Still Waiting for One: Holding On When It’s Hard

There comes a point in life when time begins to feel different. 

You find yourself standing somewhere in the middle, no longer certain what to choose. And if you are honest, maybe you were never entirely certain. You reach that stage people describe as a ticking clock, when time no longer bends to your desires or waits for your longings. It moves forward steadily, on its own terms.

Many have tried to negotiate with it, to soften it, delay it, or charm it into slowing down. But time does not yield. It continues, leaving its marks behind. At this stage, life speaks a different language than it did in youth. It is no longer the language of dreams and endless possibilities, but of achievements: home, family, children, stability. The question shifts from “who” to “when,” and slowly it begins to feel like a race.

Holding On to Truth

People start making choices they once believed they never would. Not always out of desire, but out of fear. Fear of being left behind, of remaining outside the circle, of facing the quiet weight of loneliness. The main thing becomes to move forward, to be part of the flow, to avoid the questions, the whispers, the expectations.

But what if I refuse to be like everyone else?

What if I still choose to hold on to something deeper? What if I still believe that Hashem has a path that is meant specifically for me, a salvation that is mine alone? What if I refuse to compromise in a way that would mean losing myself? What if I still believe in the possibility of a love that is whole, a connection that feels true, one that I will recognize when it arrives?

The Price of Waiting

And what if holding on to that belief comes with a price?

Because it does. There is always a price. Whether one chooses to settle or chooses to wait, every path carries its own cost. It may mean accepting someone who is not truly suitable, or continuing to stand alone while others move forward. It may mean facing questions, doubts, and the quiet ache of time passing.

And still, something inside refuses to let go.

Is it worth it? Only Hashem knows what is in the heart. But there is a cry that rises from within, deep and undeniable, insisting that it is. Because truth is not measured by ease. It is measured by how deeply it belongs to you.

The Pain of Faith

There are moments when the waiting feels unbearable, when the voices around grow louder, telling you that you are wrong, that what you are hoping for does not exist, that in the end everyone learns to settle. And yet, something inside resists. Because if it were not true, it would not hurt this much. The pain itself becomes part of the truth.

A Journey Within

Returning to that truth is not a single moment, but a journey made up of many small, inner steps. It requires looking inward, uncovering who you are, facing what is uncomfortable, and holding on even when it feels fragile. In my case, that truth is not easy. It is painful, exposed, and at times even embarrassing. It challenges everything I thought I understood about the world. But it is still mine, and I hold onto it.

The Refusal to Give Up

Do not ask me to stop waiting. Do not ask me to leave the place where hope still lives. Because I believe there is a voice meant for me, a voice my soul will recognize even among many others. A voice that feels familiar, like something I have always known, something my heart will open to naturally.

Yes, the world is not a fairytale. It is complex, noisy, and often overwhelming. Dreams can feel fragile in the face of reality. But even so, I continue to hold onto them. Because what is written today in tears may one day be understood differently, perhaps even by others who walk this path after me.

An Unbroken Spirit

Time presses, it tests, and at times it wounds. But there is a spirit within that does not fade, a quiet voice that continues to speak even when everything else grows silent. It insists that this waiting is not empty, that it is leading somewhere, even if the destination is not yet visible.

If there is love in the world, I will wait for it. Through uncertainty, through fear, through moments that feel endless, I will continue to hold on. Because this is what loyalty means. Not only to Hashem, but to oneself. To remain true even when it is difficult, to believe even when it hurts.

And slowly, something begins to shift. Instead of only feeling the weight of waiting, I begin to make space for gratitude. To say thank you, even for the uncertainty, for the fears, for the long path. Because when gratitude enters, the experience itself changes. The waiting becomes softer, more bearable, even meaningful.

The Beginning of Redemption

Perhaps this is what “one” truly means. Not only the person we are waiting for, but the place within ourselves where heart and words align, where what we feel and what we say become one. A sense of inner completeness that exists even before anything external changes.

And from that place, I continue to stand, to hope, and to wait.

Still waiting, but no longer afraid.