I never watched Disney movies growing up. My mind was invested in the belief of happily ever afters. I didn’t live believing that my Prince Charming was going to come along and save me. It just never crossed my mind.
I was young, and already ingrained with wanderlust. I wanted this life of bright vibrant adventures. I knew those existed because my mind was consistently craving new literature. One of my favorite traditions with my mother was to take our paperback books to the Paperback Exchange and purchase new ones on a credit. I found so many magnificent worlds and I never had to leave my bedroom.
Attending a private Christian college had plenty of rough waters through which to navigate. When I first started, I wasn’t a Christian, and so my obvious religious indifference set me apart. But, I didn’t have idealized versions of how my love story would play out.
I am not saying that I believe Disney gives everyone those notions. I am saying that I didn’t grow up listening to fairy tales. But it did seem that nearly every female around me was going to get their MRS degree and have 2.5 children.
When I first got there I thought everyone had been infected by a crazy disease, and from the looks of it it was contagious.
I didn’t want the men that I encountered to whisk me off into a fairy tale. I was still bleeding from the fissures in my metaphoric heart. I hadn’t let go of love from life passed.
And even now I haven’t healed from those. I think I had known all along that it wasn’t in my plans. I wasn’t supposed to give so many pieces of my heart puzzle away. It wasn’t intended to be this object of barter. I offered up freely of my heart because I thought it would guarantee that people would stay.
Younger me was an idiot. I thought that being vulnerable would make people want to be vulnerable and not take advantage of me. (Spoiler alert: being authentic with the wrong people only gets you hurt. People are pretty rotten by nature.)
Now I’m 25 headed for 26. I don’t know where my life went. It seems that these years get slammed into fast forward and everything has changed before I could take note of all of the good things. And I’ve devoted a year to being single.
I should be aware that my biological clock is ticking! I won’t be able to fall in love and enjoy years childless with a husband before starting a family if I don’t meet him soon. Something must be definitely wrong with me if I’m not meeting men at the club and taking them home for one night stands. Surely I am broken.
No. Singleness isn’t a curse. It is something that, whether you’ve made note of it or not, we all start out that way. If you’re one of the negative percent that was married at the moment that you drew your first breath, get out of here. But it doesn’t mean I have some defect.
My actual defect is chasing relationships solely based on the perceived potential that I see in other people. I grow to believe that these people will follow through and achieve the dreams that I have for them. My broken relationships are ultimately driven by this naive selfish ambition. I search for people broken so that I can work on fixing them. It has only lead to tremendous heart break.
I am using these months to really develop an unshakeable foundation in my faith. I’m using this month to reset negative thinking patterns. I’m using this time to push past the loneliness and desire to be with people to fix them. I’m working to find completeness without expecting someone else to fulfill my need.