It has come to my attention that I am single on purpose.
Until now, it simply had not occurred to me.
Until now it seemed it was because of circumstances, or luck, or any other host of reasons that might suggest I had nothing to do with the decision.
There is nothing wrong with being single, of course. It’s just, I didn’t realize I was trying so hard to be.
In fact, my behaviors over the past seven months or so would suggest the very opposite. That I was indeed looking, hoping, for love.
It turns out I am doing all of the things that would make it seem like I was looking for love, a relationship, companionship. Except, I’m looking in all of the wrong places. Or, looking in all of the right places with no intention of actually trying to capture it.
Complete eye-opener, this realization. I don’t understand it all yet. But here’s my truth. At least, as much of my truth as I can see today:
I’m terrified of falling in love.
Not so much because I’m worried about getting my heart broken.
More so because I’m not sure I actually know what it means to be in love. I thought I did. I thought I had been.
What I think is, I was. But my capacity for, and understanding of, what it means to love has changed so significantly over the past several years, that I feel lost without a road map of how to discover this new way of being with someone. Of being with myself.
I’m terrified of being boring.
Of ending up with the life I have always thought I should have.
I know what it is to turn into one of those boring couples. The kind that loses all sense of self and becomes an entity entirely separate from the two beings actually in the relationship. I don’t want that life. ever. again.
I wish I was ready to find love. Or have love find me. Or, however that works.
As I am discovering, though, it matters not what I wish. There is no way I can make my heart ready any sooner than it will be.
Still. I cannot help but wish. That my un-broken yet un-ready heart would be ready to let another in. Wholly.
Here’s to another day of creativity…