I just invented the word “singal.” At least I think I did. If it’s already in use, well then, great minds think alike and I’m sorry but I did do a quick Google search and all I found was a location in South Korea.
Single can be such a scary word, especially post-divorce in your twenties.
Young divorcées are fierce and should have a label to match. Hence, “singal.”
Definition: An unattached, independent woman.
But let’s not stop there. As a group, let’s further define this revolutionary divorce before 30 term!
Post your suggestions in the comment section under this article!
“Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
Divorce is my phoenix. It’s that moment everyone asks for and only few receive, to burn into the ashes and rise once more stronger, braver and wiser towards life.
I have succeeded in changing my life completely. I have succeeded in pulling myself out of grime and filth and nursing myself back to beauty- the beauty every woman holds.
However, I have spent so much time thinking that I am healing from the scars of a divorce- the failed marriage every woman hates to admit. I have blamed my scars on a man; I have blamed everything relating to the relationship and the partner I chose. I for a moment thought I was changing my life to get away from the last three years I wasted. I thought that this new me was embracing the woman I would of become had I not chosen to get married.
Have you noticed in the last two paragraphs how I mention, I chose? I chose the marriage. I chose the man.I chose the kind of love I wanted. I chose to stay for three years.
I am not healing from the scars of a divorce and wasted marriage, but rather I am healing from the choices a broken woman made far before she ever met the one relating to her three year lesson.
Divorce and marriage was but the stepping stones in learning a very important lesson: I grew up. I became a woman and I took responsibility for who I was, chose who I wanted to be, how I wanted to be treated and how I would be.
To state this sentence publicly has been something I have been milling over and wondering if it’s the best choice, as once again it holds me accountable for my actions on the Internet, where nothing is ever really removed. But I want to be accountable. I acknowledge that I am 100 percent responsible for the scars I have due to my three year lesson. I cannot blame my ex-husband, for I allowed it. I waited. I could of walked out way before I even got married, but I did not, because the worth I saw inside of myself was what he gave me in return.
I am responsibility for every nightmare, every flashback, every scar, every tear. I am responsible for I chose to accept it.
This is a very controversial statement I know, however, at one point I have to stop blaming and hating and I need to begin to move forward, and this is the only way I know. I cannot blame him for being who he is. I do not regret getting married either or the pain of the divorce. I do not regret it for the lessons I have gained has built me into someone I always dreamed of becoming when I was “grown up.”
Sitting here right now, typing this out, I feel proud of how far I have come and I am proud of who I have become. Where I am right now is opening the chapter for me to feel confident in the choices I make from her onwards.
So today, I received my divorce certificate and in celebration of this spectacularly hard lesson and the outcome of it, I would like to say that:
I now see the reason and the gift of being married and divorced: my ex-husband is the flames that dissolved and brought forth a new life and a woman proud, strong and happy.
Always remember to see the beauty in the lesson and who you are due to it.
Hey everybody! How’s it going? I know, it’s been a while. But here’s something that’s been on my mind lately:
Things are about to get real personal. You ready?
I have not had sex in 14 months. Or kissed anyone in 14 months. One guy tried to hold my hand, but I put a stop to that pretty quick. And 14 months ago, I was married. So, you know what I’m saying.
Yes. I’m counting in months. My abstinence is a newborn. Well, a toddler, now. Let’s be honest, my abstinence is walking, talking, and growing teeth. Soon it’ll be doing taxes. As the great Bridget Jones would say, ” it’s been so long, I think my virginity is growing back.”
What led me to this sensual desert? I’ll tell you.
Phase One: The first few months after things went kaput, I was in denial, mourning, and overall adjusting to changing the portrait I had painted of what my life would be. I was in that stage where if any other guy touched me, I probably would’ve broken down in tears. Not sexy. And if sexy, not a guy you wanna be with.
Phase Two: Feeling open to dating, but everyone around you is still getting used to you being single and all the guys who are single, still see you as married and imagine you’re an emotional hot mess, which, let’s face it, you probably are.
Phase Three: Decided to live with my parents for three months in between moving from Florida to New York City. They live in the middle of nowhere, and why in the world would I try to date anyone when I’m leaving in three months, currently living with my parents, and don’t have a car?
Phase Four: Finally, move to New York. Open to dating. But for some reason, nothing happens. I meet people. I do the OkCupid thing. I take classes and am involved in projects. And nothing has happened.
Three months go by. And here we are. It’s not that I haven’t had fun, been enjoying myself, been growing, learning, and loving life. It’s not that I haven’t moved all over the country in the past year and had the biggest mental and emotional overhaul of my life to date.
But this is where I am. And people are shocked when I tell them. But here’s the thing. I’m not.
The time has flown by, ladies. And like they always say, when it’s meant to happen, it will. I take solace in this.
I always joke that I could be a “one night stand” kind of gal. But you know what? I don’t think that’s true. Something is wired in me to where, for some reason, it simply doesn’t happen. I am a late bloomer, I think. First kiss didn’t come ’til I was 18 and it was with the man I ended up marrying.I sometimes say it’s my moral compass, but it’s not even that, really. I believe if I stood in a crowded room with my eyes closed and my lips puckered, for some cosmic, unknown reason, I would spend the hours without anyone penetrating the invisible protective orb around me.
So, what’s the good thing about this? Can we talk about that? Let’s spin this positively, shall we? For those of you who feel like me- like the words “dry spell” don’t even begin to cover it (it’s more like “water was never invented – what’s wa-ter?”)- listen up. It’s not so bad.
#1. You have time to spend on YOU. That’s right. Watch all the Doctor Who you want. Or, be productive and take that swing dance class. Or hell, both.
#2. You don’t have to spend time worrying about how you look, why all your clothes suck, must shave every six hours, must always look perfect even when sick and going to the pharmacy.
#3. You’re not consistently dealing with an emotional hangover from every male encounter where you have to pick up the little pieces from your still fragile heart.
#4. You don’t want it. You’re not looking for it. If it comes along, great, if not, great. And here’s the thing; I don’t mean this as a game. Like, if I pretend to not care the one will show up, so I’ll pretend to not care. REALLY DON’T CARE. Then, you know what? You really won’t care. It’s a win win. He shows up, great. He doesn’t, great. See how this one puts all that “alone forever” anxiety to rest?
#5. It’s empowering to know that YOU’RE responsible for your own happiness. Just because you haven’t “gotten any” in a while, or haven’t “been on a date.” Who cares? This doesn’t define you. Maybe it’s because I’m hypothyroid and I take my hormones with a glass of water each morning, but any and all “urges” are not dehabilitating. Really. You’re gonna be okay. You won’t die. You won’t shrivel up or grow cobwebs. Or forget. Or get bad.
#6. My conscience is clear. I know that I have requirements and standards for who sees me naked. And I want the next guy in my life to get that. To like it about me. Cause chances are, it’ll make him feel pretty freakin’ special, too.
Before I peace out, I want to be clear: This is not me condemning those who love to explore, be free, be wild. I admire you. Sincerely. Some days I wish I was more like you. Fact is, I’m just not. And I’m hoping I’m not alone out there. So, this is for the chicks who are doin’ it on their own. In every sense. Because people don’t often go to bat for us. Especially people without religious messages. So this is me, stepping up to the plate for the ladies who wait.
It’s not easy being divorced when the weather patterns call for cuddles. Those of us on the East Coast froze during power outages and lived by candlelight for a week during Hurricane Sandy and now we’re taking cover during a blizzard. Granted, power outages can be slightly romantic if you’re under blankets roasting marshmallows with your lover over those flames. But what if you’re a newly single twenty-something divorcée and the only warm body next to yours is that of your dog or cat?
Ladies, this is when you create your own retreat. I’m talking about the type of getaway that people pay thousands of dollars for just so they can connect with nature, enjoy solitude and get in touch with their feelings. Lucky you, this personal pampering experience can be yours for free! Just pretend the snow is sand and you’re all good.
Seriously though, here’s how to make the best of the blizzard:
Wow, this all sounds so much fun that I need to get off my computer and enjoy my own snow night!