. But there are definitely, many different kinds of "Love."
First, I had a Christlike love for him which was mingled with attraction, big time attraction, which set it apart from other people I loved generically. And then, I developed a deep, romantic love and connection to him. Which I thought he was feeling too. Sadly, his love of money and a wealthy lifestyle, which this particular ex-wife could provide for him, turned out to be stronger than his whatever kind of love he had for me. Not that I am a fair judge, because I really don’t understand it all. I can only guess by what seems apparent to me.
I’m sure that there was more to the story, which I will probably never come to know. I think that he felt guilt for things he thought that I was not aware of and would not understand. He has no idea what I could have understood and helped him with. He never gave me a chance. He was never completely open and honest with me. I loved my first husband through things most women leave their husbands for. I loved him because I saw more in him than he did. I saw what he could be. And I never stopped encouraging him and helping him all I could. I put up with more than my fair share of heartache and pain, but I was working on an eternal soul, not just a lifetime being.
I don’t have the means to pay his debts and provide a luxurious lifestyle for him or anyone else. But if he could have broken free of the things of this world, he could have had true peace and happiness. He could have been storing up treasures in Heaven, instead of that which moth and rust doth corrupt and thieves break through and steal (Matt. 6:19-20). And he is such a good man. I think in time, he would have chosen the higher road, if lead correctly, with love, gentleness, and patience.
The problem is, I still care and worry about him. I still want the best for him. I still love him. But maybe now, it is more like concern for the eternal welfare of a child or dear friend. I will continue to pray for him.
So, where do I go from here? The hardest part is, it was easier when I was numb. Now that he has awakened in me a yearning for love again, the loneliness is harsh and cruel beyond description. I only felt alive when I was giving and receiving love. Now that my lover has been taken away once again, I am left with a serious longing that I cannot extinguish or put back to sleep. Why is that?
Being single before marriage was the hardest part of my life. It was the worst, not knowing if I would ever even find love and marriage. This helped me to stay married through many struggles with my husband. When we had a bad disagreement or something, I would remember how much more awful it was without him, before him, and this would help me to stay determined to work things out every time. The loneliness helped me to be ever so grateful for him.
But loneliness before marriage and loneliness after marriage are two separate animals.
My husband and I had always had a great faith and trust in Heavenly Father. We also had a great love for each other, most of the time. Life was hard, plenty hard, but when things got extremely difficult, we would laugh and pray and wonder how God was going to get us through this one this time. And then, we would make love. This was our recipe for success I guess. It got us through everything. We were an unstoppable team with this formula, because it always worked. We were a very happy couple and a very happy family. There wasn’t anything we couldn’t face together with this formula. Which is also how we got ten children. But we knew that God wanted us to have a large family, even though we couldn’t afford them. We knew that He would somehow provide. It wasn’t always as we would have liked for things to be, but there was no denying God’s miracles in our lives. He was truly always there for us, blessing us day by day.
When my husband passed away, it was like my physical need for intimacy had also passed away. All I could think about was looking forward to being with him again in the eternities someday. I was not looking for love. I was not looking for a new husband. There were days when I was very lonely, yes. I missed so much in not having a companion. I had no one to speak Adult with. No one to share things with. No one to listen to my complaints or care. No one to relax with. No one to bounce politics off of. No one to give my love to, other than messy children. So yes, I was lonely, but it was a dull pain.
When I fell in love again, it was not planned. It was quite unexpected. He was so charming and magnetic to my soul. Even with him being seventeen years older than me (I am 47 and he is 64), I only saw pure beauty when I looked at him. I saw so much goodness and potential in him. I saw a blissful life with him. He made me so very happy. Even more happy than I have ever been. He said nicer things to me than I have ever heard. He complimented things about me that my husband complained about. But, I guess it was easy when it was all lies. At least my husband was honest.
It was so much fun kissing again. I was having the time of my life. Only to have it so abruptly cut short. Will this longing and aching ever end? I guess it will, eventually. Oh, Why did he have to come into my life? What has this trial done for me? What am I supposed to learn from this experience? How do I go back to being numb, without pain, without longing, without suffering? And do I want to go back to being numb? Do I want to go back to being a zombie or just going through the motions? No, now I want a companion!
It was too good having a friend again. I can’t go back. I want a companion, a husband, a helpmate, a lover. What in the world am I going to do now?
Since the ex-wife he went back to, told me that she only wanted him to keep her company because she was old and all alone; she told me that she would not sleep with him; I actually considered making a proposition to him that we could just use each other for physical intimacy from time to time. Of course, I am half joking. I have worked too hard, too long to try to please God and make it to heaven to just throw it all away at the very end. But boy, it is tempting. I miss him so much. And not just any Joe Smoe will do. I am not THAT desperate. He was very special to me. He made me feel more beautiful and loved than I have ever been. But again, I guess it is easy when it is all just lies. Why did he have to be too good to be true???
I suppose this too shall pass. But, how long will it take? How long will I have to be lonely? Will I ever find someone to love me again? I am getting so old. Things are only going to go more and more downhill from here. It’s one thing to start young together and then grow old together. But who wants to jump in bed with an old person they have never known young? Especially men! Men are all about visual. Girls are more about heart and emotions and that can come from any shape or form. Am I doomed to grow old alone? Am I doomed to this awful state of misery for another forty years? That would make my life only just over half way through. And that was a super long life already. It would surely kill me to imagine such another long time alone. I suppose this is why everyone says we have to take things, “One Day at a Time.”
I saw an elderly widow at church the other day and I burst into tears. I don’t know how long she has been a widow and alone, but the thought was too much for me to handle.
I have begged the universe more times than I can count to bring him back to me. I have prayed that God would make him miss me and come back to me. But I always end with, “Thy will be done.” Which I guess it is. Because he hasn’t returned. Not that God wants me to suffer like this. He will not take away our free agency and choice. This was not God’s doing. Why can’t He fix it though? Just kidding. I would never want someone who was forced to be with me. That would be no fun.
And I cannot deny that God has been helping me to heal. He has been so good to me and so patient with me. He has definitely done what he could to send me comfort. I’ve got to stop wallowing in my pity. It’s over and done and there is nothing that I can do about it. As much as I felt I loved him and would have been so very good to him and good for him, as much as I miss him and want him, none of those things will bring him back. He is free to choose, even if it means he is choosing someone who does not love and appreciate him or treat him well. Wait a minute, someone he told me that he did not love either. Perhaps they are made for each other after all. I cannot take his choice away from him or force him to do what I think is best for him. Sad as it is, life is about choice and consequence.
My choice now is to either wallow in pain and suffering or get up, dust off and keep going, the best I can. My choice now is become bitter and grumpy or heal and stay focused on being Christlike. My choice now is to consume myself with thoughts of him and longing or gratitude for God’s blessings. My choice now is what I choose to learn from this experience.
My four-year-old son took the dagger from my heart. One day while I was curled up like a ball on my bed weeping, begging the universe to bring my lover back to me and trying to make sense of it all, my sweet, innocent little boy came into my bedroom and asked me if I was sick. I told him that I was. He ran out to get me a drink of water and came back spilling it all over my room and very lovingly handing it to me, he told me that he would take care of me.
I just can’t give up. I still have young ones depending on me. I must live for them. They deserve more than a lifeless zombie mother. They deserve the best life I can give them. As Gordon B. Hinckley’s father once told him, “Forget yourself and get to work.” I need to nail that to my wall.
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