Going solo (for real)

Eagle-eyed readers will be familiar with the fact that I went it alone, initially voluntarily and then thanks to some degree of third party force, in August this year. These readers would thus be forgiven for thinking that I have been going solo for over three months by now. This is not, however, the case.

It's not that I've been having a secret relationship. Far from it. But in order to buffer myself from the full sense of horror I felt at being on my tod, I developed a new obsession: finding a replacement. Still in an emotionally fragile state, not weeks after my break-up, I decided to cushion the blow by beginning the search for my next partner in crime. Of course, I was not remotely stable enough for this kind of venture and my (admittedly few) attempts to meet boys ended, inevitably, in varying levels of disaster.

Thus it was with resignation that I accepted the truth last weekend: I need to learn to live alone, once and for all, without crutches. After all, I'm no use to anyone if I don't value myself. My friend at work, Joe, encouraged me with his favourite paraphrased aphorism from Pascale: 'Man's greatest problem is his inability to sit quietly in a room by himself'. It doesn't matter if it's alcohol, drugs, friends, boys or rabbits, if you pour all your thoughts and energy into something external, it's clear that you're hiding from yourself. I've been hiding for far too long: now I'm stepping out into No Man's Land and it's flipping terrifying. My pathetic (but not unusual) need to cultivate a permanent frisson with some new idea has to be quelled. I'm going to read The Power of Now and become content with me in the present. I'm part of the way there already: I've made some gargantuan steps in the past few months and I am proud of myself for the distance I've already covered. But there's no doubt that the last hurdle remains to be leapt. I'm wearing the right trainers. My sports bra is hooked into position. The weather is temperate. And I'm now pulling the trigger on the starting gun: there are no more excuses. Can't believe I'm using a running metaphor. So unlikely.