Amy Roullier is The Authentic Optimist. Part time writer, full time pro at oversharing. With a no BS approach to conversations around single life, mental health and wellbeing
No-one seemed to mind when I was single at sixteen, eighteen, or twenty one. Single at thirty five though, that shit gets people questioning what the heck is wrong with you. And that single stigma only seems to heighten with age. Because there is something about being single, especially once you reach your thirties and beyond, that feels off. Like you are going against the grain. ‘Still’ single. Rather than …
However, no-one is going to applaud you for being single, nor celebrate your wins in a way they do for others. Yep, you heard me right. All in all, it’s fair to say that society can be extremely fixated on conventional accomplishments, specific expectations and mainstream milestones. Ones often intertwined with some aspect of partnership. Milestones like weddings, moving in with a partner, getting engaged, starting a family, or beginning …
I’ve been in my fair share of situationships over the past seven years. Apparently, they are on trend. Lucky me, hey! Not really, because the most painful thing about those situations, has been them waking up ready for a label, but not with me. Was I merely the warm up before the main event? The one who got them there, got them ready for commitment, ready for something more, but …
Is cooking for one worth it? Absolutely. Although I definitely didn’t feel this way a couple of years back. As someone who lives alone, I was one of those people who hated cooking and to be honest, didn’t think it was worth all the effort of laying out the cutlery, spending half an hour whipping up an exciting meal, and then tackling all the washing up, just for little old …
Why am I still single?. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve asked myself this question. Often accompanied with the following: Am I not a nice person? Deserving of love? Have I not endured and suffered enough frogs? Am I too bossy? Too confident? Should I be less opinionated? Is it the way I look? Where I live? Am I not pretty enough? Perhaps I should be more …
It wasn’t until I went single no mingle, that I realized how much dating had become an important part of my conversations with people. And by making who I was dating a highly discussed topic, I had inadvertently sent the message to myself that nothing else was more conversation worthy than this.
And if nothing else was as interesting, then nothing I had to say that wasn’t about when or who the next date was lined up with, mattered much.
I used to see single as a situation to survive. It’s taken me years to get to a point of being able to say, ‘I love being single,’ and really mean it.
It’s not been easy to trek for sure. However, it has been a lifechanging one. Which all started the moment I began to look at single as something other than a status I needed to do everything in my power, to change. I embraced being single, and in doing so worked my towards thrive rather than survive.
You wake up early, to sunlight seeping in through your bedroom window and the sound of chirping birds outside. You’re in no rush, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Lazily unfolding yourself from the duvet in your own time. You fancy scrambled eggs and coffee so you make them both. Just the way you like them. It’s a blue sky morning, so you sit outside to enjoy the sunshine and …
When I moved into my first solely owned house, post-divorce at 32, I was buzzing. My own place, to do whatever the hell I liked with. How bloody exciting! And then I quickly realized that I didn’t have a frigging clue how to do any of the things I wanted to do. Even the seemingly simple tasks like hanging up a mirror in my living room, I didn’t know where …
I mean categorically, yes. That wasn’t a trick question. For anyone who’s spent any length of time in the world of online dating, I know you’ll agree, it’s utter shit. I thought upgrading to digital was supposed to make life easier? But when it comes to online dating, it’s added a whole load of extra. And that extra is exhausting as fuck, self-depleting, terrible for any kind of self-worth, and …
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