I’ve been rather introspective lately. Analysis comes naturally anyway; but I’m at the three-year anniversary of the ending of my marriage, and these things invite even deeper thoughts.
I have had no interest in being a single hero. I make no claims about how happy I am without a partner in my life. My Instagram isn’t filled with girl power memes and lists of the things that make being single awesome. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Don’t misunderstand; being with the wrong person isn’t worth it. I’m confident in who I am and the value I provide, and having a man in my life doesn’t make me feel better about myself. I don’t need to be rescued and I don’t need someone to handle the repairs in my house.
But having a grown up person to share my life with (distinguishing between my child who is the physical embodiment of my heart, outside my body) makes many things better.