I am single, and I am married. While seemingly paradoxical, both of these things are true. There is no husband, nor a spouse to whom I am married. I alone comprise the happy couple.
If this sounds psychotic to you, I totally understand. I originally meant all of this as a joke. I teased that I would pull a Sue Sylvester from Glee and marry myself, because I deserve my own hand like no other. Maybe it’s because I commit to a bit like no other, but a silly gag about a self-engagement ring turned into wedding dress shopping at Savers, invitation crafting, and a bridal photoshoot in my apartment. I baked my own wedding cake (boxed mix, but still), handpicked each flower of my bouquet at the local florist, selected the music to which I would walk down the aisle, and wrote out my vows with love and intention. By my wedding day, there was not an ounce of irony in my celebration—my friends leaned into it equally, if not more than I did. I have never been more grateful for my shamelessness, and to have a group of people who are always ready to back me up no matter how outlandish the idea. I planned for a celebration of self-love with a gathering of the people who have loved me through all the highs, lows, and in-betweens of life. I was not prepared, though, for the showering of love I would receive from my chosen family, which was beyond my wildest expectations. It was pure magic to see just how supportive people were of my journey in loving myself, and I had not really considered how inspiring they may find it to see me so confident in, so comfortable with, and so committed to myself.
When I was telling my friend’s mom about my big day, her initial question was: “Does a boy have something to do with all this?” I thought about it for a second, unsure what to say. A boy did have something to do with it, back when it was just a joke and I was still trying to cope with the sharp pain of a broken heart. But I grew larger than my pain, and my love for myself scabbed over the wounds. My scars became tattoos of the growth and healing I have endured, and my wedding became so much bigger than him. I was choosing myself, not out of spite or desperation or as any sort of placeholder love. My relationship with myself is the one I treasure most; it makes me a better friend and a happier person.
The last piece I wrote for post- was about the very breakup I now reference so casually. I do not want to harp on it too much, but it has propelled me on to the adventure of a lifetime. I have learned that growing and healing means ceasing to stuff my hurting into a closet full of past ailments I want to forget. Instead, I take the lessons I have learned and carry them with me in my backpack. I befriend them, so that I can love me in all the ways others have fallen short. As I proclaimed to myself in my vows,
While being angry about my pain felt good in the moment, being fully content and at peace with myself brings me much more ease as I fall asleep at night. I love me, I love my resilience, and I love all the ways I show up for myself and make sure I feel good and cared for. I am the love I have been waiting for.
I cannot stress how much I have learned from all this intentional and growth-driven alone time.
Life is not only more fun as a “Jew Sylvester,” as my friend has dubbed me, but also so much more stable. I often feel like I have cracked the code to a happy life by discovering how to properly take care of myself. I sometimes feel like I am too young to know so much about myself; I always thought choosing to stay in on a Friday night was for women in their thirties and not a twenty-one-year-old. Who would have thought I would be going to bed by 10 p.m. most nights and getting up by 7 a.m.?! Once I know what makes me feel my best, it is nearly impossible to convince myself to do otherwise—so long as I maintain my beloved social life. I have found that the hardest trials and tribulations can lead to the greatest personal rewards, so long as I can find the strength to fully embrace the pain to become a stronger version of myself. As it turns out, my most recent trial has led me to become not just stronger, but in love with my life and the person I am today.
As I sit and reflect on being a newlywed, my heart feels so full. I am so happy to be at a point in my life where my brain gets quiet. And not a bad quiet—I still have so much to say, but I don’t have to speak to prevent myself from being alone with my thoughts. In fact, I love being alone with my thoughts nowadays. I find myself in perfect company anytime it is just me, myself, and I. The love I have for myself is unlike my love for a man, and it surely will last far longer.
Unlike a few months ago, before further expanding my self-love, self-respect, and self-appreciation, I am not closed off to the idea of falling in love with another human again. Right now, I cannot see how that would serve me when I am already so full of love, but I have decided I do not need to circumscribe my future because I have been hurt in the past. I do know that if someone really wants to win me over, he will need to beg on his hands and knees to be with me, bring me surprise lattes, and write me letters of appreciation all throughout the day, because he will need to outdo me in loving me. My life is so great, so unless he is actively making it better than it was before, I don’t want him. After all, I am a married woman. I promise myself a lifetime of joy and self-love, because life is so beautiful when you are your own biggest fan, best friend, and primary source of happiness. To myself I forever say I do.
