When I was 7 years old, I vividly remember the fleeting presence of my dad in my life. Our time together was scarce, limited to just one day a month..which only lasted a few months. That single day held immense significance for me because it was the only time I got to see him.
I recall one particular month when he didn't show up as planned. I waited patiently all day, clinging to the hope of our time together. But as the hours passed and evening descended, he was nowhere to be found. Overwhelmed with emotions, I finally mustered the courage to call him, tears streaming down my face. I poured out my heart, questioning why he wasn't there, why hadn't he come for me, and if he truly loved and cared for me.
After that, he picked me up the next month as if nothing had happened—no mention of the call, no acknowledgment of not showing up. At that moment, I made a silent vow to myself to build walls around my heart, shielding myself from further pain inflicted by him or any other man.
Now, here I am, years later...
After nearly a decade of embracing the single life, I've recently entered into a serious, committed romantic partnership. It's been quite the journey. I've come to realize that navigating personal growth is far more straightforward when flying solo.
During those initial years of singlehood, I was grappling with the loss of my mother. Romance just wasn’t on my radar—it couldn’t be, not when my heart was still grieving. But around the three-year mark, something shifted. I felt ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool, especially after relocating to New York for my master's degree. Suddenly, the world seemed full of endless possibilities, and I was eager to explore.
Over the next five years, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery, navigating the choppy waters of men and dating. It was a time of exploration, healing, and growth. Amidst starting therapy for my mother, father, and sexual abuse traumas, I threw myself into relationships, hoping to find that elusive committed partnership.
Growing up with an absent father and experiencing sexual abuse as a child left me with deep-seated wounds and a skewed perception of my worth. My father’s absence made me feel I had no value, while the sexual abuse taught me that my value lay solely in my body. As I embarked on my journey of self-love, I realized that setting boundaries with men meant starting from scratch, and redefining what it meant to value myself and my worth.
It wasn't until a couple of years ago that I finally recognized the pattern in the men I kept allowing into my life and how I let them treat me—emotionally unavailable, narcissistic, only interested in one thing. So, I decided to stop dating altogether. If these were the types of men I kept attracting, then I decided it was time to focus solely on myself.
And you know what? It was liberating. Sure, there were moments of longing for a romantic relationship, but those instances were few and far between when I looked at the bigger picture. Most of the time, I was busy working on myself—learning to love myself, embracing my body, and acknowledging my value and worth. During this time, everything revolved around me, as it should have. I became intimately familiar with myself, learning to navigate life's challenges gracefully. When things got tough, I found solace in my own company, emerging stronger, wiser, and more empowered each time. I knew what it meant to come home to myself.
Then, along came this man—terrifying yet beautiful, a mirror reflecting my essence. He was solid, committed to his personal growth, and shared many of my values. And then, within the span of a few months…I lost myself.
About a month ago, our communication shifted, triggering my anxious attachment bringing that to the forefront. It was as if it had been waiting for this exact moment. My mind went into full protection mode, and my ego began collecting evidence to present its case. And unfortunately, it seemed to be winning. When you're searching for something, you'll always find it. And that's exactly what happened to me. I found reasons as to why I didn’t matter to him anymore. He didn’t seem to have time for me, didn’t make space for me, and didn’t seem to value me. See evidence A, B, and C, your honor.
With each thought and reason I found, my feelings grew stronger, and so did my anxiety until it all came crashing down on him. My emotions were so overwhelming, that I didn’t leave room for his feelings. We ended up talking after the crash landing, and he approached me with gentleness and openness, reflecting to me some of my misconceptions, which opened up a whole new world within me.
In the days that followed it dawned on me what was happening. Yes, I already knew I had anxious attachment tendencies, but I hadn't realized just how much I had given my personal power over to him—over how I felt about myself, how I valued myself, and even how I viewed myself physically. And then, I became a victim to that equation. Because if 1) he didn’t say I was beautiful today + 2) my insecurity = 3) I’m not beautiful. Say what? When did that happen? Just a few months ago, I knew my beauty and walked around as a woman in love with herself. How did I get here?
Honestly, I'm grateful that this happened with him because of his loving, consistent, and steady presence. Now that I’ve reached a place where I'm ready to receive the message of what he had to say, along with the lessons I’m finally able to embody, I see where my work needs to be done.
Here are some truths that have dawned on me, and I'm fully embracing their awareness:
Everything is a choice. I can choose to remain in the misery of my spiraling, or I can opt for a path of greater peace and empowerment.
When I spiral into my anxious attachment, my feelings become so consuming that I leave no room for my partner's feelings.
I realize that my self-love journey has reached a new level just like in a video game. And just like a video game the final boss is much tougher except this time the final boss is me. It's no longer about the people who hurt me; it's about the trauma I've carried and allowed to reside within me. Now, I must navigate and respond differently to situations, scenarios, and my mind, as that's where the discomfort lies and where growth resides.
I must invest even more in myself—my self-love, self-care, projects, passions, and energy. My value and worth were never tied to him or any other man; they lie within me.
Although I grew up as a victim of my circumstances, I'm no longer bound by that identity as an adult. My mind may sometimes feel like a cage, but I hold the key to freedom.
I can lean on him for support, just as I would with a friend, even if it feels more vulnerable with him.
I acknowledge that there's still much I don't know, and I'm open to receiving, learning, and growing.
I'm realizing that my energy is shifting once again, and coming home to myself is an ongoing practice—one that will happen countless times in this lifetime.
I made a solemn promise to myself: never to forget who I am again. It's not easy—it's a continuous journey, one that feels both new and familiar at the same time. I understand that this is just the beginning of a new chapter because I've learned that awareness is where the real work begins. And for that, I'm deeply grateful. I'm grateful for the opportunity to engage in this kind of inner work, to be alive in this moment, and to have the chance to pursue what I truly desire. Even if I were to live a hundred years, experiencing different timelines and reincarnations, none would be quite like the life I'm living now. I choose to fully embrace and participate in this existence because it's fleeting and incredibly beautiful.
I'm dedicating myself to becoming the best version of who I am, not just for myself, but for the collective betterment of humanity. I know that the healing energy I cultivate within myself will always have a lasting impact on the world around me. And that is the truth that I will carry with me from now on.
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