From an 'old maid': manless, childless, a spinster

And lovin' every minute of it...

I will turn forty this coming July. I am divorced. I am single. I am childless.

Though I am educated and a professional, a professor, and an adamant feminist, this status has shaken me in recent months a helluva lot more than I would have liked to admit.

After all, dearest Beauvior reminds us how we women are bombarded with those ever pervasive messages since before we have memories—that a woman’s worth is solely defined both by her outward appearance and approximation to her relationships to others, like a man, but especially in relationships to others, like her kids. Hence, we are the subject, the other, not the object or the main one, a full person in our own right.

Thank you, patriarchy.

I know all of this in theory.

And from my youngest years, I recall my mother trying to build up my self esteem and self worth so that I would believe in myself, and not live a life that was in any way similar to hers, starting with owning my own worth.

The problem with that was that I saw my mother live her life that was near opposite of what she told me to do. (‘Do as I say, not as I do’ is just rarely effective in parenting, especially with a mother that I admired as much as I did my mother…and given how close as we were.)

I do recall once my mother remarking how girlfriend’s daughter, who was single and childless in her mid-thirties was lucky. Even though this daughter complained about her status, that she didn’t realize just how lucky she had it.

Later in life, after my father passed, and after her own death, I realize that my mother simply did not know how to live alone. She did not, could not, live for herself. This was part of the reason I believe that she stayed with my father.

After her kids were gone, she struggled immensely with her purpose and what to do with herself. And when my father took his own life, there was a part of me that hoped—after a period of grieving—that she would finally be free to live for herself.

She couldn’t. She envied her girlfriend’s daughter, but even when presented to her, she was at a loss of how to exist if she didn’t exist for someone else.

I realize that I picked up this message on what it means to be a woman.

I married young. I prioritize caring for my friends and for others. I went into teaching, a nurturing profession. I mother others. I stayed too long in relationships with wounded people, with people who were not good for me, people who hurt me. For many reasons, but I think also because at least—at least—I was affirmed and validated because I had people, I had relationships.

In ending my relationship this fall, I mourned the loss and the betrayal, and I had a bit of an existential crisis. I am so much better off, I know, to be single than with him, but it also came with some lessons that I have had to take into 2023.

I am committed to my path of self-growth and self-love, one where I believe that I am worth it and that I should/can live for myself. And one where I do that.

It is strange. It has been hard at points; sometimes it still feels disorienting because it’s so unfamiliar.

But I also realize something within the last few weeks after the grief has lifted—

I actually like it. Being alone.

I enjoy pampering myself and spending money on me and prioritizing whatever I want to do. I am taking all of this nurturing, caring, compassionate love that I have poured out into others and I am allowing myself a good healthy helping of that piece of the pie too.

I used to be panicked as the big 4-0 approached because of all that it symbolized as a childless woman. I had mixed feelings about wanting to have my own biological children, but I mostly struggled that that choice would be taken away from me because of my age.

I was no longer just dipping a toe but diving head-first into that geriatric pregnancy age range, that one where you really ought not to get pregnant at this age.

I have spent many moments angry that men do not face this cultural and bodily urgency to hurry up and have kiddos, that even if you don’t know if you want them, that your body can scream at you simply because this time span of being to procreate is dwindling down.

I struggle with the lack of choice more than anything. I struggled with my ex’s insensitivity and lack of understanding to my own lost babies because he already had a daughter.

But now?

Now—as I look at my life, living abroad, all my travels, most recently to Cozumel, Mexico with another flight booked to India, I smile. I take it all in. My single status and all that it affords me. And I realize I really like my life.

I have a lot of adventures. I go out and explore. I eat a lot of really good food. (I drove back to Minnesota today and had the best Persian food at Caspian Grill in Minneapolis. Highly recommend.)

I read a lot of books. I write a lot of letters. I meet a lot of fascinating people and have insightful, enriching conversations about life that help me to think more deeply. I learn about other cultures.

All of this feeds me because I like to think. I like to learn.

I would not have this autonomy and these unhindered abilities if I were married, if I had children. I know that they also come with blessings in life and it is one that is not lesser but just very, very different from the one that I currently have.

I like my life. I like myself. I like the choices that I made to be here. I didn’t want this, but I am so glad I got it.

I am proud to be financially independent and solvent. To be a professor and hold a doctoral degree. To have a job where I have a lot of time off and where I enjoy my work.

I am proud to be an almost forty year old woman because I am much more confident in my own body and skin than I ever was before my eleven lines appeared.

I am proud to take up space in my body, in this life, as a woman that my mother would be proud of and in awe of.

Most importantly, however, I am proud because I realize now that I am a woman that I am proud of, partly because I am committed to always working at becoming a better version of myself and loving others and learning about this brutiful (thanks, Glennon Doyle) world and life.

I never envisioned to be single and childless at this age, but I am loving it. I finally enjoy my own company and I marvel in wonder and dive into deep curiosity at the world around me. And what my next adventures will be.

Being an ol’ spinster actually is a heck of a lot of fun.