I had an epiphany last weekend.
Saturday, I drove Mavis the Mini down to south Orange County (California) to spend the remainder of the holiday weekend with my best friend, her husband and their five-year-old daughter.
Somewhere near Disneyland, shoving the remainder of my protein-style burger from In-N-Out into my mouth and shifting from fifth to sixth gear, I actively decided that I was done with my most recent breakup. Well, all of them, in fact. Done-zo. Over it. Buh, bye. Peace out. Thank you, next. (Also, yes, if you need to cue the song, go ahead, but Grammar Queen over here will be spelling out the entire word.)
It feels so good.
Here’s what I know: if someone wants to be with you, they’ll be with you. It’s that simple.
I’m not in denial anymore. I’m not holding on anymore. I’m embracing my (single) life as is. It’s actually really good, even if I’m no where near where I thought I would be, part seven hundred and sixty-four.
Another epiphany I had yesterday morning, while dolling up to go to the gynecologist and have an ultrasound of my old, cyst-riddled uterus is this: it’s okay to mourn the loss of what you thought you would have. Or even what you thought — or was told — you deserved.
Life is hard. But it’s still beautiful, even if you were robbed of your ideas and expectations of how it would turn out.
The greatest strength to move forward is found in letting go.
Live fully. Love freely. Grieve if you need to, but don’t linger or wallow. Move the fuck on, because there’s so much great unexpectedness waiting for you. Embrace, live in and cherish each moment from here on out.
Else, your life will pass you by. And it won’t be anyone’s fault but your own.