Dying Alone Means Dying With Dignity For The Free Woman

“Why does dying alone always have a negative connotation? Why can’t it be a beautiful experience to take your last breath with your own best friend, which is yourself?”

A few nights ago I thought about the “lonely cat lady” identity many men and male-identified women who can’t attract the same men they worship joke about on a regular basis. And in the darkness of my bedroom I started to imagine my life in the future; more specifically, the end of my life.

And the following thought came to me:

I would be honored to die alone with a bunch of cats.

Now I am far-removed from any nurturing traits science has automatically attributed to my womanhood without my consent, so I do not see myself taking care of any more animals in this lifetime. Both plants and animals have died in my care, and I do not want any other lives to suffer while I try my hand at mothering anything. I’m just not built for it. So I am giving up and moving on.

I take care of myself very well. But other living things? Not so much.

I believe I owe it to myself to change the narrative when it comes to dying alone. Why does dying alone always have a negative connotation? Why can’t it be a beautiful experience to take your last breath with your own best friend…