R. Van Beers
I’ve become a bitter old maid. I didn’t want it to happen, but here it is. I’ve spent my life trying to make sure I didn’t end up this way. I swore that if I ended up alone and childless, I would never be bitter about it. I pushed back against bitterness with everything that I had. It was a mantra that ran through my head constantly: Don’t be bitter. Whatever happens, don’t be bitter.
Parallel to that thought has been a fairly consistent feeling that I don’t matter. I’ve never had a wedding, a baby shower, or an offspring’s first birthday party. None of the “normal” milestones that everyone around me seemed to breeze through with relative ease. Because I spend so much time alone, there’s usually no one around to counter the message, so it continues on a loop in my head: I don’t matter. I don’t matter. I don’t matter.
I can hear the gas being lit as I write this: “Don’t dwell on the negatives.” “You always try to find something to be sad about.” “If you only knew how hard it is to be a partner/parent you wouldn’t be so quick to wish for something you don’t have.” “Someone else always has it worse.” “Be careful, you sound bitter.”
The thing is, I’ve spent my entire life being considerate of others. Of doing everything in my power to make sure that no one feels left out or forgotten. I’ve tried to show up for people I care about, even if it’s hard. But what happens when people don’t show up for me in the same way? Seeds of bitterness get planted. They sprout roots and shoots and eventually overtake me. And then I’m told it’s my own fault. I should have worked harder to keep the poisonage foliage under control. Should have weeded more often. Should have paid attention to what was taking shape. Should have put myself out there, wherever there is. The bitterness was my own doing.
What I’ve come to realize though, is that being a bitter old maid did not come about because I wasn’t paying attention or trying hard enough to keep it away. I have been pruning, pulling, and casting out bitterness whenever and wherever I could find it for my entire life. And yet, here it is. Now I can see that it’s here because the world has told me relentlessly that I am less than everyone around me because I am single and childless. No wedding or baby shower for me, and so I don’t matter. It’s been a hard lesson to learn but I’ve now swallowed that tough pill. Instead of wasting my time trying to avoid it, I’ll start watering my bitter garden, shaping my self-proclaimed bitterness into the most beautiful life that I can. Just for me.
Perhaps this is how witches are born.
*Note: I had friends who threw me a PhD party when I successfully defended my dissertation. It was the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me. Highly recommend - 10/10!
