In the week that I wrote about struggling in the cost of living crisis as a single person, two things happened that made me confront a side of being single that we rarely hear about.
For one, the act of writing about it made me realise I’d wrapped myself in a cotton wool ball of delusion, telling myself it was all fine when really it wasn’t. The true weight of the emotional load I’d been carrying around – paying bills, assessing future income, the tax bill due at the end of the year – came crashing down.
Then, there was the death knell of a romance that had been on and off since the end of last year, when I realised we had no future together.
The exhaustion of doing life by myself, combined with being back at square one in the love stakes, made me realise something else about being single: talking about how hard it is only feels possible with other single friends. That can become more isolating as you get older, since the majority of your friends are likely to be in a couple.
I’m not knocking single life; there is plenty to love about it. Having been married and in relationships, I know that for all the joy and fulfilment a romantic connection can bring, it also complicates life and doubles the number of problems.
Although being single can mean you’re paying more than your couple-up friends for basic costs, it also means I am the one in control of my finances, which is an important thing after having partners who lied about the amount of debt they were in. It means that I have the flexibility to spend my time as I wish. I can go on solo holidays when I can afford them, and I don’t have to run any decisions I make about my life past anyone.
The autonomy and freedom that being single brings is often wonderful. Because I don’t have children, it also means I get to invest my time in friends and family in a way I otherwise might not be able to.
But like any relationship – even the one you have with yourself – it’s not without its challenges. Aside from shouldering the mental and emotional burden of your life alone, there are problems of practicality. There is no set of circumstances more likely to make me miss having a partner than when I am ill or hungover.
Being able to open up about this is tough, however. There is often the belief among couples – particularly those with children – that being single is easy. In some ways it can be, but it isn’t all undisrupted sleep and endless amounts of free time. That may have been true in our early 20s, but for many of us those days are long gone.
Those of us who live on our own don’t have anyone to share the housework, admin, or waiting at home for repairmen. As a sole trader, if I get sick and can’t work, it’s not just that I don’t have someone to get me Lemsip; it knocks my finances and there is no one else to rely on.
Many of us who did the pandemic alone knew the truth about being single: for all its amazing points, when there is a crisis it can be the toughest, loneliest place to be. I still don’t think many of us have recovered from that time.
And conversely, the stigma of being single means there is a pressure to maintain the image that everything is always fine. Because if you admit to struggling, or feeling lonely, you may be leaving yourself vulnerable to someone suggesting finding a partner is the solution to your problems.
Most single folk – especially those who’ve been single for a significant period of time – have heard every iteration of enquiry about their single status, from “are you sure you aren’t being fussy” to “I’m sure you’ll meet someone amazing one day”.
While some of us do want a partner, we want the right person, not just a body to lie next to at night. For that, there are lumbar pillows.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what might help, particularly during the tough moments, and for me it involves considering your relationship with yourself as important as any other. That means investing time in checking in with yourself to see how you’re doing mentally.
Asking yourself questions about what you’re happy with, what makes you miserable, and what can you do to change it if so. If things feel overwhelming, it might mean needing to identify which of your loved-ones you can talk to about things – and that might only end up being one or two people. Since talking to my sister about how lonely certain things can be, particularly illness, she is a constant in my life who makes sure I feel supported.
The final thing is that, although it can be crushing when yet another romance withers, it’s important to remember that it was never meant to fix your life – it was only ever supposed to add to it. Single people don’t have the monopoly on loneliness. While it can be subjective, the loneliness I have felt within relationships, from partners who did not know how to communicate or talk about their problems, has been far worse.