I Found Love in the Last Place I Thought I’d Find It
By: Lizzie Finn
Tags: Self, Relationships, Life Lessons, Love, Self Improvement

I Found Love in the Last Place I Thought I’d Find It

After a horrific year of grief and heartache, I finally found someone who makes me complete

Photo by Lizzie Finn

For years, I was in constant pain, and I woke up each morning hating my body, hating my life, hating being me.

Now — on what should be my 26th Wedding Anniversary — and a year after my husband left me — I wake up each morning, and the first words I hear are these: I love you.

Hearing these words brings an instant smile to my face. I am loved. I am not alone. I am not someone you betray, abandon, and leave behind like trash.

This person sees me and accepts me as I am. But this person doesn’t blow smoke up my ass and tell me they love me to manipulate me or tell me what I think I need to hear. They do not tell me I’m perfect, and they do not expect me to be perfect. In fact, they give me permission to be human — to be messy, flawed, broken, complicated, complex.

No matter how many times I screw up or disappoint, they still love me. Because I am human — and I am capable of so much beauty, but also so much ugliness.

This person cherishes the real me in ways nobody else ever has. And I can tell this person truly loves me — because I feel this love as it vibrates throughout my entire body.

Daily, this person takes the time to remind me that I am worthy of love and that I am valued. I hear a list of all my attributes, and it makes me blush. I am told that I am wise, creative, curious, openminded, generous, kind, empathetic, compassionate, fun, funny, smart, inquisitive, sensitive, interesting, silly, sentimental, trustworthy, affectionate, opinionated, strong-willed, passionate, faithful, hopeful, optimistic, genuine, emotional, and real.

I am finally, totally, utterly in love — WITH MYSELF.

The person who wakes up and tells me I am loved is ME.

Finding love and acceptance

For years, I’ve been looking for love outside myself.

Like many women, I was raised to believe I was only worthy of love if I was taking care of others or making my partner happy.

My job was to support my family first. To put me first would be selfish and narcissistic. I had to earn my place in the household, much like Cinderella, and I had to be content to accept breadcrumbs of love. Sadly, no matter how much I gave of myself — it was never enough.

I was never enough.

This past year has not been easy. For the first time in three decades, I was single, unpartnered, unmoored. But being alone, I found, is not so bad. For the first time in my adult life, I had time and space to just sit and be present with myself. And what I found surprised me.

I like myself.

I’m fascinating, and I do exciting things in my free time. I’m not desperate for distraction or companionship or surface relationships. I have a full life and so many passions — despite no longer being part of a WE.

For years, my husband told me it was my job to make him happy. But it’s impossible to make anyone else happy. Happiness is an inside job.

If we don’t take responsibility for loving ourselves, then how can anyone else truly fill the void within us?

They can’t.

Hitting rock bottom and rising up

I’ve spent a lot of time this past year going inward — journaling, meditating, crying, dancing — and learning to love this body that was once so broken. I’ve also learned I love my inquisitive mind, my loving heart, and my sensitive soul.

I’m no longer apologizing for being me.

If anything, I am proclaiming myself to the world. I’m not just a survivor — I’m a warrior. I rise when others crumble.

I was content to keep living as I had for thirty years — giving and giving and giving and accepting that it was me who wasn’t enough. Then I hit rock bottom — chronic illness, menopause, midlife crisis, empty nest, downsizing, and marital separation. The shock and trauma of it all sent me reeling. I did not know if I could recover from so much at once.

At my lowest point, I went to Jamaica for psilocybin therapy. The treatment changed my life. I was reminded of who I am.

I am pure, unadulterated, unequivocal love.

And I do not need to earn anyone else’s love, acceptance, or approval.

I wake up each day now proud of the person I’ve become. Despite years of constant struggle and pain, I have risen out of the ashes to become a person who can stand on her own two feet.

But more than that, I feel stronger, healthier, and more alive. And I no longer worry about what another person thinks of me. No matter who I become in the future, I know this to be true — I will never again stay small to make another person feel big.

I have big dreams, big hopes, and big plans. At midlife — my life is just beginning.

Maybe someday, I’ll have a partner again on this journey, but if not, I think I’ll be okay. I am my own spiritual life partner now. And if I give one-tenth the emotional, mental, and spiritual energy to myself that I once gave to support my husband and family — I think I am capable of achieving whatever goal I set before me.

I’m lucky, I think, in this love and acceptance of myself. I no longer need external validation from another person in order to feel whole or be happy.

I make myself happy.

I love myself.

I fulfill my own dreams.