Recently I ended an intimate relationship with someone who, thankfully, remains my friend. Our relationship was truly unique; at the start we avoided defining it or putting it in a box in order to allow it to become whatever it wanted to become. This was beautiful in many ways; I learned to stay in the present moment and appreciate our connection for what it truly was rather than what I projected it to be. And as I really wasn't even sure where I was going as an individual, the circumstances suited me just fine.
A year and a half went by, and we shared plenty of wonderful experience and made some great memories...but eventually the relationship changed. This is something all relationships do, and since ours started out so pliable, it was only natural for it to solidify. We were engaged and were planning our commitment ceremony when I began to feel lost. There was a glaring problem: the relationship had changed, but I hadn't. I still was unsure about what I wanted, who I was, and where I was going. I found myself in a commitment with a man who I truly cared about, but I was unsure it was the life I wanted. So after much contemplation, I ended it out of consideration for us both. I couldn't move forward with something I wasn't feeling with my whole heart, and I couldn't ask someone to stay with me when I wasn't even sure I wanted them to.
The past couple of months have been intensely educational. It's tough work stripping your life bare and starting again, which is essentially what I did. Sure, materialistically nothing had changed--I still had the same home and same job--but spiritually and psychologically I went through a rigorous reprogramming...and still am. I've spent the past several weeks just soul searching, asking myself serious questions such as, "Why am I repeating the same mistakes?" and "What is it I'm looking for, really?" to try and pinpoint what was going on and how I was to move forward. What I found knocked me over a little bit; I wasn't grounded in who I am. My first long term relationship was three and a half years long and I spent most--if not all--of it depressed. I had low self worth, I was addicted to drama, and I was constantly defining who I was by what others thought of me. At the end of that relationship, I took about a year on my own to find my Self...and I did, and she was beautiful, and I fell in love with her instantly. But at the end of that year, just as soon as I started to really be comfortable in my own skin and was truly being honest with myself and my feelings, I bolted right back into the dating world. A few dates here, a few embarrassing moments there, and before I knew it I was in another relationship before I had even taken time to figure out what it was I wanted. So while we had a great connection and made some wonderful memories together, a year and half passed by and I was nowhere nearer any goals...in fact, I couldn't even remember the few goals I had managed to set. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get married and have kids, I wasn't sure what career path I wanted to follow, and I surely had no clue who I wanted to spend my life with.
It occurred to me that in that year or so between relationships, I may have found myself, but I never owned myself; I never planted myself. You see, I like to think of myself as a tree. In that one year, I watered myself and nurtured myself and began to grow...but I began to force myself to grow upward, to reach for things before I had built a healthy root structure beneath me. Trees must have a strong root structure---the roots go down as far into the earth as the branches reach into the sky--in order to stand on their own. Naturally, as I was far from grounded, I eventually toppled over in my attempt to grow upward.
My number one problem in the relationships I've experienced thus far is that I lost myself in them. I became needy and codependent, completely fixated on my partner...and not in a good way. Because I hadn't learned to stand on my own, I leaned on them, and when they couldn't support that weight, I fell. Nobody should have to be that for me; it's time I learn to stand on my own.
So I've made a promise to myself: for as long as it takes, I will remain single and spend that time grounding myself firmly in who I am. I will focus on my passions, my dreams, my goals, and I will explore not only what I would like to see in a potential partner, but who I would be in that partnership. It may only take a few months, it may take several, it may take one year, it may take five...who knows. Only I can know. The best indication is how I feel. But I imagine it will happen organically. I imagine I'll be feeling strong, loving my single life, when all of a sudden the right man and I will connect. But never again will I enter into a relationship when I don't feel good about myself or am unsure about what I want in life. I can't be a good partner to anyone if I haven't given myself the basic essentials.
I'm young. I need to let myself BE young. I've always been in such a rush to grow up. Sure, I'm told repeatedly how mature I am for my age, that I'm an old soul, that I have a great head on my shoulders, and that I'm wise beyond my years...but I'm still a twenty-something who is trying to find her feet. I may have inner wisdom, but I don't have that much experience to back it up. I may have learned to unconditionally love a person, but I haven't learned how to set boundaries and I therefore end up playing a doormat far too often. And I may have vision, but I have no clue how to make that vision manifest. But it's all good...I have all the time in the world, and I embrace that. It's okay for me to stay at a more moderate height for a while until my roots grow a little stronger...then I can aspire to the height of a Redwood. What's more is I may never quite figure out what I want in life. After all, I'm only human. I don't expect to find all the answers, but merely to grow a more solid foundation in order to explore those questions and pursue those answers with integrity and strength.
I am a sapling. I welcome any storms; storms will strengthen my root structure. I welcome any insights and ideas that want to build nests in my branches so they can nurture their offspring. I welcome the sunshine and the rain to nourish me. In time, I'll find myself strongly rooted with a wealth of ideas skittering about in my branches. But for now, I grow...and I give myself the time and space I need in order to do so.
♡

