Letting Go in 2019

This is the last year of my 30s – it is time to both let go and to grow

Time to let go of all the fantasies, the what-ifs, the if-onlys, the lingering loyalties, the resentments, the lost loves, lost friendships.

Time to let go of heartache, pain, hatred, self-doubt, self-hate, and self-sabotage.

Time to grow into the woman I am and let go of the woman I thought I’d be, time to grow internally and let go of the things I thought I needed externally to make me happy, time to grow professionally – whatever that may mean, time to let go of the way I thought life should be and grow into accepting the way life is, learning to adapt to reality, to control the things I can and let go of the things I cannot.

Time to show myself more self-care, time to stop wasting energy on those who don’t put any energy into me, time to regain myself, my womanhood, to fall in love with myself and let go, as impossible as it may seem at times, of those who do not reciprocate my love.

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Widowed

I used to think it was crazy that my grandmother never remarried,

She spent the good part of 20 years alone, faithful to my grandfather even in death

Never fell in love again, never, that I know of, gave herself to another

Yet here I am, 39 years old, not a widow in the true sense, but without my one true love just the same

And I cannot envision giving myself to another, saying “I love you” to anyone but you

I’ve lost you, not to death, but to life, to your need to “do the right thing” to circumstances beyond my control

I’m alone, aching for you, wishing for your touch, dying inside at the thought of you with another

Yet, I’m still loyal, still feel guilt over kissing another, still have my guard up, still won’t let anyone else in.

Will I be like her, will I be single and without love until my dying day?

Widowed in my 30’s, crying tears over the death of us and all the could-have-been moments left unshared.

You are not dead, but the us I’ve always hoped for seems to be something that will never be fully resurrected, how do I grieve that?

Why I Didn’t Report (trigger warning)

These past few weeks have been hard for a lot of survivors of sexual assault. I’m one of those but have been reluctant to be as open about my stories as other people have. Our stories often define us in ways we don’t know or ways we don’t want to admit. For me it has led to years of not owning my own sexuality, not being confident, and being retraumatized in many ways due to too often being scared to say no, or saying no initially, but being talked into or coerced into saying yes, leading to lots of post-sex regrets. There are experiences where the line is murky, so I’m only listing times where the line is very clear. Here are the times I was sexually assaulted and #WhyIDidntReport Continue reading Why I Didn’t Report (trigger warning) These past few weeks have been hard for a lot of survivors of sexual assault. I’m one of those but have been reluctant to be as open about my stories as other people have. Our stories often define us in ways we don’t know or ways we don’t want to admit. For me it has led to years of not owning my own sexuality, not being confident, and being retraumatized in many ways due to too often being scared to say no, or saying no initially, but being talked into or coerced into saying yes, leading to lots of post-sex regrets. There are experiences where the line is murky, so I’m only listing times where the line is very clear. Here are the times I was sexually assaulted and #WhyIDidntReport Continue reading Why I Didn’t Report (trigger warning)

My Perfect Man

This isn’t a poem, but being as I have been mostly single for about 8 years, with a few false starts along the way, I thought I would put it out into the world…
  • Super smart – but not arrogant or condescending about it, respects my intelligence and pushes me to grow
  • Gives a shit about the world – votes every year, cares about and has an opinion on what is going on in the world, cares about others’ rights, others’ humanity
  • A great kisser. We have to be physically compatible, he has to be a giver and not just a taker.
  • A nice voice. There is something about some men’s voices that can just send my heart racing, send shivers through my entire body.
  • Strong. Not like bodybuilder strong, but like strong enough that I feel safe when he wraps his arms around me Continue reading My Perfect Man

The musings of a 30-something, urban, single mother

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