I'm 46, I help run a business and I'm a parent. Society at large kind of expects me to be strong and look like a know what I'm doing.
No one really knows what they're doing of course, they just get better at dealing with it.
The strong thing though, I think more of us should be able to take a break from having to man-up all the time and admit when they need a hand, or are just having a bad day.
The British stiff upper lip is bullshit. It should be okay to vulnerable and talk about how you feel.
So I'm just going to say it. I spend a lot of time alone these days and this is mostly okay, in fact mostly really good, but every now and then, this year, I get lonely.
Much of this is because in 2021, despite spending much of my life fighting the clock, my timing has been terrible.
Years of daily struggles in a cold pool, doing repetitions against the merciless timer. The slower you go, the less rest to get before the next rep.
Weeks and months mapped out, building form to coincide with the big races of the year.
Then a career in agencies fighting deadlines, doing your best work within increasingly less time.
I should be a master of timing, yet the fact remains that in the year of lockdown I became single after years of marriage
Of course, helping run a business in a global crisis is a challenge and I'm happy to confess it's scary at times. I wish more would, I know I'm not alone in that sense.
I am in others.
Now I share the kids, I don't see then everyday.
Now I'm one, not part of a two, I am alone so for large amounts of the week, and have been during various restrictions on seeing other people.
For a while, you couldn't really see anyone face to face, then, thankfully, we could actually see real people.
But the most of the usual interactions we have taken for granted were largely removed.
And for those of us who are alone in middle age, many of our friends don't have the time even in normal circumstances.
Yes, single people in their forties are alone. A lot.
Don't get me wrong, I'm an introvert. I'm good at being solitude.
I can happily spend hours on a bicycle with nothing but the hum of the the wheel hubs, the ache in my legs and my own thoughts.
I can swim in lake, or a pool and get lost in the ache in my shoulders and buzz of doing what I think I was really made to do.
I can still get lost in my work, when I'm on a roll and a brief starts writing itself.
There's the never ending book pile, the untouched playlists.
I can potter over cooking for myself, eating what the hell I like.
But I still love being around people. I'm lucky to have the kind of close, good friends, who ignored zoom fatigue, for virtual chats when we were properly locked down.
I sat in people's gardens and eventually their houses.
I have a couple of couple of 'husbands' in my village who are always there.
I have close family, even I we live far apart.
I know I'm lucky. Many people are less fortunate.
I'm also choosing to crack on with living without compromise and discover all sorts of stuff about me, who I am, what I'm capable of and what I want. Little really gets me down, I'm moving forward, struggling at times, making mistakes but enjoying the battle.
In fact, to be more specific, its LITTLE that does sometimes cast a shadow.
It's small, mostly rare moments that, in a world of mostly great, suddenly make you feel less alone but doing great - more a little lonely.
It can be a full day of working from home and realising that apart from the morning agency WIP call, you haven't said a word out loud.
It can be a watching something on telly that makes you laugh out loud and realise you're laughing alone.
It can be wandering around a supermarket watching a couple argue and simultaneously feeling thankful you're not arguing over a shopping list and wishing you had someone to bicker with.
It's uncool to admit to be flailing sometimes, but the British Reserve is just crap. I for one, want to be less British and more human.
The most recent little thing, was wonderful yet laced with sorrow.
It was little boy, after a brilliant day together, who came in for a spontaneous cuddle and whispered, "I miss you Daddy".
Comments