Well, here I am again.
A few weeks away from turning 48. Oh my hell, where did the time go?
Anyway...

April really stopped me in my tracks, I started looking at me.
What am I doing so wrong? Why do my relationships keep failing? What the hell is wrong with me?
Is there something wrong with me?

I put myself in therapy for a year or so not too long ago. Totally different story—and trust me, we'll get there.
But I feel like I did the work.
I really worked hard to understand myself better. My triggers. My thoughts. My feelings. Why I react the way I do. Why I choose the things I choose. I learned a lot about myself, and I really thought I was ready.

Ready for a relationship.
And not just a relationship...
Marriage.
Awwww. I wanna get married.
Welp.

Life said NO.
Life said, Tasia, you are not done learning. And you sure as shit are not going to settle. So let's learn some brutal shit.
Apparently, life had a syllabus.

Here's the thing.
This story isn't about a man. Or men.
This is about me.

It's about realizing that doing the work doesn't mean I'll never choose wrong again.
I think somewhere along the way, I got this idea that if I healed enough, learned enough, became self-aware enough, then I'd finally get it right.

I'd recognize the right person. I'd have the healthy relationship. I'd know how to communicate. I'd understand my triggers. I'd stop repeating old patterns.
Basically, I thought doing the work meant I'd eventually pass the test and get the prize.
Turns out, that's not quite how this shit works.

Doing the work doesn't mean I'll never choose something—or someone—that isn't right for me again.

It means I'm finally learning to recognize when something isn't right.
It means I don't have to talk myself into being okay with things I'm not okay with.
It means I can really love someone and still recognize they're not right for me.
It means I can stop asking everyone else whether my feelings make sense and start trusting that maybe they don't need anyone else's approval.
And maybe the biggest one...
It means eventually trusting myself enough to leave.

I thought healing would mean I would find the right relationship.
Turns out, maybe healing also means being willing to be alone instead of forcing the wrong one to work.

And that's a whole different kind of work.
Because walking away is one thing.
Sitting in the space you created afterward? That's another!
No texting someone just to fill the silence. No connections. No placeholders. No finding another person to make you feel wanted so you don't have to sit with the fact that you're alone.

Just me. My thoughts. My feelings. My shit.

And the uncomfortable reality that I actually chose this.
I chose being alone over staying somewhere that didn't feel right.
Which sounds very strong and empowering when you put it on an inspirational quote.

What they don't put on the inspirational quote is the random Tuesday afternoon when you're lonely and sad and wondering if maybe you should've tried harder.
They don't talk much about resisting the urge to reach for something you already know isn't right just because it would make the feeling disappear.
They definitely don't talk about how tempting it can be to immediately find someone new so you don't have to feel the empty space at all.

Maybe that's the shitty part nobody puts on the inspirational quote.
Because believing I deserve better isn't just about walking away.
It's about what I do after I walk away.

Can I sit with myself?
Can I trust myself when nobody else is there reassuring me that I made the right decision?
Can I build a life I actually like without needing another person to validate it?
Can I stop romanticizing inconsistency?
Stop calling chaos chemistry?
Stop making excuses for things that don't feel right because I'm afraid of growing old alone?
Can I believe I deserve better strongly enough that I'm willing to wait for it—even if "better" isn't another person right now?

Maybe better is just me.
Me learning how to trust myself.
Me building a life that feels good to live.
Me getting comfortable in my own company.
Me figuring out who the hell I am at almost 48 when I'm not trying to make something work, keep someone happy, or become who I think I'm supposed to be.
I don't know exactly where any of this is going.

That's kind of the point.
For once, I'm not trying to rush to the ending.
So here we are.

I chose myself.
Well, shit.
Apparently now I have to actually hang out with her.
And apparently...
This is growth.