I keep hoping that one day, I’ll wake up and decide that I am enough. Yes, just me: me alone, me on my own. The single me I’ve been for approximately the past decade, anyway. Why not just make peace with me, rather than wishing and waiting and hoping and endlessly, painfully expecting that some wonderful person who really wants to be with me is going to walk through the door and into my life? Instead, I feel as though I am merely single by default — involuntarily, if you will. Just look at the model in this postcard! God, how I’d love to be that joyful and decisive about the prospect of choosing me, as my own source of love and fulfillment. I suppose there have been days I’ve genuinely felt like I chose myself. Days when I was brave enough (or just fed-up enough) to finally let go of half-assed boyfriends, or emotionally frozen relationships, or to men who projected an image of me I could never fulfill. In that sense, choosing me meant saying no to what wasn’t right for me. But I’ve had quite enough of saying no. Instead, I want to start saying yes — to choosing and affirming something wonderful. Spiritual wisdom tells me I don’t have to go “looking” for it; that it’s a matter of acknowledging and expressing gratitude for what’s right in front of me, already. So maybe I’ll start with the closest thing around. Which would mean looking at myself in the mirror and simply smiling, and saying something appreciative and affirming to the person looking back at me. I will look straight into my own eyes, like I’ve always wanted someone else to do. Love will just have to start with me. ❤️‍🔥—Y.B.D.