As I sort through my overfull closet for something cool and summery to greet the sudden heat, I laugh at the metaphor that I have no room for a man in my life since I have no room in my closet for his clothes. I reflect on days divided between parenting teens, my many entrepreneurial adventures, volunteering, and maintaining a circle of wonderfully supportive friends. No room, no time either. There. That is that.

Giving up the dream of marriage to find something that isn’t a fantasy has thus far been an interesting journey. It was hard to let go of the rope when I didn’t know how far I’d fall. It was exactly in that letting go that I found I had actually already reached the bottom. This side of it, with all the work I’ve invested, the vista from the peak is worth the arduous climb to get here.

It has so many times felt like I am not making progress. I feel rather stuck and plateaued. Sometimes I’m afraid I don’t know how to be a partner. I was made to feel I was so inadequate for so long that now I go into an uncertainty I can be enough for anyone other than just me. It’s a dark place and I try to stay out of it. In my heart I feel like I am more than enough. Sometimes, though, I have to sort out his voice from my own and it gets rather noisy in my head.

We weren’t designed to be singular. Even Tom Hanks had Wilson. Maybe the momentum was and is still here and the dream, a different one, is still doable. It’s a matter of trusting the process that is taking me to it. I still hope. Hope when it is the right person time will be reallocated and room will be made; in my closet, in my heart.

“The hard part is letting God determine who is good. That means no rebounds. No one night stands. No more hiding.” unknown

About Lisette d. Johnson

Murder-Suicide Survivor, Mom, Writer, Speaker, Serial Volunteer in the Intimate Partner Violence and Sexual Assault Arena, Entrepreneur, &amp Friend. I survived, my kids survived, and I am here to tell the story.
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