“They say everything it happens for a reason. You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person…” – You+Me (from their self-titled song, You and Me)

Years ago, when I started letting friends know I was getting divorced, I received incredible emails, texts, and calls of encouragement and support. A good friend from college sent a note with a list of things he had learned from his divorce almost a decade prior. The first thing on his list: “You will love again. You will love again. You will love again.”

I will never forget how powerful those words were to me. After a significant relationship ends, it’s easy to wonder if you’ll ever find love again and if that part of you even works anymore. Those words felt life-giving, like someone else who had gone through the same thing knew it was possible and infused that belief in me.

The truth is it’s hard to really know ourselves and the depths of our own pain. Our minds have sophisticated ways of layering and hiding the trauma we have experienced. And sometimes we crave companionship so fiercely we jump into something we might not be ready for.

For me, the key is to recognize I am a creature of habit. I’m often afraid to be alone with my sadness or loneliness when I could easily distract myself with a new shiny person, full of infatuation and potential. Instead, I have to sit shiva with my own broken heart and give her time to process and heal.

As I’ve stated many times, grief is not linear, so comes in waves. Even today, there are still cracks that need to heal, calluses that want soothing. But like most things in life, there’s no black or white answer – there’s no X amount of days or weeks or months or years that prepares you to love again in a deep and meaningful way. At some point, we have to trust the work we have done has worked, and simply dive in as a calculated risk.

I now also understand my ability to love again is a direct correlation to the degree I love myself.

I did find love again after my divorce – something I don’t take for granted and learned so much from. When that relationship ended after three years, I started the cycles of grieving, healing, forgiveness, and leaning in to my belonging even more.

I am emerging from this liminal space after the loss and deciding if I’m ready to try again. It’s a good exercise in listening to my intuition, going into the depths of my being and searching for the freedom I ultimately seek. The difference today is choosing if that freedom comes with another person or the pleasure of my own company. Maybe it’s both and. Most importantly, I understand the choice is entirely up to me.

[Photo: 2 months after my Achilles surgery, I took my first steps without a scooter or boot and came across this sign a block away. It felt ironic because I literally could not walk ANY SLOWER. In another context, maybe it’s good advice for dating again.]