My longest relationship lasted 5 years. When it started, I was barely a teenager. When it ended, I was budding into a young woman.

The years in between, my adolescent years, were ones where my body would change, I would form and break out of social circles, and learn independence. I would do so much, and I did, but always with someone by my side.

I was happy, mostly. The butterflies, the long calls, the dreamy smiles as you stare into space. I had them all. But, the downside to being in a relationship when so many things are changing is that the relationship becomes a constant. A rock. An anchor.

When I counted my strengths during this period, I counted my relationship first. I was proud, even fascinated by myself. My friends would go ‘wow y’all still together?’ And that would please me to no end.

It got so much into my head that when things started going south, I held on. Held on as life shredded the relationship so hard and so fast until not even pieces were left. I held on to anything I could find. To the memories, to the time spent together, to the dreams.

After all, I’d shared years of my life with this person. How could all that have been in vain?

One thing I regret the most is that I held on for too long. You see, when you want flowers bad enough, you will see rose bushes in the hot sand of the Sahara.

What I had in my hands was not a relationship anymore. It was nothing more than two people who grew farther apart each day. I knew it, he knew it, and it hurt. But the thought of letting go hurt worse.

I finally did, though.

And I did not cry. Not once. I had done enough of that during it. I’d suffered through the silent spells and the often unsuccessful attempts to rekindle the love. By the time it ended, I couldn’t mention one thing I’d loved about my partner.

I was ready to be done.

Apart from holding on too long, I’m also not particularly proud of jumping into a new relationship right away. A toxic one. I needed to be needed, and this new guy was the poster boy for needy. There started my gambles with codependency. This, my friends, is a story for another day.

Long story short, I’d never really seen myself outside a relationship. The last time I’d been single, I’d been getting my first period. So this new single life, once I finally got the courage to end the rebound relationship, was hard. Beyond hard.

I was lost. I felt drawn to people in relationships. To me, they were a symbol of power. I envied them. I wanted to be them.

But every time I met a great guy, I cringed like cotton in warm water. My first relationship had been my forever. In my mind, there was no one else, would never be anyone else.

But I’d been wrong. What was to say I wouldn’t be wrong about the next guy? Did I have 5 more years of my life to waste on another relationship? No, thank you.

It’s been almost a year since I ended my toxic rebound relationship. Some days, I struggled to define myself as a single woman. To find confidence in my talents, strengths, and character.

Then one day, I realized that there was only one way out. So I started off on a journey. A journey of rediscovery. Of finding myself. I don’t know that I’m there yet. However, I can see how far I’ve come and I couldn’t be happier.

I sometimes worry that that that old sting will never really numb into insignificance. But pain is necessary. In this case, it forced me to grow up. As myself. Not myself beside Simon. Or Craig. Or was it Peter? 😂😂 Psyche!

Image by DarkmoonArt_de from Pixabay