Miss Independent

Independence is overrated.

It's past midnight, my alarm is going to go off in four and a half hours, and I can't sleep. Tomorrow morning is going to be just wonderful.

I'm depressed tonight, God alone knows why.

So many times, I've listened to people say, "You're so independent, Anna. I think that's great." I don't laugh at them. And I don't cry. I deserve major brownie points for each. Independence, you see, isn't always a choice. Sometimes it's just the hand you're dealt, a consequence of a basic personality aspect that you're either born with or learn to develope. In my case, I think it's both.

My mom tells me that even as a baby I was independent. I didn't want to be held except when I wanted to be held. I was walking at nine months and out of the crib at a year or so because I had started putting myself to bed and falling on my head when I decided I wanted to get up. It was just safer all around to not have me climbing out of the crib. My mom says that she'd get up to take me to bed to find that I was already there and asleep. So even as a toddler, I had that streak. How much of it, though, was nature and how much of it was self-defense? Katie has never been the sharing type, and I can't imagine that at two years old she was happy to have someone else around needing Mom's attention. With Beth soon following... Yeah, I can see how a natural determination to do it myself quickly became a necessary independence.

There's a flip side to independence. There's a price. When you think of an independent woman, you think of someone single, making it on her own, doing what she wants without having to answer to anyone. You think of someone who can move on a moment's notice, wherever she wants to go.

You don't think of the fact that independence is also very, very lonely. In all the world, the independent woman has no one that thinks of her first. Or second, third, or fourth. And independent woman can take care of herself, after all. She doesn't need anyone - and no one needs her.

When there's a death in the family, everyone has someone to comfort them. The daughter of the deceased has her husband. The son has his wife. The spouse has his/her children, siblings, parents. The grandchildren have their spouses. As I learned when my grandfather, and then my uncle, died the independent woman has no one. She's one of the mass and no one gives her a thought, so she turns her attention to taking care of others and saves her tears for later. Those who might comfort her are too caught in their own pain, and are being comforted themselves.

When there's joy in her life, there's no one to share it with. During the holidays, there's no one to make plans with, to share traditions with. Major milestones, proud accomplishments, aren't celebrated because there's no one to celebrate them with. There's no one to think that maybe it would be nice if someone else made an effort to mark the occasion with a celebration of some kind.

Everyone has their family, and their families should come first. That's the way it needs to be. Don't envy the independent woman. You have what she probably wants most.

Independence isn't always a choice. Sometimes it just is. It's hard to be anything but independent when you've never had the opportunity to be anything else. When the sum total of dating opportunities by the time you hit your 30's is just two. The guy who asked you to your senior prom the day before - and who you never knew, during four years of school together, had the slightest interest in you. The guy that worked for your dad and you thought was more interested on getting on his good side than in you. Didn't go to prom for several reasons - most of which I regret now - and wasn't interested in being used.

I'm 32 years old, and I would gladly sacrifice some of this precious independence to know that somewhere in there world there is someone who puts me first. That when I'm grieving, they'll want to comfort me before anyone else. That when I'm happy, they'll want to be there to share it. That when I've accomplished something, they'll want to plan a celebration to show how proud they are of me.

But I want this with someone who loves me for being me. I don't want to revamp my personality just to attract someone. It wouldn't be me then - it would be an artificial personality. How could I be happy with that?

If the future holds what the past has held, then I can look forward to a lifetime of independence. It's a depressing thought. It's a sobering one. It's one that I've come to accept as all but inevitable. I don't want to change myself into something I'm not just to ward off loneliness. If I can't be accepted and loved for who I really am, then so be it. I'll live with being far down on the list of anyone's concerns. I'll take care of myself, prepare to face the difficulties of old age alone, and find some happiness in that. There are, after all, far worse things in life.

I usually like being alone. I'm content with my own company. But sometimes, I wonder... would I have liked being a wife and mother more?

And now it's 3 hours, 45 minutes before the alarm so I'll try to sleep again. Maybe this venting will have purged my mind enough that I can.