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On the changing season

“The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let things go.”

Last fall was full of all autumn’s activities. There were multiple fairs and evenings spent on carnival rides. There was pumpkin patches and hay rides. There were drives to appreciate the changing of the leaves. There was Hocus Pocus and Ichabod.

This year is different. This year is about discovery and feelings. And learning how to let go, which is something I’ve struggled with for a long time. It’s also the number one thing I don’t like about myself. I hang on to things far too long—both good and bad. Yes, even when something’s good. I want to savor it for as long as I can, or I want to recreate it over and over. For example, it seems every year I try to make Christmastime feel like it felt when I was a child.

But that’s not life. We evolve. And if we try to hang on to good things for too long, we don’t let God show us something better.

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Putting yourself out there

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Putting yourself out there

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I went to Target. I bought a small backpack to take hiking and a cute pair of shoes. And a kombucha because it’s my go-to lately. When I came home, I changed into workout clothes, took Zula out and then headed to the park. Two miles walking through the mist from the recent rainfall. My back is getting stronger, but I couldn’t take much more than that. I listened to songs like F*ckin Perfect and Strip Me and Shake It Out on the drive to find white mums. No luck. I made an acai bowl for dinner, put on an episode of Friends, and took a bath. A full evening. This to take my mind off everything. To remind myself I’m okay. That I like my own company.

This year, I’ve put myself out there. I asked someone out. I met someone online. And it’s easy to think all that was stupid. That it’s been a waste of time. For three weeks, I was dating a 32-year-old man from Nashville. He was athletic and cute and talkative and had his own business and told me all the things I wanted to hear. We went on eight dates in three weeks, staying up until 11, 12… 3 a.m. I liked him. Then last week, work fell through, he was stressed and he decided “right now wasn’t a good time to be dating.” But that he “really enjoyed hanging out with me.” I asked all the right questions. The last time I saw him he said he wanted to see where this would go. That he wanted a serious relationship. Blah blah blah.

Yesterday I walked six miles. Six miles to take my mind off him because he hadn’t reached out to me in a week. Then I got the phone call that lasted nine minutes, and that was it. I cried all day yesterday telling myself I would be alone forever, that all men are full of shit. That no one can be trusted. That was yesterday.

Today, I remembered my worth. I remembered that what’s meant for me will stay. I remembered that it’s his loss. And I chose to trust that God has been moving men out of the way. Men who aren’t supposed to be in my life. I was reminded that there’s purpose in waiting. That the right man is out there.

Confession: I’ve never prayed for a husband or for my future husband. Instead I’ve thought since a young age that I would never be married. But God knows my heart and I need to start believing marriage will be part of His plan. So starting last night, I’ve started to pray for what I want.

And in the waiting, I’m going to take care of myself. I need to go to counseling. I need to work through my pain. I need to make an effort to make more friends. I need to go to an orthopedic doctor. I need to keep eating healthy and working out. And yes, I know I should be going to church. But to start, Sundays are going to be spent walking in the woods. Small steps to making myself whole, better, content. <3

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