Q: How do you handle the fear of growing old alone?

Hello, From the Other Side #12

Welcome to the “Hello, From the Other Side” series, a (non)advice column from someone who's been there and (currently) lives to tell the story. This is one person’s perspective to help shed light on the grief experience and to help others feel less alone.

Please note that I am not a therapist. I don’t have any official expertise, but I do have experience. Lots and lots of experience

Q: I’m a widow and the idea of ever falling in love again feels impossible. How do you handle the fear of growing old alone? - Solo in Seattle

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Dear Solo,

In full disclosure, after many years of being alone (and assuming I would be alone forever), I am now happily re-partnered. Perhaps, in your mind, that makes me a little less credible to answer your question. But because I’ve walked in your grief shoes, I dug into my archives of past writings and found the below answer - to the same question - from when I was single and alone and had the same fears you had.

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When I was younger, I never really had a fear of growing old alone. I had this picture of myself as a strong, independent woman surrounded - not by a husband - but by a house full of dogs.¹

The truth is, I didn’t want to grow old alone, even then. My earlier “manifestation” was really just created out of fear. I feared I would never find a partner, so I conceived this vision of my future that didn’t rely on finding love. I had no healthy examples of love or marriage, so I was unable to picture it for myself. Walls were put up early to protect myself from future hurt.

And then I met Brad. And he persistently and stubbornly broke down those walls. I felt secure in both my relationship and in my future. With Brad, I felt secure in myself. I never imagined the possibility of him dying young and leaving me to handle the “growing old” part alone. It just wasn’t an option I had considered. If anything, I would die first and leave him to figure out the rest. He was better at long-term planning anyway.

But here I am. Alone with regular thoughts about my future and certainly not getting any younger.

So how do I handle the fear?

On my best days, I live as the strong, badass, warrior I am, knowing I’ll be fulfilled in my future, whether with a partner or not. I fill my days connecting and writing and laughing and exploring. I fill my days creating the best version of myself so that even if I grow old “alone,” I’ll be surrounded by those I love (including myself), doing the things I love.

But on my worst days? On those days, I give in to the crippling loneliness I feel. The intense yearning for another human. For touch. For intimacy. For companionship. I imagine living my life as that same badass warrior, but never getting to share that with another person. Never building a lifetime of inside jokes reserved just for the two of us. Never again being looked at like a magical fucking unicorn.

On my worst days, I deeply feel that loneliness and wonder if I'll still feel that way 5, 10, 20 years from now. And it’s fucking hard. And honestly, I don’t always handle it well. I sink into a temporary depression, turn on the saddest of sad music, and feel sorry for myself. It’s not pretty. But I do think it’s valuable to allow myself to go there. Because even when I’m in my deep, dark sinkhole, I know I’m not going to stay there. Not forever.²

Most days, I'm somewhere in between.

If I'm being honest, I’m not sure if I believe I’ll grow old alone (also a shift from the early sinkhole days). I'm aware that I am young enough that I still may get 50 or more beautiful years with another person.³ And the truth is, that idea is just as scary as growing old alone. Because after Brad died, many of those early walls went back up. I stopped depending on - or asking for - help. After depending on another person for so long, I decided I needed to protect myself and stop relying on anyone. Because what if there isn't another person? What if it is just me?

Me, alone with a house full of dogs, is a very real possibility.

Imagining a different version of the reality you thought you’d get isn’t easy. Accepting a different version of the reality you thought you'd get really isn't easy.

So for me, it’s balancing the fear of growing old alone along with the fear of growing old with somebody who isn’t Brad. And in order to dissect that, I’d have to dive into the depths of dating and sex, so I'll reserve that for a future “Hello, From the Other Side” post.

In the meantime…

If you fear growing old alone, focus on being the best, most interesting, most compelling, most joyful version of yourself. For yourself.

Find community, get a vibrator, go on adventures, live wildly, make mistakes.

Live.

The rest will fall into place.

Have a question for a future column? Ask it here.

Looking for a community of others who get it? Consider joining the Forced Joy Club.

1. Did my 17-year-old self manifest this current reality? Yeah, probably not.

2. To anyone stuck in your own sinkhole, know that this is a huge shift from the earlier days when I felt like I’d live and die in that sinkhole of depression. It does get better.

3. Thanks to every random person reminding me that I’m “young and will find someone else!” (Also, never say that to anyone).