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Living My Biggest Nightmare: 40 & Single!

Two years ago to the date, my boyfriend at the time dumped me.

It was a total full moon blood eclipse. In Virgo.

We woke up in my bed. Usual Bay Area March weather, it was cold and my bedroom was chilly. I was under the covers trying to keep warm. We had went to my friend’s boyfriend’s birthday dinner the night before and ate good food and cake. I thought we had a good time. It was a typical morning, we had woke up together - I had probably slept horribly and I was freezing. He was ready to smoke weed and ride out into the day.

Typical day - I had become used to this lifestyle. I was tired and had no energy most of the time. Well I was just starting to get some energy again as I had been learning about herbalism for a year and beginning to reconnect with this part of me enchanted by the plant and natural world. But in general, I was sleeping horribly every night and leaning on marijuana to help me sleep. Some nights I would wake up and be so rattled, I would smoke weed at 3am to help put me back to sleep. Worst of all, sometimes the marijuana did not even help. It was like groundhog day.

I had become used to waking up with him. He had a small dog that I loved who would often share the bed with us. I was used to us all waking up and sharing the mornings together. Used to him scrolling and smoking weed first thing in the day. Used to me feeling depleted and wondering where I was going to get a nap in. I was also used to the physical touch and the possibility of sex and cuddles in the mornings, laughing about whatever had happened that amused us, and being together.

He looked at me that morning and said, “I think we are becoming more friends than boyfriend and girlfriend”. I was shocked, confused, worried, and relieved. I asked him what he meant and he said things between us seemed less sexual and romantic (or something to that extent - it was 2 years ago!) and that he felt like we were just friends.

My couples therapist brain went on… I remembered trying to convince him that maybe that meant that our relationship was growing and that friendship was the hallmark feature of a solid relationship. He wasn’t convinced.

Deep inside of me there was a part of me that was relieved as fuck. In the past, I had wondered how I could get out of this relationship. He seemed to love me, I loved him, my mom really liked him, we were integrated into each others’ lives. He was (or seemed) to be the man I had prayed for. {More on that later} Plus I was 40 years old!! I did not have the same compact curvy body I had even 3 years before, my skin was not as firm…the biggest fear was what man would ever want a washed 40 year old woman???

So I did what most women learn to do, make it work. So I was trying to make it work with him. Let’s call him Jonas. I wanted so badly to make the relationship work so I would not have to do the thing that frightened me the most - be a single and childless 40 year old woman. Seemed like death sentence to me. I had met someone who seemed to love me and even love (or at least) tolerated my quirks - wasn’t that enough?

Well, the irony is that he was not willing to make it work. I suggested couples therapy or opening our relationship up - he was uninterested. I heard a quiet voice in me saying let go. My tendency is to work. If you have read Women Who Love too Much by Robin Norwood, I am a recovering woman who loves too much. If you have not read this book, that term refers to the fascinating (being sarcastic) phenomena of female children learning in their families of origin that they have to prove their lovability and work for love on some level and then take that pattern into their future romantic relationships. (Yea, I know…it’s the case for most of us and yet writing and reading that brings a heavy pit to my stomach)

So I let go.

March 8, 2023 I began to let go. I cried. I felt so much fear. Probably less fear of breaking up and more fear about the future and how I would have to start all over. Seriously it felt like a death sentence.

I did not tell many people - maybe no one at all. I told my therapist the next week. But I did not tell people because I felt so much shame. I felt shame that once again, I could not make a relationship work. It felt like I was wearing a scarlet letter - S - for single. And I feared everyone was looking at me and thinking:
” what a shame she can’t find a man”
” she needs to lose weight and then maybe a man will love her”
” she must be really crazy”
”what is wrong with her??”
”I am so glad I am not like her”

Exhaling as I write that because the truth is that this is what I thought about myself.

I thought a man’s love and desire to be in a relationship was a sign of my lovability. [Yes I am a therapist and I still have thoughts like this!]

This thought brought me right back to being a little girl whose father had opted out of parenting her. The shame and sadness of his absence being about her, when it was really about him. (Read that again)

I decided March 8 is a holiday for me. It’s my personal Independence Day that marks facing new levels of fear and liberating myself beyond what and how I thought my life was going to turn out.

Welcome to my Substack!
I start with this post to reclaim this day and to paint a portrait of where I was that helped to fuel this journey I have been on. This substack will be a journey of what I have learned (and continue to learn) navigating dating, sexual intimacy, and myself as a middle aged woman. It will get sexier - I promise!