Falling in Love: A Constant Dream or a Failing Ambition?
Since I can remember, all I've ever wanted was to fall in love, to have a family, someone to hug sincerely, and someone I’d give my life for. It’s been 25 years of carrying that dream, and yet, it’s still as untouched as the day it first crossed my mind. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the importance of self-love, personal growth, and all the “build yourself up first” advice. But here’s the thing: sometimes I feel like by not chasing emotional independence or embracing the whole "you don’t need anyone" mentality, I’m somehow failing at being the epitome of a powerful woman.
And yet, the irony is, my biggest strength has always come from my family and the people I love. How can I be so dismissive of that? Why take away the credit where it’s due? People say happiness is an individual journey, but I’ve always found mine in connections, in shared moments. The idea of being fully self-reliant, emotionally untethered, sounds... lonely. So, is the whole “strong, independent woman” narrative what I fear, or am I just not fully understanding what’s expected of me?
I mean, I’ve done the independent thing. I moved countries alone three years ago, convinced there was something out there waiting for me to discover. And don’t get me wrong, I feel powerful for having made that leap, for being able to save money and pour it into this adventure. But now, nearly three years in, the adrenaline of that decision has worn off. And with that comes the creeping realization of what I left behind—my family, the closeness, all the support. What if this doesn’t work out in the end? Did I not try hard enough?
But let’s be real—what even is “the end”? For me, that’s when I die. So, is regret allowed in heaven? Probably not.
Look, I get falling in love with your career, your passions. I’m all for it. But deep down, it doesn’t fill the idea of happiness I’ve always dreamed of. So, forgive me if we have different opinions on this, but I feel like I shouldn’t have to apologize for wanting more than career success. And if I do, does that mean you should apologize too?
Because, if we’re honest, I grew up on the belief that your freedom ends where someone else’s begins. And I’ve lived by that. But now I’m wondering—am I just high on caffeine (without sugar, mind you)? Am I obsessed with doing everything, with being enough for myself, my life? Am I just too naïve to fully grasp reality? Why is the person next to me not enough? Am I enough?
I know I’m enough for my life—that’s for sure. It’s my life. But then, do we even belong to ourselves? Or do we belong to the people who helped shape us? I feel like I belong to the smile of my sister when she sees me, to the memories and the love I’ve shared with those close to me. Does that make me any less independent, though? Is it belonging that I crave? Maybe the feeling of not being fully understood is what’s been chasing me since day one. And if I find a sense of belonging, maybe that’s where I’ll find love. But then, why does that sound so terrifying?
Maybe I’m overthinking (classic me), but if I quit, what would I even be quitting on? We’re all living lives that feel so eerily similar sometimes, and yet we’re so fundamentally different. All I want is to be different from those who’ve never fallen in love. I don't have to quit. I have my whole life to figure it out. I’ll quit when there’s no more love to feel and no more words left to write.
Do you already love me, as I love you—the unknown reader? As I’m learning to love my endless questions? AS YOU’VE LOVED SOMEONE YOU’VE ONLY EVER DREAMT ABOUT?
