Relationships aren’t always the happy ending we’re sold
Every time I’ve been in a relationship – even the ones I’d classify as “happy” – I’ve cried at least twice as often as I do when I’m single.
That’s wild, right? We’re led to believe that being in a relationship is the goal. That once you meet “the one,” everything falls into place and you float off into bliss.
Well… in my experience, that’s a load of shit.
Even during the loving, exciting, belly-flipping moments, there’s always been anxiety, worry, shame, and disappointment creeping in.
(Disclaimer: I know the right person could feel different. Someone who calms your nervous system and makes life feel safer, easier, better. I just haven’t met them yet.)
The staircase breakdown that changed everything
I remember once in my twenties, I let an ex back into my life (big mistake). Surprise, surprise… he was messing me around.
One night, I was crouched on the stairs of my house, sobbing. Like, the full-on, heart-wrenching, inconsolable sobs. And suddenly it hit me: I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this sad until he came back into my life. Now I was crying constantly.
That realisation slapped me in the face. Why would I stay with someone who actually made my life worse when I was quite happy single?
Choosing single life on my terms
After that, I stayed single for a long time. Seven years, in fact. Don’t get me wrong, I dated – but nothing stuck.
I was looking for someone who made my life better. Not the same. Definitely not worse.
Better. If it’s not better, I’m not interested.
Love restored my faith… but not forever
In my most recent relationship, I felt loved, cared for, valued. It was such a warm, safe feeling, and it restored my faith that I could actually find that, and also that I was capable of letting it in.
I had started to wonder if the problem was me. Too picky, too intolerant. But really, I was just waiting for it to feel right.
And it did feel right, for a while, but after a couple of years the old feelings crept back- doubt, sadness, dissatisfaction. My needs weren’t being met. I was settling for the idea of what we could be, instead of the reality. And of course, I dragged it out longer than I should have, because I was in love.
Such a sucker for love.
Finding joy in being alone
The past two years have been about healing, travelling, working on myself, and breaking the same old patterns. And once again, I’m genuinely so happy on my own.
No insecure, commitment-phobic, problematic man to stress me out. Just me, living, laughing, and building the life I want.
Will I ever let someone in again?
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve become too comfortable on my own. So at peace with myself that maybe I won’t let anyone close again.
But here’s the thing: I’m not in a rush. I’m not panicked about timelines. If I meet someone in my fifties, that’s fine. Until then, I’ll keep loving my friends, my family, and this wild solo journey I’m on.
And maybe one day, someone amazing will step up at just the right time.
Until then? I’ll keep doing my thing.
