So sometimes I have this feeling that I’m going to spend a lot of romantic nights wandering through New York City, or some snowy, lantern-lit, town, layered in scarves with my wispy blonde hair and I’m going to be just fine.
I have this image of myself in a coffee shop, reading a book, listening to the idle (or quite juicy) thoughts that others are whispering to each other in the booths next to me.
I have this image of a cozy couch, a puppy, a good read, or a beautiful film.
All of these things are dreamy. They’re about the small (yet large) details of this quality of life that I’m striving for. And the weirdest part? I’ve had these images in my brain since I was little. I used to say I wanted to live in Vermont. I’ve never been to Vermont! And yet…I realize that in all of these scenarios, it’s just me. These dreams that I started envisioning at a young age are filled with the white air that we see when we breathe out in the cold; the fuzzy socks that make you feel like you’re secure; the warm dish in a dimly-lit restaurant, sitting in a corner booth on a Saturday night, in a city that has no bedtime. These are the dreams that I’ve had, for as long as I can remember. And above all else, the part that empowers me the most is that in all of these scenarios, I’m alone. It’s just me. Not in an, “I’m all alone, wah,” kind of way. I’m talking, “I’m happy here. In this place. At this time. Just me. I’m good.”
I don’t know when I started putting a boy–a man–in the pictures I started dreaming up. Sure, I want to get married and build a family in the years to come. But I know that my life is possible, just how I want it, on my own. I know that being alone is a gift sometimes. I’ve spent nearly a year trying to figure out how I operate when I’m confused, lost, jealous, angry, or sad. And after everything that I’ve worked on, endured, and changed, I’ve discovered that I’m powerful. I’m strong in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve worked on my faith, on my body image, on my ability to be alone, and I’ve seen my hard work manifest in different ways.
I still feel 1000 miles away from the answers to some of my prayers, and uncomfortable in my own skin day to day, but you know what? I love being alone now; I thrive when I get time alone. I laugh at myself in the car; heck, I talk to myself in the car sometimes. I dance and giggle at the small things I do, and yet I still find myself waking up at five a.m. in a sweat and panic that I’m doing everything all wrong.
The point is, I’m happy to be learning. I’m happy to be struggling, to be praying, to be fighting for the small and large dreams that I’m chasing after. I’m on a journey with lots of uncertain turns and twists that really throw me off, and yet, I’m on my way to where I need to be. At the end of the day, is there really more that we can ask for?
Dear Girl, 