I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the chances we get in life, and specifically love. As someone who is twice divorced, this is a hot topic for me and one that I’ve thought about very differently over the years.
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When I was young, I believed in one soulmate. That there was this one person out there who was your perfect match. The logistics of you never running into them never occurred to me. There was this soulmate and eventually I would meet him. We would just know, and we would hold on to each other. Then we would live out our lives like a Disney movie…. happily ever after. When I met my first husband, I believed he was it. We had the deep instant connection. He wasn’t afraid of being with me or committing to me. Everything was wonderful. Until I got divorced.
After that I was faced with the downfall of my belief system. After all, if this had been my one soulmate, then I was doomed right? But I was still young and full of hope. And so I chose to believe that I wasn’t doomed yet. But I was soured on the idea of a soulmate. I moved on to believing there were lots of people you could work with, you just had to find the right one. And my ever optimistic heart met husband number two and believed he was that right one. I believed we were going to make happiness and grow old together. Everything was wonderful. Until I got divorced again.
After that I was much less optimistic. At first I was determined to learn to stand on my own two feet. Having spent over a decade either married or in a serious relationship, I no longer knew how to be alone. In fact, I probably never knew. So I was going to learn. And that was my main focus. Gradually, I realized I had that part under control and the problem became that I no longer blindly believed there was someone out there for me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure that I would ever find someone else to love. I was no longer confident that I wouldn’t die alone. I was no longer sure.
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