by Meredith Siegel Cohen, Creator, Single and Striking Out

It’s one thing to end something, and another to believe that it is truly over.

More than once in my life, I have clung to wishful thinking—that the person I loved would change, see the error in his ways, and gain clarity with support so that all the potential in “us” would be realized. I don’t know that it was even on purpose. The hope just sort of overstayed its welcome, like an unwanted house guest.

Sadly, more than once, I was proven wrong. Potential is simply that. It sits on a separate shelf, with other novels entitled Dreams, Fantasy, and False Hope.

But oh, how I reached for that book—over and over again. I was recently told that I have a broken picker. I guess I could look at it that way. However, I choose to view it as necessary education, reinforcing the notion that I should accept what I see in front of me when meeting people. In the past, I’ve had a strong tendency to see what I want to see, which is a wholly different thing.

That’s where I get into trouble.

What is it I want to see?
Nothing shocking.
Warmth, kindness, integrity. No lying. No one telling me, “Meredith, that’s naïve. Everyone lies.”

No, everyone doesn’t.

I want an honest soul. A generous soul. Yes, I would like generosity, and I’m no longer embarrassed to say it. A man who takes the lead—plans things, pays for things without hesitation, wants us both to enjoy these golden years. Someone who is educated. Who believes in learning and personal growth. A man whose words and actions align. I’ve been made to feel like that’s expecting too much. But I don’t think it is. I see it in other relationships. I’m tired of feeling guilty for wanting what I want.

It’s time to clear space in my mind and my heart for what comes next.

Don’t get me wrong. My heart is like an ocean. It has depth. Diving in, it remembers beautiful moments and horrible times—all adding to my experience and collective wisdom. I was once told, in a heated moment, that I don’t know how to love. I think about that. Such manipulative words. He was saying that because I didn’t do what he wanted me to do or say what he wished to hear, I didn’t know how to love. Ridiculous.

Yet, there was a kernel of truth in that statement.

I didn’t know how to honor myself. To hold out for what I truly needed in a loving relationship. I wasn’t loving me. Perhaps in that way, I did not know how.

I understand so much better now—what I want, what I don’t want, how I want to feel. Boundaries are important. At 54, there’s no time to waste.

So yesterday, I did something I was resisting. I deleted seven years’ worth of photos. Seven years of a relationship that ended, but wasn’t gone. It was there for me to scan when I was lonely, for making comparisons, and as a “memento” of what I thought was a great love.

It wasn’t. And it isn’t fair to me or to the people I am meeting to keep looking in the rearview mirror.

If it had been a great love, I’d still be in it.
No.

It was a relationship built on divide, on loneliness, and honestly, on fear—from both our ends. Fear of not finding anything “better,” fear of losing a comfort we had built, fear of being alone. I thought it was love, and maybe for a time, it was. But it certainly wasn’t long-term, sustainable love.

It is time to clear out the visuals that keep me an emotional hostage. Terminating social media connections and clearing out photos are part of my healing process. Not in an effort to be mean—certainly not—but in an effort to be kind towards and protective of myself.

My first ex told me, “You are a loser, and you always will be. That’s why you’re lonely.” Downright mean.
The second one said, “You’ll never find anyone who will love you like I do.” Emotional dependency tactic.
After I encouraged them both—you will meet someone new, life will go on.

And it did—for them.

Theirs were targeted words—meant to hurt, scare, and drain me. And it worked for a while. So what am I clinging to?

Clearing out tangible things helps with the intangible. There’s no hook to fall back on. No looping. I feel myself strengthen each day. I love my new path and all I’m learning. I walk outside and breathe in the crisp air, feeling a sense of pride and renewal. When I’m enjoying a day to myself, I think about what a gift it is. I’d rather be alone than contort myself into something that’s “acceptable” to someone else.

I didn’t realize how long this inner journey would take. Embracing being single is so much more than doing “fun stuff” on my own. It’s doing the hard stuff. The contemplative stuff. The lonely stuff. It’s going against the voices all around me that say I should be on every relationship app, furiously stacking dates in a numbers game that will increase my odds of finding the “one” if I book as many as possible.

I don’t need 200 logged in. I just need one. The right one. The warmth-exuding, snuggle-loving, family-embracing, income-earning, thinks I’m a one-in-a-million “one.” Who knows how to communicate appropriately. Who doesn’t feel the need to threaten me into staying, but who respects me and understands how to express love in ways that innately make me feel cherished, safe, secure—and wanting to stay.

Now, when I reach for the shelf, I pull out Patience, Loving Me, and Faith in My Journey.
And of course, Single and Striking Out.

Heart-affirming, substantive reads.

I’d love to hear from you. What has gotten you through the lonely times? How do you stay hopeful for a love that is right for you?

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