For the past year I have been waiting. Waiting for my son to accept our separation. Waiting for the right time to file for divorce. Waiting for the divorce to be final. Waiting for my life to begin.
I don’t know what I thought that life would be. A part of me feels awkward. It feels strange to be single. Like something is wrong. I think the message that society sends is that being single is somehow inherently wrong. I bought into that for almost a year and then I had this realization: My life began a long time ago … even before I left my ex.
The reality is that I live in a small apartment. I own very little of value. I have faith in God. I have a business that I’m trying to keep alive and a son that needs me. That’s it. And that’s okay.
My life began the day I was conceived. (not meant to be a comment on when life begins) My childhood, adolescence, college days, marriage, and 8 years of parenting are all part of who I am now. Those experience shaped me in both good and bad ways. What I do with that is what my “life” will now be.
While I may not have all the things that my heart desires just yet, it doesn’t mean that I’m not living. More importantly, I don’t have to be in a relationship to be living. I don’t have to be living in domestic bliss to have a life. I reject the concept that I have to live on pause until I find that man.