Self-Love with a Side of WTF

For most of my adult life, I wasn’t really alone. Not in the “deep, sit-with-yourself-in-silence-and-hear-your-own-thoughts” kind of way.

I was in an 18-year relationship — one that started in my early teens and carried me into adulthood, marriage, milestones, and countless identity shifts. He wasn’t just my partner; he was my best friend, my comfort zone, and for a long time… my sense of home.

When the marriage ended, I didn’t just lose a person. I lost the version of me that only existed in us.

It was disorienting. I didn’t know what music I liked anymore without thinking about him. I didn’t know what food I wanted to cook for just me. I didn’t know how to fill a Saturday alone without spiraling into “Should I text someone?” or “What’s wrong with me?”

Have you ever looked around and wondered who you are without the roles you play for others?

The truth is, my identity had been so deeply woven into being a wife — being his wife — that when it all unraveled, I felt like I was floating in emotional space without gravity. No map. No mirror. Just me and a whole lot of WTF.

But here’s where the magic started to trickle in: I didn’t run from that silence. I leaned into it.

I started walking alone. Eating alone. Sitting with my own thoughts — not all of them kind — and letting them exist without distraction. I gave myself permission to not know who I was for a while. To be a beautiful, chaotic, grieving work-in-progress.

I tried new things. Some of them I hated. (Paint by Numbers? No thank you.) Others lit me up in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I found music that made me cry and dance and scream all at once. I cooked meals just for me and made them look pretty anyway. I took up photography again — not for a feed or a project — just because I wanted to remember what beauty looked like through my eyes.

And slowly, I started becoming someone I liked spending time with.

Being alone doesn’t mean you’re lonely. Loneliness is the ache for connection — but solitude? Solitude is the space where connection with yourself is built. And that, my friend, is the kind of relationship I never knew I was missing.

I’m still learning. Still fumbling. Still catching myself reaching for old comforts or questioning if I’m “too much” or “not enough.” But now I know this: I am not just someone’s partner, someone’s support system, someone’s safety net.

I am my own safe place now.

So if you’re in that weird, wobbly middle space — the “what now?” season of your life — know this: being alone is not a punishment. It’s an invitation. To meet yourself. To hear yourself. To be yourself, fully and unapologetically.

And if you’re anything like me… you might just discover that your own company is pretty damn amazing.

When was the last time you did something alone — and actually enjoyed it? Let’s normalize finding joy in our own company. Tell me your favorite solo ritual or guilty pleasure!