Last March, during the second semester of my freshman year, my view of myself changed indefinitely. My three-year relationship had come to an end and I felt robbed of a support system and a sense of identity as a couple. The first few weeks were the hardest. I wasn’t used to going to places on my own and not having constant communication with a significant other
I remember one day when I went to Central Park for the afternoon. It was the beginning of spring and the grass was green again. The sun shone brightly and everything was slowly coming back to life. I walked until my feet were sore and I had no idea where I was. It should’ve been a nice, reflective afternoon and in certain ways it was. But I found myself miserable. There was no one to talk to and I kept noticing content couples strolling past me. I didn’t know who I was without a significant other. At that moment I didn’t want to find out. Personal growth, like most worthwhile things, is painful and takes time. I shied away from it. How could I possibly ever enjoy being single?
I’ve spent most of my young adult life either in a relationship or daydreaming about it. My journals from middle school are full of entries detailing my latest crush and need for a boyfriend. Re-reading my old thoughts made me melancholy because most of my writing had been on boys, there was barely anything focusing on myself. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, my heart set on finding my own perfect rom-com. There’s nothing wrong with being a sentimentalist, but there’s also value in recognizing when your priorities are uneven. I wasted too many nights worrying over my relationships. I needed to strike a balance.
I can’t point to the moment that balance began to form. Maybe it was when I forgot to check my phone for hours, not needing to tell a boyfriend where I was. Or it might’ve been when I stopped envying other couples and valued my friendships more. No matter when it started, I found myself increasingly content with my life as it was. I wasn’t desperately reaching to find fulfillment in another person or projecting future plans on them. The thought of there being times when I was single didn’t scare me. I was learning that loneliness and voluntary solitude aren’t the same things. It’s important to spend time alone and be reflective. In fact, this can often be when you get the most insight into yourself.
All of this is not to say that I’m not still a huge romantic who roots for the star-crossed lovers in every movie. It’s just that I’m no longer miserable when I decide to spend an afternoon by myself in the park. I’m willing to let myself explore new pathways of opportunity and keep an open mind. Although there are days where I feel like I haven’t made much progress at all, being single has led me to a whole new way of seeing myself. I’ve gained more self-love and confidence than ever before, and that’s usually when the best, unexpected things in life— like love— tend to happen.