Tiny Buddha

Tag: dating

  • I Spent Years Chasing Love Until I Finally Chose Myself

    I Spent Years Chasing Love Until I Finally Chose Myself

    “The only people who get upset when you set boundaries are the ones who benefited from you having none.” ~Unknown

    For most of my life, I lived with a quiet ache, a longing I couldn’t quite name but always felt. I wanted to be chosen. Not just liked or tolerated, but fully seen, wanted, and loved.

    That longing shaped so many of my choices. I over-gave in relationships, staying in situations far longer than I should have, and shrank myself to be accepted.

    I didn’t know it at the time, but I was trying to fill an emptiness that had started years before, an emptiness born in silence and absence, in words left unsaid and emotions left unacknowledged.

    You see, I grew up in a household that looked stable from the outside when, in reality, the opposite was the case.

    My father was a brilliant and accomplished professor but emotionally unreachable. He was a provider, but not someone I could run to, laugh with, or open to. Our conversations rarely went beyond school and grades—never “How are you feeling?” or “What’s on your heart?”

    Affection wasn’t part of the language we spoke at home. I learned early that performance was prized, but vulnerability was not. That I had to know things without asking, succeed without stumbling, and carry weight without complaint.

    As a child, you don’t have the language for the emotional neglect that comes as a result of this, but you feel it in your body. You sense the void.

    Even before I could articulate words, I felt more comfortable with paper than with people. I didn’t speak until I was four and carried a piece of paper everywhere I went, using it to express what I couldn’t say out loud.

    Writing became my voice before I had one. But even that was dismissed. My father didn’t see value in it. And so, the message was reinforced again: What I loved didn’t matter. Who I was wasn’t enough.

    And over time, I internalized that belief. I carried it into my teenage years and well into adulthood, thinking love had to be earned through sacrifice or silence.

    I struggled with setting boundaries because I didn’t want to be “too much” and drive people away. I mistook people-pleasing for kindness, over-accommodation for loyalty, and emotional exhaustion for love.

    My longing for connection often led me into relationships where I gave more than I received. I wanted so badly to be seen, to feel chosen, to matter to someone in the ways I never felt I did growing up.

    But the more I sought love externally, the more disconnected I became from myself. My self-worth was tangled in how others treated me, how well I performed, how little I complained, and how much I could endure.

    One of the most defining relationships of my life culminated in an engagement. At the time, it felt like a dream come true. Here was this successful, handsome man who made six figures and stood over six feet tall. And he chose me. He was also spiritual and into meditation, something I had been exploring with the Buddhists, so I felt this deep alignment with him. It felt like a sign that maybe I was finally enough to be loved fully.

    But in hindsight, that relationship mirrored all the unresolved wounds I hadn’t yet faced. Without realizing it, I had found someone who was essentially my father, an engineer, emotionally unavailable, with a temper and narcissistic tendencies. I was literally about to marry my father. When it ended in 2014, it left me feeling like I had failed, not just in love, but in my identity.

    I didn’t realize it then, but the engagement wasn’t just a romantic loss; it was the collapse of the illusion I had built to protect myself.

    Prior to the engagement, I had already spent years performing at work, in friendships, and in love. The little girl who once ached to be seen had grown into a woman who poured herself into everything and everyone, just to feel worthy of being chosen.

    At work, I became a relentless overachiever. I tied my value to performance, convinced that if I exceeded expectations, my bosses, my colleagues, anyone would have no choice but to love me. I wasn’t just doing my job; I was doing the most, all the time. Not from ambition, but from a quiet desperation.

    But overgiving didn’t bring admiration; it brought disrespect. I ended up with bosses who were bullies. I remember one vividly. I had worked hard on a project with a team, believing it would finally earn his approval. He looked at it once, then threw it in the trash right in front of me.

    Still, I stayed. Still, I tried harder. Still, I chased the validation that never came. Because deep down, I thought I had to earn love. That if I just proved myself enough, someone would finally say, “You’re worth it.”

    It wasn’t just at work. In friendships, I bent myself backwards to belong. I mirrored the habits of others just to stay close. If they drank, I drank. If they were into something I didn’t enjoy, I pretended to love it.

    I mistook blending in for bonding. I didn’t know that a healthy connection doesn’t require self-erasure.

    And in romantic relationships? The pattern deepened.

    The first guy I dated was vulnerable, open, willing to truly see me. But I couldn’t handle it. His tenderness felt foreign, uncomfortable even.

    Because I’d never known that kind of love. I didn’t think I deserved it. I told myself I wanted someone “edgier,” but the truth was, I was more familiar with emotional unavailability than emotional safety.

    And so, I gravitated toward men who couldn’t love me well. Men who ignored me, mistreated me, made me feel small. I shrank to fit their needs.

    I became who I thought they wanted—changing my interests, compromising my values, giving all of myself just to be chosen. And I settled. I accepted crumbs and called it a connection.

    There was Matt, someone I’d known in college as a friend. When we started dating later, I thought maybe this was it. But he’d spend time talking about the women he found attractive right in front of me.

    And Dustin, I paid for his flight to come see me when I lived in Texas. Even paid for a coach to help him find a better job. Not because I had to, but because somewhere inside, I believed that love could be bought.

    After all, that’s what I had learned. My father gave gifts, not affection. Money, not presence. So I repeated the pattern, hoping financial sacrifice would lead to emotional intimacy.

    I slept with men who didn’t care for me. I stayed with partners who didn’t choose me. I even cheated, sometimes with men who were already in other relationships because if they were willing to risk what they had for me, then maybe I mattered. Maybe I was special.

    But the truth is, I was still that little girl with the paper in her hand, trying to speak a language no one around her understood. Still aching to be seen. Still hoping someone would say, “You are enough.”

    These pains would then become the very ground where the seeds of transformation would be planted.

    But healing didn’t come all at once. It came quietly, slowly.

    At first, I didn’t know where to start. All I knew was that something had to change. I was tired of feeling stuck in the same cycle, repeating the same patterns, and finding myself in relationships that only brought more hurt.

    I knew I needed space to figure out why I kept choosing unhealthy relationships and why I was drawn to people who couldn’t truly love me.

    In early April of 2015, I made one of the hardest phone calls of my life. I called my mom to tell her I needed a break. None of us were familiar with boundaries back then, but I knew I had to find myself outside of my family’s influence. We both cried on that call. I couldn’t give her a timeframe as I had no idea how long this would take.

    My dad didn’t take it well. Shortly after, he left me a voicemail, convinced I’d joined some kind of cult. He felt like I was turning my back on him. For almost two years, I kept my distance. I’d send cards on holidays, but I didn’t call or text. I needed that space to heal.

    The first move I made was joining a twelve-step program aimed at breaking free from addiction. That’s where I met Gina. She became more than just a mentor, a guide.

    She helped me dig deeper into the underlying issues I hadn’t acknowledged before. I also cut ties with people I thought were my friends because I realized they didn’t genuinely care about me. Instead, I slowly started building healthier relationships.

    A big part of my journey was introspection. I started asking myself the hard questions:

    Why do I keep picking unavailable men?

    Why do I keep repeating the same toxic patterns?

    What does a healthy relationship even look like?

    It was uncomfortable, but I knew I had to figure out why I was drawn to those situations and how I could change. I wanted to understand my own behaviors and patterns so I could break free from the cycle.

    I went to therapy, tried acupuncture to help me sleep, and even explored Buddhism to find some inner peace. I attended a Methodist church, hoping to reconnect with a sense of faith and community.

    Showing up to these places on my own without the crutch of a friend or a partner was a huge step for me. I began to realize the strength in simply being present and curious on my own.

    I also started exploring concepts that would change my perspective on relationships entirely.  Someone introduced me to attachment theory and trauma bonding, and it was like a light bulb went off. Suddenly, I had names for the patterns I was trapped in.

    I learned that I was “avoidant”—someone so terrified of being truly known because deep down, I didn’t believe I had anything worthwhile to offer. Yet I kept gravitating toward people who were emotionally withdrawn, just like my father. I had to chase them for any scrap of affection or attention. Later, I discovered this was called trauma bonding, where you develop feelings and loyalty toward someone who’s treating you poorly. It was a revelation that both devastated and freed me.

    I read books by Brené Brown, went on retreats, and soaked up as much knowledge as I could. I was desperate to understand myself, so I kept asking questions, taking notes, and allowing myself to be vulnerable in safe spaces.

    One of the biggest breakthroughs came when I realized how much anger I was holding onto. I remember a conversation with my mom. I was so angry that she kept trying to fix me or give me advice when all I needed was to just be. She’d send me books on anger management, text me inspirational quotes, or tell me what she thought was best for me. Every gesture felt like another reminder that who I was wasn’t enough.

    That’s when it hit me: I didn’t just hate the advice. I was angry at myself, at my own patterns, at feeling stuck. I knew I couldn’t keep living like that, so I chose to take a two-year break from my family to sort through those emotions.

    I wanted to connect with people not out of guilt or obligation, but because I genuinely wanted to be around them.

    The shift was gradual, but I started to see progress when I could attend community events alone, like the Buddhism gatherings or church services. Those first few times, I felt terrified and hesitant, questioning whether I belonged there. But once I actually showed up, something shifted. I felt empowered in a way I’d never experienced before.

    I was finally showing up as myself, not performing or trying to be what I thought others wanted. I was vulnerable and honest about when I wasn’t okay, and that honesty was freeing.

    I came to terms with my relationship with my dad by forgiving him. I used to carry so much resentment, but I learned to see him for who he was, not who I wished he would be.

    The full forgiveness came years later when I started my own relationship coaching business. I realized that without his emotional unavailability, without all that pain he caused, I wouldn’t have been driven to dig so deeply into my own wounds. In a strange way, he helped me find my calling and ironically, he hates that I’m a relationship coach now. There’s something deeply satisfying about finally being my own person. Since I’ve learned to accept myself, I can accept and forgive him fully. Acceptance didn’t mean agreeing or condoning his behavior, but it allowed me to let go of the hurt.

    I could be around him without the weight of past pain.

    Healing didn’t mean I stopped making mistakes, but I’ve learned to choose myself, to honor my feelings without needing validation from others.

    And if you’re reading this, I want you to know: Healing is messy and nonlinear, but it’s worth it. You don’t have to perform for love.  You don’t have to prove your worth. You just have to start slowly, with the smallest act of truth.

    For me, that act of truth—what Martha Beck calls “the way to integrity” was the simple but profound realization that I didn’t have to earn love from my dad, my teachers, my bosses, or anyone else. I was worthy of love just by being me. What a relief that was.

  • The Truth About Why I’ve Ghosted People (and What I’ve Learned)

    The Truth About Why I’ve Ghosted People (and What I’ve Learned)

    “Ghosting is cruel because it denies a person the chance to process, to ask questions, or to get closure. It’s emotional abandonment, masquerading as protection.” ~Dr. Jennice Vilhauer

    I never set out to ghost anyone.

    In fact, I used to hate ghosting with the burning fury of a thousand unread dating app notifications. I told myself I’d never be that person—the one who disappears mid-conversation, fails to reply after a good date (or sends a very bland thank you message), or silently vanishes like a breadcrumb trail to nowhere.

    And yet… here I am. Writing a post about how I’ve ghosted people.

    Not because I’m proud of it. Not because I think it’s defensible. But because I’ve come to understand why I’ve done it—and what that says about dating culture, emotional patterns, and my own very human flaws.

    So, if you’ve ever been ghosted and wondered what was going through the other person’s head—or if you’ve ghosted and don’t quite understand your own behavior—this is for you.

    Because behind every silence is a story.

    A Pattern Primed by the Past

    Let’s start with this: I didn’t begin my dating journey with cynicism. I started like many people— hopeful, curious, wide-eyed.

    But after a few rounds of being ghosted myself, misled, or strung along by people who said all the right things but meant none of them, my hope began to erode. Slowly, subtly, like a stone smoothed down by constant friction.

    Over time, the pattern looked like this:

    • Match with someone promising.
    • Exchange funny, thoughtful messages.
    • Maybe go on a date or two.
    • Then, suddenly… nothing. Silence. A flatline.

    It wasn’t always dramatic. Sometimes the conversations just faded. Other times, it was abrupt. I’d be mid-conversation and—boom—gone. No explanation, no closure. Just another digital ghost in the machine.

    And while I knew intellectually that this was “part of online dating,” it still landed. It primed me to expect disappointment. To approach each new match not with optimism, but with quiet dread.

    Eventually, I started thinking:

    What’s the point? They’ll probably flake anyway.

    Ghosting as a Defense Mechanism

    So, where does my ghosting come in?

    At first, it was subtle. Maybe I’d take a little longer to reply. Or I’d go silent on someone who seemed nice but who I didn’t feel an immediate spark with.

    I’d tell myself:

    • “I don’t owe them anything.”
    • “They probably don’t care.”
    • “It’s better to fade than force it.”

    But the truth is, my ghosting wasn’t about them. It was about me.

    It was a reflection of my fear of disappointing someone, my lack of emotional bandwidth to explain myself, and my protective instinct kicking in when I sensed something familiar—and not in a good way.

    I had been ghosted so many times that I began to preemptively disengage before anyone could do it to me.

    If you leave first, at least you’re not the one being left.

    It’s a faulty logic, but when you’ve been conditioned by repeated negative experiences, you start to default to protection over connection. And ghosting—silent and sudden—is the ultimate form of emotional self-preservation.

    Cynicism in the Profile Scroll

    Online dating is like a mental rollercoaster of judgments, hope, disappointment, and the occasional serotonin spike when someone has a dog and knows how to use punctuation.

    But over time, I noticed something about how I was engaging with profiles:

    I wasn’t curious—I was critical. I wasn’t open—I was braced for disappointment. I’d read bios looking for reasons to notengage, rather than to connect.

    Somewhere along the line, dating apps stopped being exciting and started feeling like a parade of micro-rejections—even when I was the one doing the rejecting.

    I became a dating cynic in a world that rewards detachment. I looked at profiles and thought:

    “This guy probably lives with his ex and/or is married.”

    “He looks like a player and lacks authenticity—even though I was going on very little evidence.”

    “He’ll definitely tell me he’s ‘not looking for anything serious’ but still want attention and the accompanying ego boost.”

    And even if someone seemed genuinely kind, I’d think: What’s the catch?

    That mindset doesn’t just hurt others. It corrodes your ability to be present, vulnerable, or sincere.

    Ghosting as Avoidance, Not Malice

    Here’s what I’ve realized through self-reflection and a few too many red wines while watching reruns of “Love at First Sight”: ghosting is not about cruelty. It’s about avoidance.

    Ghosting feels easier than:

    • Crafting a rejection message
    • Sitting in the discomfort of someone else’s disappointment
    • Risking an awkward reply, or worse, an argument

    It’s quick. It’s clean. It’s also emotionally lazy.

    But when your emotional reserves are running low—especially from repeated rejection, indifference, or burnout—ghosting can feel like the only viable exit strategy.

    That doesn’t make it right. But it makes it understandable.

    And often, people ghost not because they don’t care but because they’re overwhelmed by the possibility of caring and not knowing what to do with it.

    The Cycle of Ghosting

    When ghosting becomes the norm, we all lose. It creates a culture where:

    • We dehumanize the people we talk to.
    • We second-guess our self-worth.
    • We become afraid of emotional exposure.
    • We settle into half-hearted connections because we don’t expect real ones to last.

    It breeds mutual distrust, and that, ironically, makes ghosting more likely.

    I started to see it like a self-perpetuating loop:

    Get ghosted → become jaded → ghost others → deepen the culture of avoidance.

    And yet, I also realized something else: If I wanted to break the loop, someone had to go first.

    What I’ve Learned (That Might Help You Too)

    Here’s what’s shifted for me over time:

    1. Avoidance doesn’t spare feelings. It just delays discomfort.

    Telling someone you’re not feeling a connection is awkward. But not telling them leaves them confused, maybe even hurt. And it leaves you carrying emotional clutter.

    2. Emotional boundaries are not the same as emotional withdrawal.

    It’s okay to not continue a conversation. It’s okay to end things after a date. But doing so with clarity and kindness (even a single line) is far more respectful than silence.

    3. Ghosting devalues human connection, even in small ways.

    When you ghost someone, you’re subtly reinforcing the idea that people are disposable. And in doing so, you chip away at your own sense of connection.

    4. Cynicism protects, but it also prevents.

    Expecting the worst can be a shield, but it also blocks the good. Staying open, curious, and kind—even after heartbreak—is the bravest thing you can do.

    What I Try to Do Now

    These days, I approach online dating differently. Not perfectly. But more intentionally.

    If I’m not interested, I’ll say something like:

    “Thanks for the chat. I don’t think this is a match, but I wish you well!”

    Simple. Kind. Closure. Done.

    And if I’m feeling overwhelmed and don’t have the bandwidth to connect, I pause. I take a break. I don’t keep conversations going just for the dopamine or out of obligation.

    Because being honest and respectful, even online, feels a lot better than the lingering guilt of another message left unanswered.

    Final Thoughts: Honesty and Authenticity Over Evasion, Always

    Ghosting may be common, but it’s not benign. And while I’ve done it (more than once), I’ve also learned that it’s often a reflection of internal burnout, fear, or cynicism—not cruelty.

    But we can do better. We can date better.

    Not by being perfect, but by being aware. By choosing clarity over comfort. By remembering that every profile we swipe on is a real person with hopes, fears, and a heart that deserves kindness. Ultimately, we are looking for love, appreciation and a sense of connection.

    So, to everyone I’ve ghosted, I’m sorry. Not just for the silence, but for assuming you wouldn’t care. For using detachment as protection. For forgetting the humanity behind the screen.

    And to anyone struggling with the messy world of online dating: you’re not alone. And you’re not broken. You’re just trying to find something real in a world that often rewards pretending and external validation.

    Keep showing up. Keep being honest. Keep being you.

    Even when it’s awkward.

    Even when it’s scary.

    Especially then.

  • The Power of Finding Love Without a “How To” Formula

    The Power of Finding Love Without a “How To” Formula

    “Know all the theories, master all the techniques, but as you touch a human soul ,be just another human soul.” ~Carl Jung

    For years, I poured myself into learning about love, relationships, and personal growth. I read every book I could get my hands on, signed up for countless classes, and surrounded myself with affirmations, tools, and techniques that promised me the keys to love. I was on a mission, convinced that with enough knowledge, I could finally unlock the door to a successful, fulfilling relationship.

    But no matter how much I learned, how much I transformed my mindset, or how many positive affirmations I repeated, the pieces never quite fit together the way I expected them to. The advice seemed sound, and the changes I made felt empowering—yet when it came to matters of the heart, the answers were often elusive.

    Despite my best efforts to engineer a perfect love life, I had been trying to control something that ultimately falls beyond any framework, theory, or technique.

    In that moment of realization, I finally understood the true meaning behind Carl Jung’s words. Although he originally used this quote in his work as a psychologist, highlighting the importance of connecting with others on a profound, human level, I now see how deeply relevant it is in romantic relationships. I needed to meet myself on a human level before I could meet others.

    Love, much like life, cannot be mastered through intellect alone. It’s not about perfecting a set of rules or following a specific formula—it’s about surrendering to the mystery of being human together, with all our imperfections and strivings.

    The Pursuit of Perfection

    When I first set out on my journey to “become the one” or to “attract the one,” I was searching for the magic formula that would guarantee my ideal relationship. I believed that if I mastered the right mindset, practiced positive thinking, and applied the latest dating strategies, love would be inevitable.

    But somewhere along the way, I began to lose sight of the fact that love is not a destination—it’s an experience. And that experience doesn’t unfold because I’m the most polished version of myself; it emerges when I allow myself to be authentically human.

    Inadvertently, I became misdirected, shifting from living in the moment to striving to solve a puzzle. The irony was that in my pursuit of perfection, I grew more disconnected from my true self. I wasn’t seeking a genuine connection with another soul; I unconsciously focused on proving to myself that I could solve this.

    The Limitations of the “How-To” Guides 

    The more I studied, the more I realized that everything I learned about love came from the perspective of doing. These guides, books, and seminars taught me how to behave, think, or feel in order to attract or maintain love. But none of it resonated with the most important aspect of love: being.

    Love cannot be controlled by a set of principles or techniques. We cannot engineer chemistry, force someone to be the right partner, or create lasting connection through willpower alone. And that’s where I went wrong.

    No matter how much I pushed, tweaked, or optimized myself, something was always missing. And that missing piece wasn’t about improving or refining myself—it was about surrendering to the mystery of love.

    What I needed was a genuine connection to my own heart—raw, messy, vulnerable, and human. It’s about stepping away from our minds and allowing ourselves to engage with each other, body and soul, as the beautiful, complex beings we naturally are.

    Learning the Book Intelligence, But Bringing My Body Along

    I spent years absorbing the wisdom of books, thinking that knowledge would be the key to unlocking love. But while my mind was soaking in all this information, my body was still trailing behind, stuck in old patterns. I realized that no amount of intellectual understanding could transform those deeply ingrained emotional and physical responses.

    And so, I began to lean into them.

    I began to acknowledge my compulsions—those deep, visceral urges I had to seek out drama, romance, and even toxicity. I recognized how I had often fallen into a pattern of addiction to love, driven by an unconscious need to feel validated or to save someone else in order to feel worthy.

    What I came to realize is that we are all, in some way, on the spectrum of addiction shaped by our culture.

    This time, instead of fighting or ignoring those patterns, I chose to work with them. I stopped trying to intellectualize everything and started to listen deeply to my body. I allowed myself to sit with the discomfort—to feel the tension, the longing, the ache—and explore the deeper emotions behind these patterns.

    It felt like I was standing on the edge of the deepest, darkest caverns of my soul, this little girl peering into them, unsure of what I might find. But I knew that to move forward, I had to face what lay within, no matter how frightening it seemed. I allowed myself to feel beyond the fear, pushing past the reflexive bracing that usually stopped me before. Slowly, I began to make peace with them, acknowledging that these were parts of me that needed compassion and companionship.

    By accepting and tending to my body’s responses, I started to shift the emotional energy that had previously held me captive. The more I worked with my body’s sensations, the more I realized that true healing in love doesn’t just come from the mind; it comes from integrating the mind, body, and heart.

    Addiction and the Conditioning of Love

     One huge piece I began to understand as I worked through these emotional patterns was that we are often primed by the world around us to seek out high-intensity emotional experiences, particularly when it comes to love. Our modern world, especially the fast-paced nature of dating today, has trained us to want immediate gratification—both emotionally and physically. We live in such a sensory-driven world that we might not even realize the degree to which we are conditioned to seek intensity in every moment.

    It was like I needed to treat my emotional healing and body healing as a twelve-step process, detoxing from the patterns of seeking quick fixes and instant validation, and instead, focusing on building something deeper and more sustainable.

    It was only when I fully embraced those emotions, instead of avoiding or rushing past them, that a shift occurred. Yes, intellectually I knew the difference, but I had to work with the pulls of my nervous system differently. My body was responding to the signals of “connection” in these instances, but I needed a new discernment about what I was really feeling.

    I began to understand that the addictive pull of romance, drama, and excitement was not the same as true connection. True connection takes time and effort to build—it requires patience, vulnerability, and trust, rather than the constant chase for external validation and peak experiences.

    The Mystery of Divine Timing

    As I began to untangle myself from the addictive cycles of modern romance, I came to realize something even deeper: the magic of divine timing. The pull of romantic desire, with its highs and lows, was no longer the driving force in my life. Instead, I began to see that the beauty of love is not in the chase, but in the quiet, mysterious unfolding of life.

    Divine timing has a way of making us appreciate the journey, the waiting, and the uncertainty of love in a way that we cannot predict. We cannot force love, rush it, or manipulate it into being.

    But when we allow ourselves to be—when we integrate the mind, body, and heart—we create space for the kind of connection that truly resonates with our soul.

    There is sadness in this mystery, yes. The uncertainty, the longing, the waiting—these are all part of the human condition.

    But there is also aliveness in it.

    It is this space of not knowing that teaches us to love harder, to trust deeper, and to embrace the present moment as it is.

    Divine timing is not about waiting passively, but about trusting that when the time is right, love will find us. And when it does, we will be ready—not because we’ve perfected ourselves or our circumstances, but because we’ve learned to lean into the process, to feel every moment deeply, and to trust that love will come when it’s meant to.

    Letting Go of the “How-To” and Embracing the “Being”

    There’s a profound difference between pursuing love through strategies and opening yourself to love by simply being yourself. The former can leave you drained and disconnected from your authentic self, while the latter allows space for genuine connection to flourish naturally.

    When I let go of the idea that I had to do something to make love work, I started to experience relationships in a completely new way. I learned to trust the ebb and flow of connection, allowing the journey to unfold as it was meant to.

    I also began to see love in a more mindful way—no longer limited to romantic love, but as something multidimensional and all around me. Those tender moments of pure kindness, warmth, or generosity from anyone, anywhere, reminded me that I am a human being, not a human striving.

    As I reflect on the lessons I’ve learned, I see that being a “human soul” means embracing the unknowns of life—especially in love. No amount of preparation or knowledge will guarantee a perfect relationship.

    What matters most is that we show up as our true, vulnerable selves. And when we do, love will find us—not as a result of our efforts to attract it, but because it’s part of the natural flow of life.

    Simply Be Human 

    Carl Jung’s words ring truer now than ever: we can know all the theories, master all the techniques, but at the end of the day, we must allow ourselves to simply be human. Being a “human soul” also means allowing others to be human souls too—seeing their messiness with grace, accepting their flaws, and not trying to mold them into something they are not.

    It’s about embracing the beautiful chaos of being human, both in ourselves and in others. The journey toward love isn’t about achieving perfection or solving a puzzle. It’s about being present, trusting the process, and embracing vulnerability. It’s about letting go of the need for control and trusting in divine timing.

    The irony is all the “how-to” guides and strategies for love can only take us so far. At some point, we need to move beyond following instructions and allow ourselves to experience love fully—raw, unfiltered, and human, from the inside out.

    I’ve found a deeper connection happens when we integrate our heart, mind, and body—when we stop compartmentalizing and let all parts of ourselves be present.

    It’s about feeling deeply, thinking honestly, and being grounded in our physical experience. When we show up with this kind of alignment, love is no longer something to chase or achieve but something that flows naturally from within.

    I think it’s beautiful—almost transcendent—to think about love this way, as something that exists in the rawness of our true selves, not in some idealized version of who we think we should be or a checklist to be marked, but the power of connection and the incredible expansion it brings when it happens.

  • From Awkward to Authentic: How to Show Up as Your True Self in Love and Life

    From Awkward to Authentic: How to Show Up as Your True Self in Love and Life

    “Don’t make yourself small for anyone. Be the awkward, funny, intelligent, beautiful little weirdo that you are. Don’t hold back. Weird it out.” ~Unknown

    You know that moment when you’re mid-conversation, and your brain throws up a flashing neon sign that says, “Abort mission! Abort mission!”

    Meanwhile, you’re left replaying your words like a bad karaoke performance, cringing at every note.

    Or when you’re swiping through dating profiles and mutter, “Why does everyone here look like they’re auditioning for a toothpaste ad?” We’ve all been there. Here’s the thing… we’re so darn busy trying to present a polished, “perfect” version of ourselves that we forget to actually be ourselves, and that’s where the magic happens. Really!

    Authenticity isn’t just some woo-woo concept; it’s scientifically proven to make you more magnetic! When you show up as the real you, things start to shift—in a good way. Let’s ditch the awkwardness and get real, like, laugh-at-your-own-texts and wear-mismatched-socks real.

    A few years ago, I found myself staring at my reflection, frustrated by the need to always have it all together.

    I’d perfected the art of appearing confident, but inside, I felt disconnected from myself, from others, and even from love. That’s when it hit me—my constant reacting to situations, trying to please people, and molding myself into what I thought would be attractive was working against me.

    First, I stopped reacting and started being proactive. Instead of waiting for people to validate me, I took ownership of how I wanted to show up.

    I made sure my actions matched my words. (That’s the true definition of authenticity after all.)

    If I said I valued deep connections, I wasn’t going to hide behind small talk anymore.

    If I said I was looking for a meaningful relationship, I wasn’t going to waste my time with people who were just looking for something casual.

    Then, I gave my dating profile a reality check. No more vague “I love travel, laughter, and good company” fluff.

    I got specific about who I was, the good, the quirky, and the deal breakers. I made it easy for the wrong matches to filter themselves out before we even got to the first date.

    The result? Instead of random, lukewarm connections, I started attracting men who actually got me…

    Me! The real me! Men who read my profile and thought, “Yes! This is my kind of woman.”

    And you know what? It worked. (Insert my no rhythm happy dance)

    My advice? Get clear on your ‘you-ness.’ What makes you you? Is it your laugh-snort combo? The way you know every word to a nineties boy band song? Whatever it is, own it.

    Authenticity isn’t about being flawless; it’s about being aligned with your values and showing up in a way that feels true. Vanessa Van Edwards calls it your “connection currency,” and trust me, it’s priceless.

    Think of your values as your personal Wi-Fi signal. The stronger it is, the more clearly the right people will find and connect with you. No buffering needed.

    Jot down three values you live by, whether that’s kindness, humor, or never skipping dessert. Now ask yourself: Am I living them loud and proud, or are they stuck in airplane mode?

    Ever felt like you’re auditioning for America’s Got Talent on a first date?

    Nobody’s handing out trophies for Most Impressive Overthinker. The harder you try to impress, the more disconnected you’ll feel. People connect with realness, not rehearsed lines or “look-how-cool-I-am” antics.

    The right people don’t need you to dazzle them. They need you to make them feel comfortable. So, lean into being a little awkward; it’s endearing.

    Remember, connection over perfection!

    Next time you’re meeting someone new, replace “What if they don’t like me?” with “What if I don’t like them?” Now you’re the main character. How good does that feel!

    Here’s a fun fact: Your body language speaks before you do. Slouching and crossing your arms? You might as well wear a sign that says, “Don’t talk to me.” Meanwhile, open, confident body language says, “I’m approachable, and I know where the snacks are.”

    Master the “power pose” before any big moment. Stand tall, hands on hips, channel your inner superhero. Two minutes, and you’ll feel unstoppable (or at least like you can handle small talk).

    Nobody connects over surface-level fluff. People want stories that make them feel something, whether it’s a belly laugh or an “OMG, me too” moment. Share the time you accidentally texted your boss instead of your crush or how you once tried to “play it cool” and tripped over your own feet. Vulnerability wins.

    Vulnerability doesn’t mean oversharing. It means inviting someone into your world, not dragging them into your emotional baggage claim.

    If you’re ever in doubt, ask yourself: Would I enjoy hearing this story? If yes, share away. If no, maybe save it for your diary.

    Perfection is overrated. (And exhausting, to be honest.) Did you spill coffee on your shirt before a date? Laugh about it. Did you accidentally wave at someone who wasn’t waving at you? Congratulations, you’re human. Studies (and common sense) show that people find you more relatable when you own your imperfections.

    Think of your quirks as your personal brand. The spilled coffee? That’s your logo. The laugh-snort? Your tagline. Embrace it. It’s unforgettable.

    My first attempt at online dating was like trying to start a campfire in the rain—awkward, messy, and definitely not warm. My profile had over-filtered photos (hello, Insta face!) and a bio that could’ve been written by an HR bot. It attracted matches, sure, but none who actually matched me. I was looking for MY person.

    Then I stopped trying to be someone else and just showed up as myself: goofy, outdoorsy, and a little obsessed with Nutella. My bio became a reflection of my real personality, and my photos were candid moments that made me smile. It worked. The real, authentic matches started rolling in… real, warm, lovely men! Yes, they exist.

    Showing up as your true self doesn’t mean you’ll click with everyone, and that’s the point. Authenticity isn’t about being liked by the masses; it’s about finding your people (or your person) who love you for you.

    So, go ahead, wear the mismatched socks, tell the terrible joke, and let your quirks shine. Because when you’re real, the right people don’t just notice you; they remember you.

    Because your quirks aren’t just lovable… they’re magnetic.

  • 5 Unexpected Ways to Find the Right Mate

    5 Unexpected Ways to Find the Right Mate

    “Your new life is going to cost you your old one. It’s going to cost you your comfort zone and your sense of direction. It’s going to cost you relationships and friends. It’s going to cost you being liked and understood. It doesn’t matter. The people who are meant for you are going to meet you on the other side. You’re going to build a new comfort zone around the things that actually move you forward. Instead of being liked, you’re going to be loved. Instead of being understood, you’re going to be seen. All you’re going to lose is what was built for a person you no longer are.” ~Brianna Wiest

    Over a transformative two-year period, marked by deep inner work and self-discovery, I stumbled upon a series of steps that helped me find a fulfilling partnership—steps that go far beyond attachment theory.

    My life essentially followed the cycle of the phoenix: First, it went up in spectacular flames before emerging more aligned than ever. I had to step into total darkness before seismic shifts brought me back to lightness.

    I hope that my story helps you navigate your own journey on the quest for love and a long-term partner. This journey is highly personal for everyone, so while this blueprint might not be the exact match for you, I hope it points you in the right direction.

    Before we dive in, I’d like to explain what attachment theory is and why I never found it helpful for me personally.

    What Is Attachment Theory?

    Attachment theory, developed by psychologists John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, explores how our early relationships with caregivers shape our behavior in adult relationships.

    According to attachment theory, there are three primary attachment styles:

    • Secure Attachment: Comfortable with intimacy and independence, secure types can express their needs openly without fear of rejection.
    • Anxious Attachment: Anxious types crave closeness and fear abandonment, often seeking constant reassurance and becoming hyper-vigilant to signs of disconnection.
    • Avoidant Attachment: Avoidant types prioritize independence and may distance themselves emotionally, feeling suffocated by intimacy.

    Attachment theory is often used to explain why certain people seem drawn to the same relationship patterns, particularly the classic anxious-avoidant dynamic. Anxious types seek reassurance, which pushes avoidant types to withdraw, reinforcing each other’s deepest fears.

    But here’s the catch: While understanding your attachment style can help you make sense of your relationship patterns, it may not offer the practical solutions you need, especially in the long term.

    While it was helpful learning that I was an anxious attachment type, even five years in therapy was not enough to encourage me to choose someone secure. Ultimately, while attachment theory offered clarity on why I repeated certain patterns, it wasn’t the key to finding the fulfilling relationship I craved.

    Things finally began to shift when I let go of the life that no longer fit. Each unexpected event was like a domino, toppling the old version of myself to make room for something new. Interestingly, it all started with a journal.

    How Writing Reveals What You Really Want

    Most of us know we should get clear about what we want in a partner, but how many of us have actually written it down? I certainly hadn’t.

    That changed when, on a complete whim, I picked up a workbook called Single Is Your Superpower. It struck me as cheesy, but there’s something about using pen and paper that taps into deeper, subconscious thoughts—far more effectively than just thinking things over in your head.

    Flipping to a random page, I came across a prompt asking me to write down the top five qualities I wanted in a mate. At first, I rolled my eyes. It seemed too simple to be “deep” and transformative, but I did it anyway.

    I thought I already knew what I was looking for: humor, spirituality, shared values, ambition. But what surprised me was the number one quality that surfaced: emotional availability.

    That insight was a game changer. I realized my previous focus on finding someone ambitious had been attracting people with demanding careers—partners who often leaned toward avoidant.

    That’s not to say you need to avoid ambition in a partner. Far from it! What matters is getting clear on the qualities that truly matter to you so you can see beyond surface traits. I began to ask myself different questions:

    Are they ambitious but still present?

    Do they carve out time for things they enjoy?

    Or do they use ambition as an excuse to stay emotionally distant?

    These questions became the new lenses through which I viewed potential partners.

    That’s when things shifted. With this clarity, I started attracting emotionally available people, and for the first time ever, I wasn’t fighting with my partners. I wasn’t caught in the anxious-avoidant tug-of-war.

    And it all started with pen and paper. So even if you think you know what you want in a partner, I challenge you to get out a piece of paper and write it down. Find some powerful journal prompts and let your desires unfold in ways that just might surprise you.

    Don’t Let Other People Judge or Belittle Your Desire for Love

    As my dating life began to shift for the better—less conflict, more meaningful connections—I still hadn’t found someone that I wanted to commit to long-term.

    By the time I hit thirty, the pressure around my biological “window” to start a family became more tangible. Sharing this with two close friends, however, often left me feeling unsupported. Comments like “You have plenty of time” or “Why are you so afraid of being alone?” dismissed the real emotions I was grappling with.

    The truth was, I wasn’t afraid of being alone. Sure, loneliness can be uncomfortable, but I had already done the inner work to address those feelings. My desire for a partner came from a much deeper place—a calling to build a family, to share my life with someone who shared that vision.

    What I realized is this: When you’re being vulnerable and communicating your true desires, and you still feel the need to defend yourself, you’re not in the right environment.

    It’s vital to surround yourself with people who not only respect your journey but understand that your longing for love is a strength, not a weakness. Trust yourself, trust your desires, and never let others make you question your path, especially when it aligns with your core values.

    This shift in perspective laid the groundwork for me to make some difficult but necessary decisions later on. It taught me that we need to be selective about the voices we allow to influence our most vulnerable desires.

    Pursue Any Type of Self-Discovery Work That Calls to Your Soul

    A year prior to these struggles, I participated in a robust coaching program centered around identifying my core values, mission, and life purpose. I never expected to articulate what became one of my more important, guiding core values: being supportive of others and feeling supported by others.

    The truth was, I no longer felt supported in those friendships I mentioned before.

    While this was happening, I was also considering a career pivot. I consulted with an astrologist to see if my birth chart had any implications for my career. On this adventure, another unexpected steppingstone emerged.

    My astrologist told me that I was well-suited for a career in leadership. She also could not help but divulge, “You also have a very strong calling toward motherhood, and you will find a unique way to balance work and family.” Woah.

    I found this enormously validating because it affirmed what I already knew to be true: I didn’t want a mate just to fill the void or because I feared being alone. Rather, I was feeling pulled by a deep calling: to start a family.

    On one level, this was merely an affirmation of what I already knew to be true, but when we’re on a journey of self-discovery that’s peppered with occasional self-doubt, supportive modalities can be enormously helpful.

    For me, it was values-centered coaching and astrology. For you, it might be therapy, tarot, journaling, or some other form of self-discovery. Follow your intuition and lead with curiosity.

    Start with Subtraction, Not Addition, to Manifest the Right Partner

    As my two close friends increasingly filled my life with judgment and subtle criticism, I began doubting myself around them. Our paths and values were diverging (or was I simply gaining clarity on what was already happening?) making our interactions more draining than enriching.

    Despite my distaste for loneliness and the fact that I don’t have many close friends to begin with, I knew it was time to make a hard choice. With intentions of honoring my values and boundaries, I decided to distance myself, intentionally creating a significant void in my life.

    This void was both authentic and, at times, filled with panic. During low moments, I’d catch myself thinking, “What have I done?!”

    However, in moments of true alignment, I knew letting go was the right decision. This newfound space in my life led me to ponder, “Who do I know that emanates positive energy? Who do I want to surround myself with?”

    The first person that popped into my head was a colleague that I had worked with remotely for a little over seven years. He lived in Canada while I lived in California, so I sent him an email asking if he wanted to hang out virtually. He enthusiastically obliged, and we became fast friends.

    Then, one day, he hopped on a plane to California, and we became best friends. Little did we know, that was the beginning of forever—because now we’re married.

    While I didn’t know it at the time, manifestation often starts with subtraction. It’s easy to assume that attracting the right mate is about addition, but manifestation is as much about creating space as it is about filling it.

    Trust That Each Bold Step Is Preparing You for What’s Next

    Looking back on the choices I made, I’m profoundly grateful for the voids I dared to create in my life—despite the panic they caused sometimes. Aligned decisions aren’t always easy, but by staying true to my core values, I knew I was making the right choices.

    In hindsight, the path seems almost simple: Get clear on your desires (with pen and paper!), cut away what no longer fits, and trust that your life will unfold with each intentional step. But while you’re living it, it can feel like an endless, clumsy fumble.

    The truth is, at every step of this journey, I was filled with doubt, yet I kept moving forward. And each step prepared me for the person I was becoming.

    In the end, the empty spaces we create by letting go of what no longer serves us aren’t just voids—they’re opportunities for transformation. These spaces inspire us to take aligned action and build something brand new.

    Remember, your new life may ask you to leave behind more than just old habits—it may cost you comfort, approval, and the familiar sense of who you used to be. But on the other side of that transformation is something far greater: relationships that truly see you, a life that deeply fulfills you, and a future that you were always meant to step into.

    Follow your intuition, embrace the unknown, and allow yourself to build a new life from the ashes of the old one.

  • Love Isn’t About Being Chosen

    Love Isn’t About Being Chosen

    “Feeling safe in someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy. That feeling of peace and protection is really underrated.” ~Vanessa Klas

    The first time I said, “I love you” to a romantic partner, I was met with silence.

    Nine months into what I believed was a deep, mutual relationship, I felt certain we were on the same page. But when the words left my mouth, he froze. No words back. No reassurance. Just silence. The next thing I knew, he disappeared for weeks, leaving me sitting in the wreckage of my own vulnerability. I was left questioning everything—why had I shared so much? Why had I opened my heart, only to have it shut down?

    In that silence, I created a story about myself that followed me for years. I convinced myself I wasn’t worthy of being loved in return, that there was something inherently wrong with me. This belief seeped into every relationship afterward. I started waiting for the other shoe to drop, convinced love was something I had to earn instead of something I deserved.

    In college, the pattern continued. I dated someone who treated me like a backup plan. The days he chose me were filled with excitement, butterflies, and joy—but those days were few and far between.

    Most of the time, I was left waiting by the phone, hoping to be picked. When he didn’t, I was once again questioning my worth, wondering what I had done wrong. The cycle became so familiar, I didn’t even recognize it anymore.

    What I didn’t realize then was that by showing up in relationships this way—allowing myself to be the back-burner girlfriend, staying timid in my love, my confidence, and my desires—I was teaching others how to treat me. I was telling them, through my actions, that I didn’t expect more, that this was enough. But it wasn’t enough. Deep down, I knew I deserved more, but I didn’t yet believe it.

    I carried these same patterns into my first marriage, thinking if I just worked harder and gave more of myself, maybe, just maybe, he’d love me the way I longed for. But love isn’t about fixing someone, and it certainly isn’t about fixing yourself. Yet for so long, I believed it was. I convinced myself I’d finally be enough if I could just perfect myself, become the ideal partner.

    But after eleven years, I knew I couldn’t keep sacrificing my joy for a relationship that wasn’t right, so I left—not because I had all the answers, but because I knew I couldn’t stay.

    It wasn’t until I found myself in my therapist’s office after my divorce that things began to shift. I thought I needed to fix what had been broken in me by my ex-husband, that my brokenness was why love had failed.

    One day, I walked into therapy, slapped my hands on my thighs, and cheerfully exclaimed, “I just want to be happy!” Who was I kidding? I treated happiness like a box to be checked off, a goal to master. But my therapist, in her quiet wisdom, simply said, “It doesn’t work that way.”

    I was furious—triggered even. How dare she tell me it wasn’t that simple? But deep down, I knew she was right.

    You can’t force your way into happiness, and you can’t fake your way into feeling whole. I had spent so much of my life trying to fix others and mold myself into someone worthy of love that I hadn’t stopped to consider that maybe I was already enough. But I had to understand why I kept showing up in relationships with people who couldn’t love me in return.

    Why was I choosing emotionally unavailable men? Why was I so convinced that I was the problem?

    I see these patterns in myself and in many others. One of my clients once sat across from me and said, “Molly, I’m a hard woman to love.” Those words stuck with me. I could see the weight of that belief in her eyes—the years she’d spent carrying it.

    I asked her, “When did you decide that? When did you start believing you were hard to love?”

    She paused, and we began to dig into her story. There were moments when she hadn’t been chosen, when she felt she had to earn love through perfection and pleasing others. She brought that belief into her marriage, shaping how she showed up. She was defensive, always expecting rejection, and that created a wall between her and her partner.

    It was a self-fulfilling prophecy—believing she was hard to love made it so. Through her healing, she realized she wasn’t hard to love; she was lovable just as she was.

    Her story mirrored my own. I had spent so many years believing I had to earn love and prove my worth. In doing so, I allowed relationships that were far from what I truly wanted. I didn’t know it at the time, but by being the back-burner girlfriend and staying small in my desires, I was setting the standard for how I would be treated. I was telling myself and others I didn’t deserve more.

    But here’s the truth: we are all worthy of love. Not because of what we do, not because of how perfect we are, but simply because we are.

    That realization didn’t come easily for me. It took years of peeling back the layers of limiting beliefs and asking why I kept settling for less. But when I finally understood that I was worthy of deep, committed love, everything changed.

    After my divorce, I made a promise to myself. I wasn’t going to settle again. I sat down and wrote a list of twenty-two things I wanted in a partner. Not because I was trying to create an impossible checklist, but because I needed to get clear on what I truly valued. I needed to hold myself accountable so that I wouldn’t fall back into old patterns.

    That list became a reminder of my worth, a reflection of what I deserved. I had to hold myself to this to be sure that I didn’t somehow convince myself that four out of twenty-two would do.

    Then, I finally met my current husband.

    We met in our local grocery store. I kept passing him in the aisles and finally got up enough courage to stop him in the cleaning aisle, of all places. We small-talked for a few minutes, and I walked away both equally excited and embarrassed about my boldness.

    We had both been through divorce, so we cautiously entered this new relationship, but before long, we were building something real. Something grounded in truth, in mutual respect, in love that didn’t feel like work. And as we grew closer, we began to heal—both individually and together. He wasn’t perfect, and neither was I. But what we had was real, and that was deeply beautiful.

    I remember one moment in particular, early in our relationship. He suggested that I start weight training, and immediately, I felt defensive. The old story came rushing back: “He thinks I’m not enough. He doesn’t like the way I look.

    But instead of letting that story spiral, I did something different. I took a lesson from the beautiful author Brené Brown and told him, “The story I’m telling myself is that you don’t like my body.”

    His response? Pure love. He reassured me that it wasn’t about my appearance at all; he had recently listened to a podcast about women’s bone health and the benefits of weight training. He was thinking from a place of love about my long-term health and our future together.

    That conversation could have gone a completely different way if we hadn’t chosen to be vulnerable, to trust each other enough to speak our truths. It could have gone differently if I had let my narrative spiral and never opened up the discussion.

    That’s what real love is. It can be messy, it’s imperfect, and it’s also so easy—when it’s right, it doesn’t feel hard. The beauty is in the vulnerability. The beauty is in realizing that the hurt we’ve carried and the walls we’ve built weren’t ever really about us, and that journey is what brought us together.

    The back burner, the infidelity, the lies, the waiting to be chosen—that was never about me. It was about them. It was about their journey, their walls, and their fears. And once I understood that, I was free. Free to love without holding back. Free to accept the love I had always deserved.

    If you’re reading this and you’ve felt that same sting of rejection, that same pattern of being put second, I want you to know this: It’s not about something you’re lacking. It never was. The hurt you’ve experienced doesn’t define you. You are not unlovable. You are not broken. You are worthy of a love that sees you fully, that cherishes every part of you.

    But first, you must see it in yourself. You have to believe that you deserve more. You have to make that list—whether it’s twenty-two things or just one—and hold yourself to it. Not because you’re waiting for someone to complete you, but because you know you are already complete, and you want to share your amazing life with someone.

    And when that love comes, it will be everything you’ve been waiting for. Not perfect, but real. And in the end, that’s all that matters.

    Because love—real love—isn’t about being chosen. It’s about choosing yourself first. And when you do that, everything else falls into place.

  • Why People Ghost and Advice for Coping (or Stopping)

    Why People Ghost and Advice for Coping (or Stopping)

    “Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” ~Rumi

    A few months ago, someone I had dated briefly seven years ago reached out to apologize for his past behavior.

    Many of us know how being ghosted can evoke a mix of frustration, bursts of anger, and an underlying sense of utter powerlessness. Degrees of intensity can vary, of course, depending on the depth of the relationship and personal circumstances. This was not one of those heart-wrenching cases, and in a way, an apology seemed excessive. I had long forgiven and forgotten.

    Nonetheless, I almost immediately realized I was wrong: He still felt it was essential to address how he had ended our brief involvement by abruptly cutting off all communication.

    As he talked, I realized that we shouldn’t dismiss someone’s efforts to do “the right thing” or downplay the fact that we’ve been mistreated, even if we don’t care anymore or even if it didn’t seem that bad at the time. Recognizing and valuing these gestures of reconciliation nurtures a culture of accountability and healing.

    During the first stages of our conversation, I could see the effort and difficulty; it was awkward and strange but also kind of fun—some moments were genuinely hilarious! Since then, I spent a lot of time thinking about this experience because of its uniqueness, and ultimately, I consider it one of the highlights of my year.

    Perhaps unsurprisingly, getting such an apology has also made me value this person a lot more. I started thinking of that behavior as exceptional, which, in turn, started a new line of thought: Shouldn’t this be the norm? Don’t we want to hold ourselves and our friends to higher standards? Is ghosting bad? Is our reaction to it bad? Of course, we all know how “convenient” ghosting is, but isn’t it also really embarrassing for the ghoster?

    (Note that I used the word “ghoster,” not “ghost,” to discuss behaviors without implying they are unchangeable aspects of a person’s identity. This distinction is important because it avoids labeling individuals in a way that suggests permanence, thus allowing for the possibility of growth and change.)

    It’s one of those “the king is naked” things; we all, and I mean ALL, see through it. So, what’s underneath it? And why do people do it so much?

    • Fear of confrontation: Many people find direct confrontation uncomfortable or anxiety-inducing, so ghosting allows them to avoid the discomfort of having a potentially awkward or difficult conversation.
    • Lack of accountability: In some cases, avoiding the conversation and disappearing makes it feel like you’re not accountable for your actions because, to the ghoster, ghosting has no immediate consequences. It’s a seemingly easy escape route.
    • Emotional avoidance: Some individuals go through phases where they lack the emotional tools to handle relationship endings or difficult situations maturely. Ghosting becomes a way to avoid dealing with their own emotions.
    • Reduced empathy: Ghosting allows you to feel even more remote, making it easier to dismiss other people’s feelings and the impact of your actions. Digital communication exacerbates this detachment, as the lack of face-to-face interaction diminishes your sense of empathy and connection to the person being ghosted.
    • Overwhelm response: Sometimes life gets overwhelmingly hectic, and people react in clumsy, often unconscious ways. They might ghost friends, family, or partners, not even realizing why. It’s a misguided attempt to simplify things when everything feels too much to handle.

    Alright, so we’ve thrown around some ideas about why people might ghost. Now, let’s talk about what we can do with this insight. Whether you’re the one doing the ghosting or the one left deciphering silence, here are some tips that could help navigate these tricky situations.

    A Gentle Reminder for Those Critical of Themselves

    Before anything else, let’s get something out of the way. For those who are critical of themselves, for those who feel they don’t even deserve an apology, for those who feel worthless due to the ghosting behavior of a partner or a friend, it’s crucial to remind yourself that you are not the problem.

    Yes, there might be something about your actions that your ghoster is not in alignment with at the moment; you might have some faults, but nothing is proportioned to the lack of recognition and invisibility that being ghosted imposes on a person. That is never warranted.

    Other people’s actions reflect their own inner state; they’re not a measure of your value. Your self-worth remains untouched and undiminished by external actions. Recognize that you are fundamentally worthy, regardless of how others treat you, and live up to your worth.

    Strategies for the Ghoster

    If you find yourself ghosting someone, it’s important to be aware that you’re indulging in a behavior that needs to be temporary. It’s crucial not to stigmatize yourself in the moment but also to realize that ghosting is a reflection of a lack of alignment between you and other people, the world, and your own emotions.

    Instead of feeling self-righteous or beating yourself up, or worst of all, cycling between these extremes in a relentless loop, consider giving yourself a time limit. You might not be able to handle the situation right now, but you need to commit to addressing it within a set timeframe.

    Avoiding difficult situations means missing out on important moments. While friends might not always call you out on this behavior, consider this advice the gentle nudge you need. Acknowledge not only that your ghostee might not deserve this treatment but also that you don’t deserve it.

    Setting a time limit might be an easy way to get a little breather, knowing that you’ll handle it. There is another Alan Watts saying that I particularly enjoy: “The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.”

    Ultimately, you shouldn’t act differently just to make other people feel better. Instead, you should act differently because you deserve to feel better and because with your actions (and thoughts and emotions), you’re adding to the world. What do you want to add?

    Strategies for the Ghostee

    If you’ve been ghosted, here are a few things to keep in mind to navigate through this experience.

    First, avoid becoming self-righteous or harboring anger or resentment. Being ghosted often leaves you feeling hurt, invisible, and incredibly frustrated. It’s natural to want to lash out, driven by a deep need to be acknowledged. Sometimes, anger can feel like a powerful antidote to the helplessness and depression that ghosting can trigger. So, if you’re feeling helpless, reaching out to anger can be a way to regain a sense of control, and if anger is helping you cope right now, that’s okay. Embrace it as a necessary step in your emotional journey.

    However, there will come a time when moving past anger and resentment is crucial for your growth. As Malachy McCourt said, “Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

    Second, avoid toxic positivity. Sure, I just said avoid harboring negative emotions, but you don’t have to pretend everything’s sunshine and rainbows either. Pretending that it doesn’t hurt isn’t going to do you any good. We can safely acknowledge that it hurts if it does. But remain honest with yourself and keenly aware of all the nuances of how you feel. Sometimes your ego is more hurt than your heart.

    Third, focus on activities outside of yourself. When you’re feeling down, upset, or angry because someone you care about has ghosted you, shifting your focus outward can be incredibly therapeutic. It might sound cliché, but devoting your time and energy to activities that aren’t centered on your own problems can distract you and even help rebuild your sense of self-worth.

    When we obsess over our own issues, we tend to narrow our focus to a tiny part of the universe. By engaging in hobbies, helping others, or immersing yourself in new projects, you expand your perspective and find a renewed sense of purpose and fulfillment. Think of it as mental stretching—include more of what feels good in your focus.

    When you’re ready, try to see ghosting not as a reflection of your worth nor as an inherent trait of the person ghosting you, but rather as a reactive moment—a spasm—from someone grappling with their own unresolved issues. And know that this experience can lead to emotional growth if you use it to better understand yourself and your own wounds and triggers. This shift in perspective can help you release the hurt and begin to heal.

  • 3 Healthy Love Lessons for Survivors of Trauma and Abuse

    3 Healthy Love Lessons for Survivors of Trauma and Abuse

    “Maybe it’s time for the fighter to be fought for, the holder to be held, and the lover to be loved.” ~Unknown

    Growing up, I had no reference whatsoever for what a healthy relationship looked like. My parents had me as a result of an affair. I was estranged from my father for a decade or so, and I spent my childhood with my mother and my stepfather. And both were far from healthy.

    I remember vividly this one day they got into a verbal fight. Things got so heated that he angrily threw her a glass of wine at her as she approached the door to go to work.

    Fortunately, the glass hit the wall as my mom closed the door, laughing at my stepfather’s failed attempt to hurt her. I, a little girl, stayed behind to clean up the mess and deal with my stepfather’s rage. Since he could not aim it at her now, he had no problems aiming it at me, hitting and abusing me my whole childhood.

    To add to the mix, we lived a very isolated life; I would never hang out at my friends’ homes or have people over until my mom finally decided to leave him. I was seventeen when we nervously packed our bags and secretly ran away, leaving my stepfather behind.

    Because of the abuse and isolation, I was pretty unaware of other family dynamics. You may laugh at me, but since I had nowhere else to look, sometimes Brazilian telenovelas were my main source of information.

    When I think about it, there’s this particular day that comes to mind.

    I see myself, a skinny little black girl with short, relaxed hair, sitting on the floor, watching a telenovela with my mom and two brothers while dreaming of a telenovela-like, loving relationship. I recall the main characters on screen passionately declaring their love for each other. My eyes sparkled in awe, hoping that that would be me one day.

    I don’t know if my mother would notice how hopeful I looked, but she would bring my hopes down to zero by reminding me that that did not happen in real life.

    Good times, ay? Nowadays, I laugh about it while living my telenovela-like relationship, minus the toxicity characteristic of these shows. I’m so happy she was wrong!

    For years, though, I believed I did not deserve love and that no one would ever want to have a long-term relationship with me, and that got me into a cycle of unhealthy, loveless relationships.

    Luckily, as I started healing, I realized this was not true. It was just something the adults in my life taught me when I was a child, with words and actions. Let’s get real; I didn’t have the best examples growing up.

    But as I always say, just because you didn’t have good examples growing up, that doesn’t mean you can’t be the example.

    Still, I had to be honest with myself. Although I was open to a healthy, long-term relationship, I had no idea how that worked, so I knew I had to start from scratch. And let me tell you: I learned some invaluable lessons on this journey, and I cannot wait to share them with you.

    #1. Your relationship with yourself will dictate the type of relationship you attract.

    I didn’t realize I was still treating myself the way my abusers used to treat me until I was almost thirty years old. Before this realization, my self-talk was atrocious: I would call myself stupid, ugly, dumb, weirdo… As I said, atrocious. On top of that, I’d deny myself things, sabotage all chances of real success, put everyone before me, and bully myself all day long.

    I later learned that even though we tend to do these things in the intimacy of our thoughts, they inevitably show up in all areas of our lives. For example, people with bad intentions see we don’t have self-respect, so they step in and disrespect us. Self-centered individuals notice our lack of boundaries, and guess what they do? Yes, they cross the line over and over.

    I’ve learned the hard way that others will treat you the way you treat yourself. So, when you’re looking to have a healthy long-term relationship, the first step is healing the relationship with yourself.

    #2. Boring is good.

    I’ve noticed that most of the time, when survivors like me talk about being bored in a relationship, we’re not actually talking about being bored; we’re just unfamiliar with peace and “normality.” This was something I definitely experienced.

    I remember being confronted with this feeling on a particular day; nothing special happened, but I felt weirdly uneasy while walking down the street. My survivor’s brain immediately started thinking something was wrong; I started screening my mind for problems and things to worry about. And then it hit me: I was just feeling peaceful and calm. There was absolutely nothing to worry about, and that’s healthy and okay. I was simply not used to it. At all.

    When it comes to relationships, if we’re used to unhealthy patterns and make them the norm, it feels strange when things are good. That’s why we may try to look for problems and things to worry about in our relationship when, in reality, everything is okay, because we don’t realize that’s what healthy feels like—peaceful.

    Of course, if you’re really bored and there’s no love, that’s a different story. But I think it’s worth doing a check-in just in case our brain is trying to trick us into sabotaging true, healthy love to make us go back to the “familiar,” which, for many of us, means unhealthy.

    I know how crazy that sounds, but trust me, our brain thinks all familiar things are good, and it takes some time to reprogram it. I feel like this is an excellent opportunity to start doing the reprogramming work. What do you think?

    #3. Healthy love is easy.

    As someone who grew up watching toxic relationships in telenovelas, endured abuse, and also suffered from society’s pressure and influence, I used to firmly believe that love was hard, painful, a struggle, and that it took work. A lot of work.

    I spent half of my life chasing butterflies in my stomach, only to realize the butterflies were actually anxiety because my now-ex-partner didn’t make me feel safe.

    Today, if there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s that healthy love is easy, and it flows. Yes, you’ll have challenges, but the whole relationship does not feel like a struggle.

    I promise you, you’ll know healthy love when you see it, especially after you start healing the relationship with yourself and begin looking for peace instead of trauma-related emotions.

    Do you know the feeling of carrying the weight of a relationship? It’s not going to be there in a healthy partnership. The same goes for questioning your partner’s love and dedication to you and the relationship.

    But here’s the thing: We can only experience this if we start healing and stop wasting time in unhealthy relationships.

    You see, the chances of finding someone incompatible with you are infinite, and of course, you will encounter some interesting characters. The secret lies in not wasting your time there. Keep moving. True, healthy love is around the corner!

    I hope this inspires you to welcome and nurture true love and healthier relationships and not let your past experiences tell you what you can or cannot have.

    You are worthy of a beautiful, fulfilling, and loving relationship. Let it in.

  • Embracing Rejection Helped Me Love Dating and Meet My Husband

    Embracing Rejection Helped Me Love Dating and Meet My Husband

    “Every time I thought I was being rejected from something good, I was actually being redirected to something better.” ~Steve Maraboli

    I think most single people these days dream of meeting someone “in real life.”

    The fantasy is that in “the real world” it’ll be easier.

    I dated BA and AA. Before apps and after apps.

    The sad truth is that technology changed the game whether you’re on apps or not.

    The life skill of walking up to someone in a bar and starting a conversation out of thin air has vanished. The ability to be the receiver of that conversation without the safety net of a screen followed close behind.

    I’m from a small town where everyone says hello to everyone, but do that in the city, and people jump back like you’re an apparition.

    Dating apps are hard, but meeting someone in real life just might be harder.

    You need to be confident enough to walk up and chat with anyone, let everyone know that you’re single and want to be set up (even your work colleague Sue from accounting), and be ready to be rejected to your face.

    It’s a classic “grass is greener” scenario.

    The reason people hate apps so much is because of the rejection, the sheer volume of it.

    You’ll get rejected less in real life simply because you’re probably rarely meeting anyone to get rejected.

    Reframing rejection helped me meet my husband.

    I’d been single for years after leaving a toxic relationship. Sure, there were a few relationships here and there, but like a sitcom with low ratings, none of them lasted too long.

    I worried I’d be swiping left and right forever. I was stood up at 10 a.m. on a Saturday at a Melbourne landmark, I’d been ghosted, and I was constantly rejected.

    I felt the need to bend and shift myself and rewrite my Bumble bio just to be chosen.

    I was born with intuitive abilities, meaning I can see, hear, sense, and know things that others can’t. I always wondered at what point should I share with someone that I know they have a strained relationship with their dad or their boss at work can’t be trusted.

    Obviously, I’d never word it this way. But essentially, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. People don’t love the idea of dating a human lie detector.

    You might wonder, why tell people? Well, these abilities are my work; they are a massive part of who I am. So it’s pretty unavoidable. It’s like Chad not telling me he works in finance. Or trying to hide the fact I have brown eyes.

    I tried sharing about my abilities early on the apps, or on first dates, or third dates. All to avoid rejection. Thinking I could somehow change the outcome as to whether someone accepted me or not.

    I hated the feeling that something that was a big part of me was being made fun of, or deemed weird, or even that it just wasn’t ‘for someone.’

    This fear of rejection was preventing me from meeting the right person.

    I was wasting SO MUCH time trying to please the wrong people, cloaking myself, and not being authentic. It meant that anyone interested in who I really was would never find me. The real me was nowhere to be found.

    When I shifted my perception of rejection, dating became so much easier and, dare I say, enjoyable!

    I almost encouraged rejection. I put my true self out there and held nothing back—not in a creepy share-every-intimate-detail-about-yourself-on-a-first-date kind of way; I just wasn’t filtering or scared to scare anyone off.

    I had the new mindset that rejection saved me time and energy for the right ones. Rejection freed me up. Rejection was a normal part of dating; it wasn’t a ‘just me’ thing.

    Cut to: I met my husband. Our first date was non-stop talking about everything from J Cole to Arrested Development, to exploring life’s big questions like Where do people go when they die? We got married two years later.

    Just the other day over brunch at our local café we reflected on how embracing rejection changed everything when it came to dating.

    My husband has a disability and could have let that hold him back from putting himself out there. I could have been completely discouraged from countless ‘failed’ dates. But thankfully, we kept going.

    If you’re reading this and you feel deflated by the dating process, but you really want to meet someone, my hope is that you don’t give up.

    Someone out there is looking for you, just as you are, and what a shame it would be if you were nowhere to be found.

  • Someone Who Can Stay Kind

    Someone Who Can Stay Kind

  • 5 Things to Remember When Heartbreak Feels Too Heavy to Bear

    5 Things to Remember When Heartbreak Feels Too Heavy to Bear

    “If you feel like you’re losing everything, remember that trees lose their leaves every year and they still stand tall and wait for better days to come.” ~Unknown

    For a big lover like me, heartbreak has always gotten the best of me. I have felt heavy pain from the ending of a relationship, the ghosting of a situationship, and the loss of what could have been with someone I never dated. And I’ve experienced the sting of friendships leaving my life.

    It’s all heartbreaking.

    It starts with a crippling, piercing full-body agony. And eventually it grows into a dull ache and lethargy toward anything.

    That’s because heartbreak can throw you into a type of withdrawal. And it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

    When I was going through my last breakup, I felt like I lost a piece of myself. I felt like this person had taken my heart and ripped it apart. I was in a confused state, wanting them badly back in my life and yet wanting nothing to do with them ever again. I had to teach myself how to process my day without communicating with my ex.

    As it turns out, this is all a very normal part of going through heartbreak.

    Breakups, whether romantic or platonic, are like a death. In fact, we process the stages of grief during a breakup similarly to losing someone who dies. And sometimes it feels even more cutting, because we know that person is still living and existing. Just without us.

    While it’s important to feel all the feelings that come with heartbreak, it’s equally crucial to plant seeds of hope, as there is something better waiting for you on the other side.

    Going through a breakup is a transformative experience of shedding old layers and welcoming new ones. You are growing and learning from these emotions.

    While I was going through this particular breakup, I developed deeper emotional resilience and empowerment. The weight on my heart gradually lifted as I alchemized the lessons and self-reflection to remind myself of the following things.

    1. You are not alone.

    When you’re in the heat of heartbreak, it can feel as though everyone else around you is doing just fine and you’re the only one who is suffering. And the sudden absence of someone you cared about heightens the loneliness.

    But I know without a doubt that you are not alone. Everyone has dealt with what you’re going through right now (just take me as an example!). And there are likely people in your networks who are currently going through it. Take some time to reach out to people you trust or seek out events that will help foster connection. It’s okay to ask for help.

    2. You broke up for a good reason.  

    When my heart was aching for my ex and any sign of him coming back, I had to remind myself that we broke up for a good reason.

    He wasn’t prioritizing or respecting me consistently. I had to stop romanticizing the moments of brief happiness and look at the longer-term picture. We were fundamentally incompatible and not bringing out the best in each other. If we continued to try to make it work, it would feel as if we were dragging our feet in the mud.

    All relationships will bring up their own unique challenges, but I want to be with someone who I can feel safe to tackle them with.

    If you feel the urge to get back together or if they are trying to get back into your life right away, write down the positive reasons for this breakup to give you a healthy perspective.

    3. They never completed you. You are whole and complete as you are.

    Even if you don’t feel okay right now, you are still whole and complete. The people that come into our lives, whether as friends or romantic partners, complement us. But they never complete us.

    Thinking that we need someone to complete us or be our better half is a fairy tale misconception. And it convinces us that we’re not enough, especially if someone leaves us behind.

    But the fact is, you are enough. You might want a romantic relationship, and that’s natural because we all need connection to thrive. But you can live a full, satisfying life even if you’re single right now.

    While deep love can be experienced between you and other people, the deepest love will first come from you. Take the driver’s seat of your life and steer it. Anyone else that comes along is joining the road trip.

    4. This relationship was not a waste of time.

    When we’ve invested a lot of time, energy, and resources into relationships, it makes the breakups that much more painful. You might think that you’re back at square one, but it’s the opposite.

    And often this investment makes us stay longer than we should.

    There’s a term in psychology called “sunk-cost fallacy,” which perfectly describes this phenomenon. It’s when you are reluctant to walk away from a course of action after heavily investing in it, so you continue to invest even though there’s a more desirable option.

    Ultimately, the most desirable option in my situation was to walk away so I could stop trying to prove my worth to someone who didn’t see it.

    I could have looked at my relationship as a waste of time, but instead I saw it as an important example of what I didn’t want in my next relationship. I’m now grateful toward my ex for the growth and experiences gained, even though the relationship ended.

    It also helped me look at my relationship with myself so that I can show up for my life with more self-esteem and confidence. And I believe that has gotten me further ahead rather than behind.

    5. You will feel your sparkle again.

    Happiness doesn’t start and end with your past relationship. You can feel happiness after them. As you heal and focus on new things that excite you, your life will become more vibrant and abundant. And I promise, you will feel like yourself again.

    Give it some time and pour back into yourself. Invest in new skills or hobbies, spend time with your community, and reconnect to your future goals.

    Breakups are often a portal for our next highest chapter. Walk through this door believing the best is yet to come—because if you believe amazing possibilities are ahead of you, you’ll do your part to help create them.

    —

    Feeling heavy emotions after a heartbreak is a part of the healing process. And it will ebb and flow. Even though healing isn’t linear, it’s always happening.

    Get curious and show yourself more love and reverence. You owe it to yourself to heal from this. Because there’s something more painful than a broken heart. And it’s a closed heart. I would rather continue to love big and get hurt at times than not love at all.

  • 3 Lessons on Finding Love That I Learned When Looking for My Soulmate

    3 Lessons on Finding Love That I Learned When Looking for My Soulmate

    “Your soulmate is not someone who completes you. No, a soulmate is someone who inspires you to complete yourself.” ~Bianca Sparacino

    For years I was in what seemed like an endless search for my soulmate—someone who would understand me, love me unconditionally, and share my values and interests.

    It felt like I needed someone in my life to feel happy, fulfilled, and whole.

    I went on a handful of dates, but I got friend-zoned at times, rejected at others, and ended up with the wrong people the rest of the time.

    What pained me the most was how I repeatedly ended up with people who were emotionally unavailable, uninterested in a committed relationship, or simply weren’t a good match for me. And I couldn’t understand why. At some point, I thought I was just unlucky in love.

    In retrospect, however, it was in some ways my fault. I wasn’t unlucky in love; I sucked at dating and relationships because my life sucked.

    What does that mean?

    If I had focused less on finding a partner and more on becoming the kind of person I wanted to attract, my dating and love life would have been a lot easier.

    After I worked more on myself and cultivated the positive qualities I wanted in a partner—such as kindness, compassion, authenticity, and self-love, as I worked on healing my past wounds and releasing the limiting beliefs that were holding me back—my love life changed for the better.

    And now, I’m living the dream with the love of my life, Sandra, who I met in my senior year in college.

    Focusing on who I was instead of what I wanted helped me attract a compatible partner, and I’ve become a better version of myself as I’ve continued growing over the years.

    You Need to Take More Responsibility

    People often say, “You’ll find love when you’re not looking,” but I’ve always believed that a closed mouth doesn’t get fed.

    This is why I was so proactive in searching for a romantic partner for years.

    But in the wake of countless disappointments, I completely gave up and adopted a more passive approach, telling myself that the universe would either deliver me a soulmate or not.

    For months, I quit putting myself in situations where I was likely to meet like-minded people. I asked fewer love interests out, went on fewer dates, and tried to hold onto obviously wrong relationships (more on that later).

    I got more and more disillusioned with dating and relationships. Sometimes I thought I just wasn’t ‘destined’ to find ‘the one’; other times I told myself I just had to wait until the universe handed me my ‘perfect mate.’

    I left everything to God, fate, or destiny, which gave me something to blame for my disappointing love life, when I should have been taking responsibility for what I could control instead of focusing on what I couldn’t.

    Life will probably not hand most of us our ‘perfect mates,’ which means unless we’re proactive, we’ll most likely miss out on opportunities to connect with others who could be good matches for us.

    That’s why I believe we should put ourselves out there in the dating world. We can do this by using online dating apps (even though they can be frustrating), attending social events, joining clubs or groups focused on our interests, and being more open and approachable.

    Cliche, I know, but better than living passively and waiting for some supernatural forces to bring the ‘perfect partners’ to us.

    No, You Don’t Need to Reorder Your Life to Find Love

    I used to be obsessed with finding a soulmate who would not only complete me, but also enjoy a fairytale romance with me.

    I was so fixated on finding ‘the one’ that I had to reorder my life around my search.

    I even resorted to changing my personality to fit what every one of my then-love interests would want in a partner.

    I sacrificed a lot just to ensure I was in a relationship, and I didn’t realize how much of myself I was losing in the process.

    Now, I no longer bend my life to make room for or be loved and accepted by someone else.

    Because when I did this and eventually got into relationships with the people who I thought were the ‘best partners’ I could ever wish for, it often ended in pain and tears.

    We weren’t even close to compatible. We either had different goals or our personalities clashed more often than not.

    With each heartbreaking breakup, it was obvious (to everyone but me) that I had given up too much of myself and compromised too much to make things work.

    It can’t be ‘true love’ if you have to sacrifice yourself in the process of finding and keeping it.

    Don’t Force a Connection that Isn’t There

    The inconvenient truth is that we can’t change reality just because we don’t want to accept it.

    You might be putting a relationship on a pedestal and choosing to ignore obvious issues because you want to believe someone is perfect for you—maybe because you’re tired of looking, or because they seem like a good fit, and they just have to be ‘the one.’

    But what if they’re not ‘the one’ because they don’t want to be?

    When this happens, we might try hard to convince ourselves that someone is our soulmate even when they don’t reciprocate our feelings or treat us well, and generally act in ways that contradict their profession of love for us.

    As a hopeless romantic to the core, I’ve met a few people who I strongly thought were the ones for me. But the one that had the most negative effects on me was the last girl I dated before I met Sandra.

    She was smart and beautiful and had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world.

    But as time went on, things started to seem different than I had expected them to.

    It wasn’t because I had unrealistic expectations, unless it’s unrealistic to expect my partner to at least minimize canceling plans at the last minute or to care about my feelings.

    Despite all of this, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was my soulmate and that we were meant to be together. I thought of her behaviors as a temporary phase and told myself things would get better if I just held on.

    Sound familiar?

    One big lesson I learned is that the people we’re so bent on convincing ourselves are our soulmates are actually the wrong people for us.

    Because we all deserve someone who’ll appreciate us for who we really are.

    To find that kind of love, we have to focus on being the kind of people we want to attract, take more responsibility for meeting new people (without sacrificing ourselves to hold onto them), and never settle for less than we deserve. When we do these things, we stand a better chance of finding that special love we’ve been hoping for.

  • Dealing with Unrequited Love: How I Started to Let Go and Love Myself

    Dealing with Unrequited Love: How I Started to Let Go and Love Myself

    “If you don’t love yourself, you’ll always be looking for someone else to fill the void inside you, but no one will ever be able to do it.” ~Lori Deschene

    I was a simple girl who met a complicated boy and fell in love. It was unrequited. I loved him with all my heart for six months, and acted like a teenager with her first crush. It was humiliating. I did things that I should never have done—the incessant texting, calling, arranging meetups, and what not.

    Embarrassment doesn’t even cover the emotions I feel now. There is also a lot of guilt and pain.

    When I was kid, I learned by watching my parents to sacrifice myself and show up for others before myself.

    Gradually, my sense of self become entwined with others. I only felt worthy when I served a purpose in someone’s life, and otherwise, I didn’t think I mattered much.

    Every little thing became focused on other people—how I behaved, how I dressed, how I worked. I would mindread, try to control how people perceived me, and stretch beyond my limits to show up for people who probably never even cared about me.

    That is exactly what happened with the boy I loved. My life became all about him—what he said, what he never said. I was waiting for a proposal that was never going to happen. My mind had created all these stories about a fantasy relationship that would never be and was constantly lost in a daydream.

    Instead of loving myself, I was pouring all my time and energy into someone else. My family and friends knew what was happening, and they told me I needed to accept that he didn’t love me back, but I didn’t listen to them. I was on a high, addicted to the dopamine rush of seeing him and talking to him.

    One day, I suffered a nervous breakdown and cried. The boy I loved would never love me back. It was emotionally traumatizing, both for me and my family. The heart of it was my need for validation from someone else.

    It was hard for me to accept the fact that he would never love me. I wanted him. I loved him so much. Why couldn’t he see my love for him and love me back?

    It’s been one year since I’ve talked to him. My heart still beats a little faster when I think about him or see him.

    For a long time, I was ashamed of how I’d obsessed over him and pursued him. Sometimes I wish that I hadn’t met him. He was the beginning of a dark and depressing change in my personality. I was so sad. I couldn’t eat properly, sleep properly, think properly.

    I blamed it all on myself. It triggered a sense of worthlessness. I wasn’t good enough for his love, for him. I cried a lot. More than I should have.

    It felt silly. To cry over someone who doesn’t even know what you’re going through.

    For a long time, I didn’t forgive myself. I would wallow; I was in pain. I’d always struggled with low self-worth and self-esteem, and the pain of a broken heart was too much for my already broken self to handle.

    I had placed my worth in someone else’s hands instead of my own. I was cruel to myself, constantly criticizing myself and putting myself down, all because of a boy. I had been abandoning myself and treating myself far worse than I treated others. My mind was suffering; it felt rejected.

    But thankfully, support from the right people and therapy slowly helped me figure out what was going wrong and forgive myself.

    Therapy helped me rediscover myself. I was no longer the girl who placed her self-worth in someone’s hands.

    It also helped me recognize that my obsession was more about me and my issues than him. I already didn’t feel good enough; his rejection just magnified it.

    It was a gradual process, and at first, it was a little scary. I was fundamentally changing myself and rewiring my personality, learning to treat myself with kindness and compassion. Letting go of my old self wasn’t easy, as I had been so used to the pain and heartbreak.

    But I was patient with myself, and it paid off. I conquered my demons, and slowly, gradually, fell in love with myself.

    All of this happened last December and one year later, I can finally say that I’m letting go.

    It hasn’t been an easy journey. There are days when I don’t treat myself kindly. There are days when I still place my worth in someone else’s hands and expect them to ease my self-hatred and guilt and make me feel good enough. There are days when I end up sacrificing myself for people, but those are outnumbered by the days when I look at myself with loving kindness.

    There are far more days when I take care of myself instead of focusing on someone else who probably doesn’t care about what I’m going through.

    I have finally forgiven myself for all that happened. I look at the past and I wonder how I survived. I am far stronger and more resilient than I thought myself to be before, and now I can show up for myself, hold myself together, and be there for myself.

    I look at myself in the mirror and feel proud of coming so far. I love myself, and I’m not ashamed of what happened. Unrequited love teaches you a lot: It teaches you what you’re looking for and what you don’t want in someone.

    I know my worth, and I know that the right person will love me the way I deserve to be loved.

    But most of all, I know that I will love myself the way I want to be loved. I no longer look at myself with hatred. The pain of my heartbreak comes and goes, but I know I’m strong enough to handle whatever life gives me.

    I’m happy after a long time, and I want to hold on to this happiness and cherish all the good memories I’ve made.

    I have collected all my broken pieces and created art, writing down my thoughts and emotions, and also, appreciating all I’ve gained through my struggles has helped me work toward forgiveness and acceptance.

    Unrequited love can be a blessing because it gives us an opportunity to practice loving ourselves.

    Loving someone is hard but unloving someone and pouring all your love into yourself is even harder. It doesn’t happen overnight. Self-love is a journey, and it has its highs and lows, but it is worth it.

  • How to Love Mindfully When You’re a Socially Anxious People-Pleaser

    How to Love Mindfully When You’re a Socially Anxious People-Pleaser

    “It’s okay to care about what people think. Just know there’s a difference between valuing someone’s opinion and needing their approval.” ~Lori Deschene

    My date—an attractive student in her twenties—talked away excitedly, but all I could think of was this:

    “How can I make her like me?”
    “How can I impress her?”
    “How can I make her laugh?”

    I agonized over every word that I said, every response from her, every moment of our interaction, and I poured every single detail that I could find—or imagine—under the microscope of my mind… and all of a sudden, the date was over!

    As we said goodbyes and as I walked out of the cafe, I recalled the conversation. Wait. What did we talk about? What did I say?

    To my horror, all I could remember were my anxiety-filled thoughts. I said the wrong thing! She frowned! I mumbled! It got even more awkward!

    At that very moment, I felt trapped in a hell of my own. And I had no idea how I’d ever get out.

    For years, I would remain stuck in the seemingly eternal loop of social anxiety and romantic failure.

    I was mostly unsuccessful in sparking new romantic connections. Even if there were sparks of chemistry, they fizzled out by the end of the first date.

    And when I did have a girlfriend? I sacrificed my needs to please her in any way possible, which led to me eventually resenting the relationship and lashing out (which I’m not proud of at all).

    Desperate for change, I embarked on a multi-year journey of learning and reflection.

    I read dozens of books on relationships and communication. Took multiple mindfulness courses. Journaled and meditated daily. Sought advice from a therapist.

    After four years, here are the four things I’ve learned about loving mindfully, with less worry.

    Loving mindfully is about accepting your insecurities.

    Whether it’s feeling not successful enough, not rich enough, not smart enough, or not attractive enough.

    What’s your biggest insecurity?

    That might just be at the heart of your social anxiety. And when you’re socially anxious, you’re more sensitive toward judgment—especially if it’s about your deepest insecurities.

    For example, if you’re feeling insecure about your looks, a passing comment on your pimple might feel like they are critiquing your entire appearance. The anxiety amplifies the criticism, making it a lot louder and stronger in your mind.

    The stakes? When you aren’t aware and accepting of your insecurities, they can shape the entire dynamic of your romantic relationship. When you don’t feel worthy of love, you might engage in excessive people-pleasing and even hide your true personality.

    Tara Brach, a celebrated clinical psychologist and meditation teacher, calls this the Trance of Unworthiness. In her words:

    “Basically, the familiar message is, “Your natural way of being is not okay; to be acceptable, you must be different from the way you are.”

    When in this trance, we are living in an imprisoning perception of who we are. When strong, our beliefs and feelings of deficiency prevent us from being intimate and authentic with anyone; we sense that we are intrinsically flawed and others will find out. Because the fear of failure is constant, it is difficult to lay down our hypervigilance and just relax. Instead, we are consumed with hiding our flaws and/or trying to be a better person.”

    My biggest insecurity was—and still is—that I’m not successful enough. As a result, I’d say and buy things to please my partner, since I felt that I had to “win” their affection and make up for my inadequacy. When I shared this with Raz, a close friend of mine, she said something profound:

    “You can still date while becoming more successful.”

    The power of what she said is psychological flexibility: accepting your insecurity and your desire to improve without shying away from romance. Rather than an “either or” story, you focus on a  “this and that” story instead.

    Loving mindfully is about accepting disagreement and disappointment.

    For socially anxious people-pleasers like me, disagreement and disappointment can feel like relationship-ending threats. If your partner or date disagrees with you, you might see it as a sign that they dislike you or that you need to change your opinion.

    For example, if you love dancing and your date says, “Nah, I would never try dancing,” you might start thinking, “Are they hinting that we aren’t a good match?” You might even backtrack on what you said: “Actually, I don’t like dancing that much.”

    As a result of your fear of disagreement and disappointment, you avoid conflict, and you often become overly accommodating. Over time, you lose your sense of self in a relationship. You’re no longer the full, vibrant you, and that’s a tragedy, isn’t it?

    I know all this too well, because this was my default mode of interaction for years. Rather than being an equal romantic partner, I became a servant to my partner’s needs and preferences. Now, I’m learning to be okay with letting others down and accept that I will feel bad doing so.

    The truth is, even the best relationships experience disagreement and disappointment. And the reason is simple: no one can 100% agree with each other or meet each other’s needs all the time.

    Loving mindfully is about accepting and respecting their choices.

    Here’s how Hailey Magee, a codependency recovery coach, defines codependency:

    “Codependent relationships exist between partners who rely predominantly on each other for their sense of value or purpose. People in codependent relationships tend to neglect themselves while overprioritizing their partners’ values, needs, and dreams. The result? A painful and tangible loss of self.”

    Sounds kind of like people-pleasing, if you ask me.

    In fact—based on my experience, at least—there’s a lot of overlap between people-pleasing and codependency. When you’re a people-pleaser, you put your romantic partner’s needs above yours, and your happiness depends on their happiness.

    In my case, I took excessive responsibility for my girlfriend’s feelings and problems. If anything wasn’t going right in her life, I tended to assume fault and went out of my way to make her feel better.

    Over time, I learned that love isn’t about helping your partner solve their problems or feel good all the time. Support and encourage them as needed, but never become their babysitter. What does that mean?”

    • Not ‘fixing’ their feelings, as Dr. Aziz Gazipura, a clinical psychologist, would say. (I highly recommend learning from him, by the way.)
    • Not giving unsolicited advice (a telling phrase is “you should…”)
    • Not making their decisions on their behalf

    Loving mindfully is about accepting the possibility of a breakup.

    When your partner breaks up with you, it can feel like a blow to your ego—that you’re not as desirable or lovable as you thought. To many, it’s the ultimate form of rejection. You might be so afraid of a potential breakup that you spend all your time with your partner looking for signs it might be coming and trying to prevent it—and then you might end up creating a self-fulfilling prophecy,

    You might also end up settling for a good-but-not-great relationship. As Eliora Porter, a University of Pennsylvania psychologist, suggested:

    “Socially anxious individuals may be more inclined to stay in a less than optimal relationship for fear of having difficulty finding a new partner if they were to end the relationship.”

    So how do you accept the painful possibility that your relationship might end one day? Accept that a relationship doesn’t have to be permanent to be successful. Even if it doesn’t last forever, you can enjoy each other’s company and help each other learn and grow. Adopting this mindset will enable you to get out of your head and appreciate the relationship for what is in the moment.

    Also, see the silver lining in heartbreak. When a relationship ends because you weren’t a good fit, it gives you another chance to find a better match.

    In the past, I stayed in unsatisfying relationships for much longer than I wanted to, as I was scared that I’d never find someone else. So, what changed my mind? Going on Tinder when I was newly single and getting more matches than I thought I would. That made me realize that, “Hey, I’m not that unattractive after all.”

    To sum it all up, mindful love is about:

    • Accepting your insecurities.
    • Accepting disagreement and disappointment.
    • Accepting and respecting their choices.
    • Accepting the possibility of breakup.

    And above all…

    Mindful love is a dance between your needs and your partner’s.

    While you balance both with empathy, you’re always acting from a foundation of self-awareness and compassion—and that’s what gives you the strength in any relationship.

  • Why I No Longer Chase Emotionally Unavailable People, Hoping They’ll Change

    Why I No Longer Chase Emotionally Unavailable People, Hoping They’ll Change

    “Never chase love, affection, or attention. If it isn’t given freely by another person, it isn’t worth having.” ~Unknown

    We met at a bar with Skee-Ball and slushy margaritas for our first date.

    She was gorgeous. I noticed that as soon as I walked in. I still wasn’t sure whether we’d have anything to talk about though. The messages we’d exchanged had been minimal.

    It turned out we did.

    Conversation flowed from one topic to the next—meandering from her passion for biology in college to how I tried to master mountain boarding at summer camp as a kid to how both of us were passionate about writing/putting words to the page.

    I found her articulate, funny, sociable, and down-to-earth. I liked her intellect. Her wit. Her seeming earnestness and appetite for unconventional topics like the environmental benefit of eating insects and sexism in the taxidermy industry.

    She came over to my place after; I cooked dinner for us. Talk got deeper. She shared the effect her dad’s depression had on her when she was a kid; how she’d personalize his quiet moods. I shared some of the instability I’d experienced as a kid.

    The evening ended in a hook-up. Nothing like a good trauma spill for an aphrodisiac.

    A couple weeks later we had another date. I felt similarly elated afterwards. But doubts began to surface before our third; she was acting wishy-washy and noncommittal.

    I talked them away, though, because seeing her filled me with buzzy joy. Our interactions powered me through the week with a buoyancy unlike any that my morning coffee had ever provided.

    So we kept going on dates.

    She’d bring flowers to them. Lift me into the air when we kissed, which I loved. Tell me I was a “really good thing in her life.”

    The last day I saw her, we biked around to local breweries.

    The sun shone against our faces as we sipped from each other’s beers out on the back patio—having what felt like a raw conversation about intimacy patterns and fears. She was working on hers, she said. I acknowledged some of my own in return.

    When she asked if she could kiss me (for the fourth time that day) as we unlocked our bikes, I remember how wanted it made me feel.

    I carried that golden effervescent feeling with me into the next day. It was still with me when I opened a text from her—but  shattered into spiky glass shards when I read what it said.

    That she couldn’t continue seeing me. That she wasn’t in the right place emotionally.

    It’s not you, it’s me.

    We all know the spiel.

    **

    It wasn’t the first time I’d had my heart dropped from the Trauma Tower on top of which a woman and I had been insecurely attaching.

    This woman was just one among several in a pattern. You can call it trauma bonding. A hot and cold relationship. The anxious-avoidant dance. These push-pull dynamics that played out through my twenties had elements of all of these.

    One day the person would open up. We’d connect and it’d feel like I’d really seen them, and they’d seen me.

    The next day they’d pull back (even in the seeming absence of overt conflict). The contrast was painful. The shift felt jarring.

    According to Healthline, “Recognizing emotional unavailability can be tricky. Many emotionally unavailable people have a knack for making you feel great about yourself and hopeful about the future of your relationship.”

    Whenever these situationships crumbled, it would really break me. Feelings I’d hoped to have buried for good would resurrect—among them, doubt that anyone would ever choose to see and accept me fully.

    And yet the “connections” felt so hard to disentangle from once formed. From my perspective, the woman and I often had strong chemistry. Words came easily. We talked about vulnerable things, but could also laugh and enjoy the lighter aspects of life. They were my type physically. The perceived strength of our connection compelled me to stay.

    **

    It took me some time to realize that each relationship of this sort that I remained in spoke to unhealed parts of me.

    Part of the healing I did over the past few years involved looking at the role I played in them. It involved realizing that I too contributed to the cycle—by continuing to give chances to a person who couldn’t (or didn’t want to) help meet my needs.

    I contributed by staying and hoping the situation would shift. That the clouds obstructing their full attention and investment would magically lift. That they’d depart to reveal the sun that was waiting all along to wrap its powerful rays around my heart.

    I contributed by not establishing boundaries. For instance, in one situationship I felt as if I’d become the woman’s therapist, there to reassure her when self-doubts overtook her; to validate her following any perceived rejection by strangers; to coddle her ego when she felt unattractive in the eyes of the male barista who’d just served us our coffee.

    I could have set a limit around how much she confided in or leaned on me. I could’ve communicated that if we were just friends with occasional benefits, then I only had so much bandwidth. That it didn’t feel reciprocal to be her on-call therapist.

    I also could have left at any time. I chose to stay in these situations, though, despite the signs. Perhaps I thought those signs were ambiguous enough to be negotiable. Or that I was just giving the benefit of the doubt.

    Additionally, I chose to look at the women for who I wanted them to be, who they could be somewhere down the line, and who they sometimes were—rather than seeing them for who they fully were on the whole and in the present moment.

    When we see others for their potential, no matter how innocent or well-meaning our willful obscuring of the present reality may be, we pay a cost.

    **

    Inconsistency and unavailability are less attractive to me the older I get and the more that I heal from my past trauma. Game-playing has even begun to repel me in a way it didn’t used to. When a person shows signs of it, I notice my interest starting to wane. Conversely, qualities like consistency and decisiveness, and earnestness are increasingly attractive now.

    In my thirties I no longer find the emotional ups and downs of an anxious-avoidant dynamic sustainable. I want something calmer.

    I hope for a connection that takes a load off—not one that adds more stress to a world already saddled with the weight of so much of it. One wherein we’re both safe spaces for the other. I believe this is what we all deserve, granted that we too are willing to put in some work.

    In general, having a choosier mentality means you may stay single for more years than you imagined—because it’s true that the dating pool bubbles with people whose traumas and defenses are incompatible with our own. I think maybe it always will.

    Still, when I picture all the heart pain spared, it’s an approach that feels right. The thought now of being pulled back into another cycle of fleeting hope and optimism punctured by blindsiding shards of disappointment unsettles me more than the thought of staying indefinitely un-partnered.

    Not only that, it also saddens me. The sadness I feel is for every person ever caught in the same emotional cyclone. I can’t help but think it’s such a tremendous drain of energy. Energy that could be used instead to vitalize both the larger world and our own lives.

    **

    No more will I follow the bread-crumby path to another person’s heart when it takes me so far from the integrity of my own.

    And anyone who’s been through similar experiences—I encourage you to remain hopeful that one day, a person who’s deserving of your love will step into your life and onto your path. Until then, remember you have you. Treasure yourself, treat yourself well, and realize you’re worth more than chasing. You deserve to put your feet up and let someone chase you—or better still, come meet you in the middle.

  • How Sensitive People Can Stop Taking Things So Personally in Their Relationships

    How Sensitive People Can Stop Taking Things So Personally in Their Relationships

    “The truth is that the way other people see us isn’t about us—it’s about them and their own struggles, insecurities, and limitations. You don’t have to allow their judgment to become your truth.” ~Daniell Koepke

    As a child growing up with a highly sensitive mom, I often noticed her go quiet at the dinner table after my stepfather would make some little comment. Looking back, I know he was just tired and a bit grouchy from a long day at work, but my mom felt hurt by his words.

    Over the years, the comments didn’t lessen, but I noticed my mother being less and less bothered by them. They seemed to slide off of her like water off a duck’s back. As a result, my parents seemed to have a lot more fun, laughter, and ease together—and still, forty some years into their marriage, live happily side by side.

    Just like my mom did in the earlier days of her marriage, it’s so common for sensitive people to take things personally–both in our intimate relationships and in general–and for that to make the relationship more painful and less fulfilling.

    Up until seven or eight years ago, I, too, found myself getting easily hurt by things my husband did, or most often, the things he did not do.

    It stung when my husband didn’t seem to be listening when I was talking, when the scenery seemed to captivate his attention more than my heartfelt words, when he forgot to do the thing I’d asked him to do, or when he interrupted me when I was speaking—all of which happened (and still does) with regularity!

    One thing that felt especially hurtful then was when my husband would fall asleep while I was vulnerably sharing deep feelings about our relationship. I felt so hurt by his sleeping, like he didn’t really care about me.

    I’ve known many other sensitive people to take it personally and feel hurt when their partner doesn’t give them verbal appreciation when they do something nice or helpful, or when their partner isn’t as affectionate or openly enthusiastic about spending time with them.

    It is true that many partners do not always act with kindness or consideration. Yet, when we take it personally, the hurt we feel can show, often in how quiet we suddenly get, or in a slightly defensive reaction, or in outright tears.

    As we hold onto that hurt, over time, it takes a toll in our relationship and our emotional well-being.

    If you take things personally often in your relationship, it’s likely to build up some deep resentment and disappointment.

    It can also lead to defensive interactions with your partner, escalating arguments, and withdrawal or criticism from both sides—which only results in even more disconnection between you.

    Eventually, in my own marriage, I realized that taking things so personally was really rough on our relationship. Not only did it simply feel bad to me, but I also didn’t act how I really wanted to in my marriage. When I felt hurt, I would often retaliate with some criticism, like “Talking to you is like talking to a stone wall!”

    Needless to say, that led to more distance, discord, and deep unhappiness between my husband and me.

    So I looked to my mother and her wisdom. What she told me opened the door for me to the power of not taking things personally—and developing a whole arsenal of tricks to help me become someone who hardly ever takes anything personally anymore.

    What a blessing this has been in my marriage, and even in my career, allowing me to feel more confidence and calmness, and to love my hubby—and feel loved by him—more deeply than ever. (Yes, even if he spaces out—or falls asleep!—when I’m talking to him.)

    Not taking things so personally is possible for you, too, and it will allow you to have much more connection and loving intimacy in your relationship–which you were born for as a highly sensitive person.

    Here are six tips to help you, as sensitive person, become someone who no longer takes things so personally in your intimate relationship.

    1. Tend to your stress levels.

    As highly sensitive people, our nervous systems tend to get overloaded more quickly than non-HSPs, due to how deeply we process stimuli.

    This means you will feel more easily overwhelmed and stressed than non-HSPs if you are not attending to your nervous system regularly.

    Interestingly, research shows that when we have higher stress levels, we misinterpret neutral comments from others as criticism, or see their behaviors in a more threatening, negative light.

    In other words, unless you are regularly de-stressing, you are likely to see and experience everything your partner does or does not do in a much more negative way, take things more personally, and feel hurt a lot more.

    That hug your spouse resisted? If you were stressed, it may have seemed like he was actually snubbing you instead of just distracted by the kids. If you had been calm and centered, it would have been no biggy; maybe you would have even appreciated it that he was attending to the kids and taking some work off your hands.

    A huge part of our emotional well-being, and feeling connected instead of feeling hurt, depends on tending to our nervous systems regularly to keep our stress levels moderated.

    Some of my favorite ways of doing so include a medium-paced walk in nature, meditation, coherent breathing, yoga nidra, and dancing wildly or gently in my living room. There are many options. Find ones you like and add them—even just for a few minutes here and there—to your daily routine.

    2. Know your goodness.

    Other people’s words or actions cause a lot of pain when we think it means something about who we are and don’t keep our own good opinion of ourselves at the forefront. Because the hurt we feel from taking things personally actually comes from believing other people’s negative judgments of us.

    In other words, if we don’t feel great about ourselves, whenever anyone else isn’t caring or kind, we can more easily take it to indicate something bad about ourselves.

    When you can hold the clear knowledge of your own goodness in your awareness, you will have a much easier time separating other people’s confused thoughts from who you really are and letting them roll off you like water off a duck’s back. So make sure your opinion of yourself is a good, healthy one.

    For many HSPs this can be especially hard because we have been misunderstood and perhaps treated like something is wrong with us for much of our lives…which can convince us this is true and lower our self-esteem…which makes it even easier to feel hurt when someone says or does something that could indicate disapproval or lack of care about us.

    But as an HSP, you have so much to feel good about yourself for!

    So it’s well worth your energy to spend time actively seeing what you like and even love about yourself. What do you know about the goodness of who you really are? (Need some hints? This post will help.)

    Deeply knowing your goodness will prevent and ease the pain of taking things personally.

    3. Think about your thinking—both yours and your partner’s.

    Our own thinking is the biggest culprit of taking things personally as HSPs. This is great news because it means we can shift our thinking to minimize the pain of hurt feelings.

    As HSPs, we tend to be so conscientious, attentive, and attuned to those we care about, so we unconsciously expect the same from our partner. If it turns out that they aren’t as attuned and caring naturally, we think it means we aren’t as important to them as they are to us, that we aren’t loved, that we aren’t good enough, that we have done something wrong—or are wrong.

    I can’t tell you how many HSP women I know have told me that when their hubby says, in a tone, something like, “What, you can’t give me five minutes to get to xyz?!!” They think to themselves, “Oh no, I’ve done something wrong. I suck.”

    This is what I call a negative misinterpretation. And our HSP brains naturally do this a lot! This negative interpretation is where the pain of hurt feelings really comes from.

    Let’s get a quick understanding of this: For survival reasons, the human brain is wired by default to see and hear things negatively. We unconsciously focus on flaws, on what’s wrong, or missing. This is called the negativity bias of the brain. And HSPs, we have this even more strongly than non-HSPs.

    You can use this knowledge to help you observe when your brain tends to put a negative spin on things—and decide to stop drinking that Kool-Aid. Just because your brain thinks what it thinks, it doesn’t mean it’s true!!

    Can you see how in the above comment, one could have interpreted it to mean many things other than “I‘ve done something wrong. I suck.”? You could interpret it as “He’s having a hard day,” or “He feels pressured.” Which is way closer to the truth than “I suck.”

    Nowadays, when I’m sharing from my heart to my husband and his eyelids start getting heavy with sleep, I no longer interpret it to mean he doesn’t care about me. I see it for what it is: he’s tired after a full day of working to support our family.

    So, when you feel that familiar sting of hurt feelings, step back and notice what your negatively biased brain is interpreting the thing your partner said or did to mean. And get curious about what else might be going on that is closer to the truth.

    4. See it as their inner disconnection or their confusion about you.

    What if your significant other really does say something harsh about who you are—or does something truly mean or negligent?

    Remember, they have a flaw-seeking brain, too, that also sees in a negative way by default. And just because they may be having a negative thought about you doesn’t make it true!

    What’s really happening is they are having a moment of confusion about you, or they can’t see beyond their flaw-brain at the moment.

    The truth is, when someone sees bad in you, or treats you poorly, it is always a symptom of their own inner turmoil and distress. Unloading on you is just an unskillful way of trying to reduce their own inner turmoil. It means nothing about you.

    As my mom wisely said when I asked her the trick to not taking those dinner table comments personally,  “I remember that it’s just his stuff.”

    If you can remember this truth, you may even feel compassion for your partner instead of hurt—and let me tell you how much better that feels! I’ll take compassion over hurt feelings any day. Because it is from there that we are best able to effectively advocate for and create more caring interactions.

    5. Be your own zone of safety and love.

    As you learn to break the habit of taking things personally, you will want to be able to hold yourself through any hurt feelings that still arise with kindness and love.

    This means, instead of trying to avoid the feelings of hurt, learning to be with them in a loving way.

    When they come up, gently move your attention from the spinning thoughts in your mind to how the hurt actually feels in your body. Be curious about the sensations. And hold them with your gentle and compassionate attention the way you would hold a baby bird in your own soft hand—spaciously, with warmth and tenderness.

    It can help to place your hand over your heart area in a gesture of love and care for yourself, and imagine the sensations in your body are soaking up that kind attention.

    As awkward as it may feel at first, by being with your painful feelings in this way, you will move out of them more quickly, and experience much more peacefulness with them as you do. And even experience more love in your life.

    As I learned to make this kind of space for any hard feelings that come up, the most amazing thing began to happen: The hard feelings became a doorway to feeling a deep warmth and a loving intimacy with my own self, and a sense of inner safety I never before knew was possible.

    Now I no longer fear the harder feelings of life because I trust myself to always lovingly support myself through them. Which has made my relationship with myself so loving and strong—and my relationship with my husband much more peaceful and less reactive.

    6. Re-root in love.

    In our committed intimate relationships, what always soothes and heals is coming back to love. First and foremost, love for yourself, and of course, love for your significant other.

    To do so, simply ask yourself: “What is the most loving way to see this?” Or, “What might love’s wisdom want me to know right now?”

    Perhaps the answer will be a reminder of how amazing you are, or to remember your partner is doing the best they can with the skills and experiences they have had, or that the truth is your love for each other is strong enough to weather these less than harmonious moments. Or maybe the answer will be to set strong boundaries for yourself, or even end the relationship.

    But if you come back to love, these harsher moments will be like a tiny, whitecap in a big sea of love—and have very little power to rock you or the depth of you and your partner’s love for each other.

    —

    Please don’t misunderstand that any of this means you should stay with someone who doesn’t care about you or treats you badly. You want to be able to discern whether you’re tolerating things you shouldn’t be and staying with someone who is not good for you or just taking things personally that you really don’t need to be.

    If you’re doing the latter, you can completely transform your relationship by putting these tips into practice. When you do, you not only remove much of what is dragging you down in your relationship, but you also allow yourself to start seeing and feeling more of the love that is already there, which will invite more of it to keep pouring in.

  • How I Stopped Feeling Embarrassed and Ashamed of Being Single

    How I Stopped Feeling Embarrassed and Ashamed of Being Single

    “Be proud of who you are, not ashamed of how someone else sees you.” ~Unknown

    “When was your last relationship?” my hairdresser asked as she twisted the curling wand into my freshly blow-dried hair.

    “Erm, around two years ago.” I lied.

    “Why did you break up?” she asked.

    “Oh, he had a lot of issues. It wasn’t really working out.” I lied again.

    I had gotten quite good at this, lying to hide my shame over being in my early thirties and never having been in a serious relationship. I had learned to think on my feet; that way, no one would ever call me out. The last thing I needed was people’s pity and judgment.

    I sat in my chair thinking about what she might say. Should I have told her that I have never been in a serious relationship? Would she be compassionate or judgmental? Would she feel sorry for me and think there was something wrong with me? That was a risk I was not willing to take.

    I felt so much shame and embarrassment around my relationship status that I would avoid discussions about it at all costs. Or I’d lie or get defensive with family and friends who would bring it up, to the point that they noticed it was a sore subject and would avoid asking about my love life.

    I learned to recognize how shame manifested in my physical body—the anxiety I felt when someone would ignorantly ask when I would be having children, the rapid heartbeat when asked if I would be bringing a plus-one to gatherings, and the knots in my stomach when I would be invited places that would consist of mainly couples.

    The shame I felt around my relationship status had always prevented me from speaking my truth because I was afraid I would be judged harshly.

    I felt like someone with an addiction who was in denial. I was so ashamed that I couldn’t bring myself to say the words “I’ve never had a serious relationship” to anyone, not even my closest friends and family, despite them knowing deep down.

    The Quest to Find Love

    I felt aggrieved that I had gotten to my early thirties without ever being in a serious relationship. The creator didn’t love me; it had forgotten about me. I desperately wanted a loving relationship, as I was tired of being alone, and I wanted to experience true love.

    I had a warped belief that being in love meant that I would feel happier, content, and life would genuinely be easier. After all, this is what we are told in fairy tales—the princess gets her knight in shining armor and they live happily ever after!

    Over the years, I delved into the dating scene, trying dating apps, and keeping an active social life so I could meet people. Time went by, and I dated multiple unavailable men who ran when they sensed I wanted something serious.

    This eventually got tiresome, and it took a toll on my self-esteem and confidence. I felt undesirable and not good enough.

    I couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong! Was I being punished? I was well-educated, with a good career and prospects, and I wasn’t bad looking at all. And more importantly, I was considered kind, outgoing, and friendly by those who knew me.

    Enough Is Enough

    I was exhausted and frustrated and had no more energy left in me to keep looking for a good match.

    I was so fed up with being met with disappointment and feeling bad about myself that I slowly began to give up on love.

    I convinced myself that I would never find the right partner, that I wouldn’t experience the over-glamorized idea of love I had conjured up in my head from early childhood.

    This only heightened my feelings of shame. It told me that not only was I not good enough to have a partner, I wasn’t capable of seeing something through until the end, and I didn’t possess the courage to ‘tough it out.’ Shame told me I was a bad person, unworthy of love.

    Sulking into my pillow on a Sunday afternoon, I had a sudden thought: Maybe it’s not them, maybe it’s you. I got angry at this thought. How could I possibly be to blame? I’ve done nothing wrong. The only thing I am guilty of is wanting to be loved.

    Another thought came: Maybe you can do something to change your experiences. This thought didn’t get me as angry, and after reflecting on it for a day or two, I concluded that I had to take some responsibility for the kind of men I was attracting.

    I took a step back from finding ‘the one’ and put my energy and focus on working on myself. I concluded that most of the qualities I wanted in a man I didn’t even have in myself—for example, confidence and assertiveness.

    Compassion Over Everything

    I learned that shame can be ‘killed’ when it’s met with compassion, so I started being kinder and less critical of myself. I made a conscious effort to avoid negative thoughts, praised myself as often as I could, and tried not to be too hard on myself.

    I confided in my close friends about the shame I felt around my single status, despite it taking much courage to do so. The more I admitted to people that I had never been in a serious relationship, the better I felt and the more I began to accept it.

    Being vulnerable with those I loved was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. What’s even better was that I wasn’t judged harshly or pitied as I anticipated, and instead, I was shown love and compassion.

    I remember telling a new colleague that I hadn’t been in a serious relationship, and she said, “Me too.” My fear of how she would react quickly turned to relief that there were people just like me, that I had nothing to be ashamed of.

    I was, however, choosy about whom I told my story to, as not everyone is deserving of seeing me at my most vulnerable. I knew I had to be careful because if I was not met with compassion and was judged and ridiculed, this could have exacerbated the shame I already felt.

    Love is Love, No Matter Where It Comes From

    I began to realize that love is love, and regardless of my relationship status, I had plenty of it. I didn’t need a partner to feel loved, and love isn’t less valuable because it doesn’t come from a relationship.

    We can be shown love by our friends, family, colleagues, ourselves, and even strangers. This love is just as special and meaningful as the love you experience in a relationship.

    With this in mind, I began to cultivate more self-love in order to boost my confidence and self-esteem. After all, the best relationship I’ll ever have is the one I have with myself.

    I started being kind to myself and saying nice things about myself through daily affirmations. I also accepted compliments when I was given them, took time out for self-care, and put boundaries in place where needed.

    As a result, my confidence and self-esteem grew, and I started to understand my worth and value.

    Letting Go of the Need to Find Love

    Over time, I began to let go of the need to find love. I hadn’t noticed that it had completely taken over every part of my being. I wasn’t closed off to finding love; in fact, I was very open about finding a potential partner. Only this time, I was okay with it if it didn’t happen.

    I let go of the idea that someone would be coming to rescue me, and I concluded that I could be my own hero and best friend.

    I let go of the idea that I needed to be in a relationship to be happy and made a conscious decision to be happy at that very moment. As a result, I began to feel free, liberated, and completely content with where I was in life.

    When I let go, I noticed that the shame I felt around my relationship status had stemmed from fear. I was scared of what people would think of me because I wasn’t meeting the status quo. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to start a family.

    Where I Am Now

    I still haven’t met ‘the one,’ and I’m okay with this. I am now at peace, joyful, and enjoying my life as it is in this present moment.

    I no longer feel the shame I once felt around my relationship status or the fear that I have been left behind. I understand that I don’t have to be ashamed, as there are plenty of others just like me.

    I choose to see my single status as my superpower. I get to use this time to learn and grow. I embrace and appreciate every moment of being single, as I know that when I do get into a relationship (which I will), I will miss moments of being single and having no one to answer to.

    There are, of course, times when negative thoughts and behaviors try to rear their ugly head, but I simply remember who I am and ask myself, “Does this thought or behavior align with what I want or who I want to be?” If it doesn’t, I simply let it go.

    For anyone reading this who’s experiencing feelings of shame and fear because they do not have a partner, remember you’re still worthy single, and you deserve your own compassion and love. Once you give these things to yourself, you set yourself free.

  • 7 Ways Childhood Trauma Shows Up in Your Romantic Relationships

    7 Ways Childhood Trauma Shows Up in Your Romantic Relationships

    “Love is the greatest miracle cure. Loving ourselves creates miracles in our lives.” ~Louise Hay

    When you are unlucky in love, you tend to blame yourself for not being enough and maybe blame fate for not giving you a break already! Everyone else around you is in happy, long-term relationships, but you just can’t get there.

    You might come to the conclusion that there is something wrong with you—you’re too old or too fat—and all the good ones are already married, and you will just die alone! You never think for one moment that your relationship history is playing out a dynamic from childhood.

    I felt like this for thirty-seven years of my life. It was like I kept dating the same man but in different bodies. The way I felt was always the same. Always chasing after someone who was unavailable in some way. Some had addictions, some were in relationships, some prioritized other people, but the underlying feeling was the same. I am not good enough to be loved.

    Other times I avoided relationships all together, or I was the one running away from the ones who did want me, telling myself that they were not what I wanted. In all situations it ended in the same way—me single, feeling incredibly lonely and hopeless. Looking at everyone who could manage a relationship wondering what was wrong with me.

    I continued aimlessly looking for love in all the wrong places, completely unaware of how my childhood was impacting my relationship choices. Thankfully, I began a journey of healing that started by reading and listening to self-help content. I became aware of Pia Melody and the concept of love addiction after reading her book by the same name.

    This relationship behavior I kept repeating was actually a trauma response. I had grown up with a dad who was emotionally unavailable and very much focused on his own needs. Unconsciously, I was finding him in these other relationships. It got worse after his suicide.

    Since then, I’ve learned a lot about how our childhood trauma plays out in relationships. Here are seven ways it can happen:

    1. You are in a relationship but don’t feel loved.

    You are in the relationship you once wished for, but you still feel this emptiness and feel like your partner is to blame. If they did x, then you would feel loved and enough.

    You blame them and they trigger you. But are you expecting the love and care from them that you are not even giving to yourself? Are you filling up your own love so that their love is just a bonus? Are you even noticing the ways they show you love? It may be different to your love language. Maybe things are not right, but are you working on repairing the issues rather than blaming or ignoring them?

    Our first relationships (with our parents or childhood caregivers) teach us about attachment. If your relationship with your parents was sometimes really loving but other times they were cold and distant, you didn’t grow up with love being available and consistent. Which is why relationships can make you feel anxious and you can over-give and feel lonely in a relationship.

    2. You are the fixer in love.

    When you date or even marry, your partner tends to be the broken bird that you are obsessed with fixing. Or they might be a narcissist who is all about their needs and you taking care of them. Either way, you have found yourself in toxic relationships that don’t feel safe or good.

    They could be an addict and you pour all your energy trying to save them while feeling depleted and unloved. You become almost obsessed with how you can save this person you love so much. It’s quite possible you’re repeating a dynamic with one of your parents.

    For example, I very much repeated a pattern of finding men to fix because my relationship with my dad was all about his needs and his struggles with his mental health. I was always saving him, and when I did, I would receive love from him. I thought this was love, so I repeated this unconsciously in other relationships.

    3. You chase unavailable love.

    You spend all your time and energy chasing after someone who is not available in some way. They need fixing, have addiction or family issues, are in a relationship already, or won’t commit to you. But you think of them day and night. You are obsessed with getting them to choose you, but they don’t and this spirals you into despair.

    You just keep trying and sometimes use other addictions to numb the pain. I was addicted to a psychic line at the height of my love addiction with an unavailable man because I was looking for confirmation that we’d end up together. This is what launched my healing journey, as it really did make me feel insane at times, especially when the object of my affection kept coming forward and then running away.

    We often will attract people who are playing out their attachment trauma from childhood with us. Often one that is opposite to us. So if you chase love, you may attract someone who runs away.

    4. You avoid relationships entirely.

    Falling in love feels like too much and it just makes you feel so anxious, so you might avoid relationships entirely and seem to function better single. But the loneliness is intense. You wish you could be held at night.

    You will do things to avoid these feelings, like overwork, take care of others, keep your social calendar super busy, numb with TV, drink all the time—whatever you can do to not feel your feelings!

    If you even attempt to go on a dating app your heart races and you feel terrified. So you run back to your safe single life, wondering what is wrong with you that you can’t even go on a date.

    5. You ignore the red flags.

    The object of your affection does things that don’t feel safe, yet you don’t say anything out of fear of losing them. You have no idea how to set a boundary and ignore warning signs that this person may not be good for you—how they talk to you, put you down, deny your reality, or even get physically violent.

    Since you grew up with a parent that did the same to you, it feels almost normal. Even though your body will tense up around them, you are used to that. You stay too long in relationships that don’t make you feel good, where you get very little. You feel like this is the best you can get, so you focus on the good rather than noticing the bad.

    6. You feel suffocated in your relationship.

    You are in a relationship that feels safe and easy, but then your brain starts to question it all. Am I attracted to this person? Do I feel suffocated by them? Are they the right one for me? You will convince yourself that they are wrong for you and end the relationship, as you have no idea what healthy love even is. It makes you feel so anxious to end up with the wrong person.

    7. You don’t think you can get better.

    You are in a relationship because you don’t want to be alone, but it doesn’t make you happy. But you don’t think you deserve any better. The fear of leaving and being alone feels like too much, so you just stay. Resenting the other person for not making you happy but not taking any action to make your situation better.

    —

    Many of us fall into more than one of these categories.

    Without healing and inner work, we unconsciously play out patterns from the past and stop ourselves from having a fulfilling relationship.

    We can’t even objectively see what is wrong because so much of what we are experiencing in our relationships is based on our past trauma wounds. We don’t know what we don’t know, and if no one  modelled a healthy relationship for us growing up, how can we know what it is ?

    I had no ideas my parents’ relationship was unhealthy because the constant fighting was my normal, so I had no idea I could have something different.

    Romantic love felt stressful for me for many years. I was either pining after them or they were driving me mad. I didn’t know there could be any another way.

    But understanding my relationship patterns and where they came from has been a game changer for me.

    Now, after a journey of healing the past relational traumas with my parents through therapy, books, and support groups, I know how to have healthy love. What changed was I learned how to love myself and care for myself the way I wish others would love me.

    This changed everything…

    As my relationship with myself improved, so did my relationship with men. I am now married, and thankful my marriage is nothing like my parents’. When there’s conflict, we have the tools to move through it and come out stronger.

    We have a strong relationship in large part because I have done a ton of inner work and healing. Unlike in previous relationships, I now know my own worth, and I also know how to express my needs and boundaries with love and kindness.

    I finally took responsibility for my behavior and moved out of victim mode. This changed the relationships I attracted, not just romantic. I now knew how to treat myself with love and respect, and this meant the quality of love I received was healthier as a result.

    Our internal issues play out in our relationships. Once we heal on the inside, everything changes.

    Love yourself the way you wish to be loved by someone else. Notice when your relationship is triggering negative emotions and ask yourself, “What do I need?” Start to give yourself what you need and then you will learn to ask others for what you need. Showering yourself with your own love will change everything.

  • All the Wrong Reasons I Slept with Men Before and Why I’m Changing Now

    All the Wrong Reasons I Slept with Men Before and Why I’m Changing Now

    “We think we want sex, but it’s not always about sex. It’s intimacy we want. To be touched. Looked at. Admired. Smiled at. Laugh with someone. Feel safe. Feel like someone’s really got you. That’s what we crave.” ~Anonymous

    I have not had sex in years. I was meditating one day, and my mind was silent (an extremely rare event), then I heard “Do not have sex until you are married.” Something I heard often growing up as a southern Baptist.

    I started breathing fast, and my thoughts immediately started racing. I am pretty sure I cried, if not in that moment, later on. I felt I had been given clear instructions on what to do to take my life to another level.

    The problem was that marriage was not on my to-do list. I do like the idea of monogamy, but I don’t like the idea of being legally bonded to someone for life. Then, if for whatever reason that does not work out, I have to go through the legal system for my breakup.

    I also thought that would mean I would never have sex again, so my mind was all over the place. Fear had taken over. But then I actually listened to that message.

    The first thing I became clear about was how, on a subconscious level, I was having sex with men before I was ready because I lacked the confidence to say no. I had a fear that if I did not have sex with them, they would not like me or stick around. 

    I also learned that I was using sex to get my needs met. Sometimes I was just lonely and wanted to cuddle or be held, but I would not communicate that. I felt that no one would give me that, so ultimately, I would end up knocking boots with someone.

    I learned that I had a belief that my value was tied to my sexuality. I also learned that when I have sex with someone, I develop a strong attachment to them. I was not able to think clearly. It no longer became about growth or love but about ego. Are they going to call me? Do they like me? I never asked myself if I liked them.

    Although I have no clue as to when I will be sexually active again, I do know this: I have redefined my definition of marriage to one of a spiritual partnership. A union, not legally bound but soulfully bound for whatever time period it flows. And that’s what I’m waiting for now.

    To me, this non-legal marriage is about growth. It is a safe space to evaluate whether or not the relationship should continue. Maybe with a weekly or monthly check in. If it feels right, you keep going forward; if someone decides it’s not working for whatever reason, you move on. People grow and change. Sometimes you grow together, sometimes you grow apart. There is not this underlining pressure to stay bonded to someone your twenty-year-old self attracted.

    A spiritual partnership is a place where it is safe for us to be our authentic selves. We encourage each other, support one another. Explore our sexuality. There is a comfort in telling the other person what feels good and what does not. It is safe to say and share what we think and feel. I think we may find this type of spiritual partnership ends up lasting much longer than most marriages.

    Another lesson I have learned since I received the message about not having sex is that I always thought sex was something that you had to do. I didn’t think a person could function without it. Turns out you can. I have become more familiar with my body and what I like and what feels good to me. I have become more confident and learned that my worth and value is not at all related to my sexuality.

    I have also learned patience, trust, and surrender. We have a tendency to settle because of fear. This is something I want to challenge.

    I want to see what it is like to wait. To be patient and trust that I will form a meaningful relationship in time if I don’t jump on anyone who shows interest in me because I’m afraid of being alone. I have a feeling it will be much more rewarding than I can imagine. 

    I have learned that my body is sacred, that I want to share this with one person and give this to them as gift. I want to wait to have sex until I am in a spiritual partnership not because someone told me to but because that feels right for me. Not having sex helped me learn to love my self, develop my own set of beliefs outside the religion I was raised in, and flourish into someone that I like and respect.

    If you find yourself having thoughts like “Men are always taking advantage of me” or “There are no good men out there” or maybe “I feel like I am being used,” I highly recommend getting quiet with yourself and asking yourself: What role am I playing in this? What am I doing to create this reality for myself? What can I do differently to get different results?

  • What Most People Get Wrong About Singles and 6 Messages You Might Need

    What Most People Get Wrong About Singles and 6 Messages You Might Need

    “In a world that treats a forty-one-year-old single woman like a teenager who didn’t get asked to prom, I think it’s extremely important to recognize the unique wisdom of a solitary life—a wisdom that develops slowly over many years, that is fundamentally different from that of, say, the person who was between boyfriends for a year when she was twenty-six.” ~Sara Eckel

    I was twenty-three and had just told a woman I was casually dating that I’d never been in a long-term committed relationship.

    Her response was this: “Wow, really? I mean, you’re attractive, so why haven’t you?”

    Having spent more of my life single than coupled, I’ve become accustomed to questions and comments like these. And although I am currently at a place of contentment and acceptance with my singleness, I wasn’t always. Shame often attaches itself to people (women especially) who remain un-partnered for long patches of time, particularly as we get older.

    As author Sara Eckel put it: “In polite society, there’s an understanding that inquiring about the reason two people marry is completely inappropriate. Singles are not afforded this privacy. Instead, the rude inquiries are wrapped in compliments about how attractive and together you are.”

    “For many of us, living alone in a society that is so rigorously constructed around couples and nuclear families is hard on the soul,” she wrote.

    Look to sites like Quora and Reddit, and you’ll find a plethora of questions posted by the worriedly un-partnered—from “What’s wrong with me? I’ve been single for seven years” to “Do you become undateable after being single for over ten years?”

    There are many negative messages and annoying presumptions about singleness percolating through society that I wish would stop. It’s no coincidence in my mind that women (more than men) are the more frequent targets of them.

    Here are my own counter-messages that I’ve developed in my thirty-two years as a woman on this planet.

    1. It’s quite possible that you’re not trying too hard.

    From the time I was eighteen, people told me that the desire for a connection was what kept me from finding one. If I just stopped caring or wanting it, a relationship would find me. As Sara Eckel wrote, “The fact that you want love is taken as evidence that you’re not ready for it.”

    I’ve known many people through the years whose desire for a relationship definitely didn’t stop them from finding one.

    2. Wanting a relationship doesn’t mean you are ungrateful for all the other positive aspects of your life

    In my ambivalently single years, I often felt I was constantly pushing myself to look on the bright side, count my blessings, and express gratitude (both to myself and to those around me) for the friends, hobbies, and other things I had going on in my life.

    I feel this way far less now. That is, I don’t feel as if I need to force the gratitude and appreciation; it flows in naturally in response to all the positive that currently fills my life. I’m living it in alignment with my values. I’m spending my time in the ways I want to.

    Still, it was okay to want more, even back then. The desire for partnership is human and valid, and it’s more than understandable for it to surface from time to time.

    As Rachel Heller put it in Attached (which she coauthored with Amir Levine), “Our need for someone to share our lives with is part of our genetic makeup and has nothing to do with how much we love ourselves or how fulfilled we feel on our own.”

    Singles are wired to want love and companionship as much as the next person. Our own company can be wonderful, but we’re not weak if that “there’s something missing” feeling still creeps up unexpectedly some days.

    What gets me about this one is the contradiction. Being single raises antennae. So too does the inability to find happiness on one’s own. It’s a bit of a damned if you do, damned if you don’t predicament.

    3. It’s completely possible that you genuinely just want companionship, not necessarily someone to satisfy all of your emotional needs.

    At times people assume a woman’s desire for a partner is rooted in an unrealistic expectation for a romantic relationship to fulfill all of her emotional needs. The truth for me, back in my twenties, was that I would have been happy to meet some of those needs through platonic connection. The older I got, though, the less available friends seemed to become.

    I feel more content with my friendships now, and a combination of expectation adjustment and meeting more like-minded people has helped me to feel like my connection needs are mostly met. But this wasn’t always the case. And for the people out there currently feeling a void, it’s not always due to lack of effort.

    As Sara Eckel wrote, “Our society is structured around couples and families—and if you don’t fit neatly into one of those units, you often have to build a support system from scratch, which is a big task. Friends move, or marry, or disappear into time-sucking work projects. And they usually don’t consult you about it.”

    Back when I felt more of that connection void, many of my friends had partnered off, become consumed by career commitments, or moved out of the area.

    It would be convenient to believe that the full secret to happiness lies completely within oneself. But individual efforts and self-care can only enhance one’s life so much. The truth is we do need others, to some extent. Most of us need (at least some amount of) healthy and satisfying connections. If you feel like you’re doing all that you can and not getting back what you need, it’s disheartening.

    4. Your life might actually be full enough as it is.

    “Take up a hobby.” “Become a more interesting person.” “Work through your issues.” “Focus on your friendships.” “Get more settled in your career.” These are just some of the many morsels of advice bestowed upon singles.

    I think that at times people prescribe the “have a full life” advice too heavily—using it to justify why some remain un-partnered, even when it doesn’t apply.

    For instance, back when I really wanted a relationship, I enjoyed the life I’d carved out for myself. I led a mostly full one, making time to hike and appreciate the outdoors at least several times a week. I biked. I read voraciously. I cooked healthy meals. I planned solo trips and made ample time for friends. I kept myself open and receptive to the beauty of the world around me.

    Though my job didn’t always feel like a perfect fit and lacked the comfort of a consistent coworker community, it drew upon my skills and passions while allowing me to serve a vulnerable population.

    Even though I had all that, I still at times found myself wanting a partner.

    The truth is that all kinds of people, from those with full lives to ones with few hobbies, find love. Even people whose lives seem unadorned or ”empty” when viewed from the outside are capable of intimate connections. Our species would not have persisted if the only ones of us who partnered were those with past-times and over-stuffed days.

    Many of the same people who prescribed “spend more time with friends or on hobbies” seemed to have also (ironically) been the ones who’d never had to fill their time in this way for more than a year (or maybe two) tops—either because they’d been in a partnership for many years or had only been single intermittently (having spent far more of their adult lives coupled off).

    5. The losses of “mini” or “almost” relationships are still losses.

    Chronically single people are likelier to have more experience with the dating apps. More time spent in the dating game means more exposure to the muck and unhealed emotional issues that circulates its fetid waters. We’re more susceptible to getting caught up in a frustrating and constant cycle of false hope and cautious optimism, followed by disappointment and disillusionment that the partnered don’t have to deal with.

    As much as I wanted to “just get over” some of these dating situations and not let them affect me, as blogger Janis Isaman wrote, “inside our bodies, it doesn’t work that way when we feel loss—over and over again—and lack support, lack feeling, lack an empathetic abiding witness, or lack self-compassion.”

    She writes, “this failure to give space to: ‘this is painful,’ ‘this feels like rejection,’ ‘this feels awful’ means we not only abandon our authenticity but also that we experience trauma. The tiny interactions of serial dating transmute themselves up into pain and disconnection, and we might find ourselves increasingly angry or panic-filled because we haven’t metabolized the previous losses.”

    Now I’m able to see: these experiences were still losses. Any time you invest heart and time, you are building some form of connection. When that connection dissolves, you will feel the hurt. It’s not only more than okay to feel your feelings; doing so is necessary for moving on.

    6. It’s not because you’re broken or need to spend more time healing your issues.

    This counsel isn’t totally without merit. In several relationships when younger, I had a lot of issues to work through; I wasn’t emotionally healthy. A relationship would not have been the wisest move.

    Still, this piece of advice mythologizes perfect health and implies we can arrive at a place where we’re fully healed—when health is always along a spectrum, with no human ever completely on the side of perfection.

    People with far more emotional baggage than both me and other chronically single people I know have found loving connections. Perpetual worriers. “Boring” folks. Individuals all across the spectrum have found partners who think the world of them. They didn’t have to work to improve themselves in order to. They didn’t have to go through years and years of rigorous therapy. They didn’t need a full-on personality transplant.

    The underlying message I hear poking out from this piece of advice is this: Change who you are.

    What if we were to shift to this message instead? You don’t need to perpetually strive. Therapy can help you become more self-aware, secure in yourself, and clear in what you’re looking for—but ultimately, a lot of meeting a compatible partner has to do with luck, timing, and the types of people you are encountering. You are worthy of love as you are.

    Not only does this feel kinder, but also more accurate.

    ~~

    For years I sought reasons to explain my single status. The conclusion I’ve arrived at now is: There is no grand overarching reason. Or rather, there are so many that it’s no use trying to pick them all apart. Seeking to fully untangle the bundle would be an unproductive use of time.

    Yes, some societal positions might increase your odds. And healthy relationships are less likely to occur between people with unhealed emotional issues. Ultimately, though, timing and chance are key aspects.

    The right partners will grace our lives when they’re meant to. I can’t say when that will happen. I just know that what we can control is the amount of energy we spend pursuing, perseverating, and picking ourselves apart in our pursuit of the “why.”

    I feel less urgency to be in a relationship now than before, and I am grateful for this. Having a more discerning lens has allowed me to be a better guardian of my emotional energy (and life in general)—where before, I would let in a questionable fit just for the sake of being able to say I was in a relationship. It has also led to growth that I don’t think I would have achieved if a significant other were a part of the equation.

    My hope is for anyone who’s struggled with shame and self-doubt to breathe a little easier, knowing you don’t have to try so hard to improve yourself—that you’re as lovable as the rest of us, exactly as you are.