Welcome back to Unfiltered with Love. I'm your host, Carrie Love, and I'm so glad you're here. Let's get into today's conversation. So I had a kind of an epiphany this week, and it sounds really simple when I say it out loud, but it actually took me a while to get here. I realized it's okay that I don't want to be alone. Not because I can't be alone, that's actually the whole point. I can. I've done it. I've done it in a lot of different ways for a lot of my life. I'm an only child, so I learned how to be by myself pretty early. And when I say I've been alone a lot in my life, I don't just mean single. I mean alone in different ways. As an only child, I learned how to entertain myself. I learned how to make my own fun. I learned how to be inside my own little world and be okay there. You know, when you're an only child, a lot of the times you're playing in your room by yourself. And that's why you always hear about the kids that are only children, they have imaginary friends. Now, I never had an imaginary friend, but I did have to play a lot by myself. And there were times when I wasn't by myself, I was surrounded by a lot of adults. Then later in life, there were other kinds of alone. I was married for a long time, and if I'm being honest, there were times in that marriage when I felt lonely. A lot of times. And I think that's important because being married and being connected aren't necessarily the same thing. You have another person in the house, you can technically have a partner, and still feel like you're caring a lot by yourself. Because let's be honest, nothing against my ex-husband, but he was a lot of times physically present, but not present present. So, you know, I felt lonely within my marriage a lot of the time. I also raised my kids carrying a lot of the responsibility myself. So even within this structure that looked like a family and a partnership from the outside, there were still times when I felt very much like, okay, I guess I'm handling this. And then after the divorce, there was a completely different kind of alone. Suddenly there wasn't another adult built into the structure of my life anymore. Every decision was mine, every problem was mine, every bill was mine, every plan. And then there's the emotional part of rebuilding too. Trying to figure out who you are now, what your life looks like now, where you're going, what do you want, what happens next. That can be lonely in an entirely different way. So when people say you need to learn how to be alone, I'm kind of like, trust me, uh, I know. I don't really think learning how to be alone is my lesson anymore. I think I've learned that one probably several times. And for a long time, I think I wore that independence almost like a badge. Like, I can do this. I don't need anybody. I'll go figure it out. And there's so much messaging around that, especially for women. Take yourself to dinner, travel alone, choose yourself, buy yourself the flowers. I mean, Miley Cyrus literally wrote a whole song about it. You know, and I actually love that message. I really do. I think we absolutely should learn how to enjoy our own company. I think we should build lives we actually like, go on the trip even if nobody can come with us. I think we should buy ourselves the flowers. But I started thinking about the whole idea a little differently this week. Because maybe the reason so many people are buying themselves the flowers, taking themselves to dinner, planning every trip, making every decision, doing every little thing for themselves is because nobody else is doing it with them. And I'm not sure the answer is always to romanticize that. Sometimes doing things for yourself is freedom. Sometimes it's empowerment, and sometimes it's adaptation. It's what you do because you have to, and maybe there's a difference. I can buy myself flowers. I have bought myself flowers, but if the only reason I'm always the one buying them is because nobody else ever thinks to, I'm not sure convincing myself that I shouldn't want someone else to bring them is actually healing. Maybe sometimes we use all this self-love language to talk ourselves out of admitting that we want to be cared for. And I don't think wanting that makes us weak. I think maybe the more honest question is, what if I can buy myself the flowers and I'd still really love somebody else to bring me some? Why are those things mutually exclusive? Why does being capable of giving something to myself mean I'm not allowed to want to receive it from someone I love? And I think that's really what clicked for me. There's a difference between being unable to be alone and having been alone long enough. And I think I've been alone long enough. Not necessarily physically alone every second. That's not what I mean. Because honestly, sometimes I like being physically alone. I like quiet. I like being able to do what I want. I like having my own space. What I'm talking about is something different. I'm talking about carrying everything alone. And I think this is the distinction I'm finally understanding. Sometimes I don't mind being by myself at all. And come on, I'm an only child. But what wears me down is feeling like every single thing is mine to carry. Work, money, the house, the future, decisions, things that break, things that need to be handled, the normal everyday mental load of being the person who has to think about everything. And lately there have been moments when I've just felt overwhelmed by all of it. Not because I don't think I can handle it, I know I can. That's almost the problem. I know I'll figure it out because I always do. But I had this moment where I thought, I'm tired of holding all of it alone. And sometimes it's not even one huge thing. It's 20 little things all needing your attention at once. And I think that's what I've been feeling lately. Not I can't do this, more like I'm tired of being the only one who has to think about everything. Sometimes I don't want to make every decision. I don't want every decision to be mine. Sometimes I want somebody else to say, I'll take care of that, or let's figure this out together. And I don't think wanting that means I'm incapable. I think it just means I'm human. And that was different. I wasn't thinking, I need somebody to fix this for me. I wasn't looking for somebody to rescue me. I just found myself wishing there was another person in the room saying, okay, what are we going to do? Not what are you going to do? What are we going to do? And I think that's what partnership means to me now. It's not about being incapable of making my own decisions. It's not about somebody taking over my life. It's sharing a life. And when I say I want partnership, I'm not even necessarily talking about some huge romantic movie version of it. Honestly, a lot of what I want is really ordinary. I want someone to come home to, somebody to talk to about stupid thing that happened during my day, someone to make dinner with, to sit on the couch with somebody and do absolutely nothing. But I also want somebody there when something breaks in the house and we have to figure out what the hell we're going to do about it. Because I don't know. I want the really great moments and the completely boring ones, because that's life. And I think being in love again brought that realization to the surface in a way I wasn't expecting. After my marriage ended, there was a part of me that honestly wondered if I would ever feel deeply in love again. And then I did. And that awakened something in me, not just feelings for one particular person. It reminded me that I still want intimacy. I want companionship. I want emotional closeness. I still want to know somebody deeply and have them know me deeply. I still want a future created with someone instead of just having somebody who exists alongside my life. And I think for a while that scared me because I'm very sensitive to the idea of being needy. I don't ever want somebody thinking I need them in order to survive. I don't want to be perceived as weak, and I've talked about this before. I was dependent on my husband during my marriage in a lot of ways. We were married for a long time. Our lives were completely intertwined. And when that marriage ended, untangling everything was incredibly difficult. I had to figure out who I was outside of that structure. I had to rebuild financially, rebuild emotionally, and rebuild my life. And I think somewhere in there I made this quiet promise to myself, I am never going to be that dependent on another person again. And honestly, I still understand that. I don't want my entire sense of security tied to whether somebody stays. I don't want my life to collapse because another person chooses to leave. But I think I made a mistake somewhere along the way. I started thinking there were only two options. Either you're independent or you're dependent. But maybe there's another option. And I'm really liking this word. Interdependence. Two people who are capable of standing on their own but intentionally choose to stand together. That feels completely different to me. I don't want somebody because I can't live without them. I want somebody because I want to build a life with them. And I think maybe love isn't about finding someone you can't live without. Maybe it's finding someone you don't want to build your life without. That distinction really matters to me. Because I don't want a relationship based on fear of being alone. I don't want just anybody beside me. I don't want a placeholder. I don't want to stay with the wrong person just to say I have someone. I would rather be alone than do that. I know that about myself. But there is a huge difference between saying I would rather be alone than be with the wrong person, and saying, I'm not allowed to want a relationship because wanting one somehow means I haven't healed. No, I don't believe that anymore. And I think our culture gets a little weird about this. We talk so much about choosing yourself and being enough for yourself and not needing anybody that sometimes it almost feels embarrassing to admit, actually, I would really like somebody. I would really like partnership. And this week, after I'd already been thinking about all of this, I came across an article called, It's okay to not want to be alone. And I remember reading it and thinking, yes, that's exactly it. Because wanting connection doesn't mean there's something wrong with me. Wanting companionship doesn't mean I'm incomplete. Wanting somebody to share my life with doesn't erase everything I'm capable of doing on my own. And maybe we don't talk about that side of healing enough. Maybe healing isn't becoming so self-sufficient that we no longer want human connection. Maybe healing can also mean becoming secure enough to admit what we actually want. And I think being in a long-distance relationship really brought this into focus for me too. Because you can have wonderful visits and you can talk every day, you can love somebody deeply, you can feel very connected and still have two completely separate lives. And at some point I realized wonderful weekends are wonderful, but I don't think wonderful weekends are the ultimate relationship structure I want forever. I want love to eventually become a shared life. And I had to let myself say that without immediately following it with, is that too much? Am I being needy? Should I just be happy with what I have? Wanting something doesn't mean I'm demanding it. It doesn't mean everything has to happen tomorrow. It just means I'm being honest with myself about what kind of life I ultimately want. And I think that's important. You can appreciate what you have right now and still be honest about what you eventually want. Those things can exist at the same time. And maybe that's the biggest shift for me. I don't need to prove I can survive alone anymore. I have enough evidence. I know I can, and I can buy myself the damn flowers. I know all of that. But maybe the question now isn't, can I do life alone? Maybe the question is, do I want to? And my answer is not forever. I want love. I want companionship. I want partnership. I want a shared life. And I'm finally realizing that saying those things out loud doesn't make me weak. It doesn't undo my independence. It doesn't mean I need somebody to complete me. Maybe I'm already whole. Maybe the other person is already whole. And maybe we're just two whole people saying, life could be pretty amazing if we shared some of it. I like that idea a lot better. So I think the question I'm sitting with now is this at what point does I can do it alone stop being empowerment and start becoming a life you don't actually want anymore? And I don't think there's one answer. Some people genuinely love being alone. They don't want a partnership. Some people want a lot of space and independence, and that's completely valid. But I think it has to equally be valid to say I do want partnership. I do want love. I do want somebody to share my life with. And I don't think I have to apologize for wanting that anymore. I don't want to be rescued. I don't want to be completed. I don't need to prove that I can survive alone. I already know I can. I just don't want being alone to be the permanent default of my life. And there's a difference. Thanks for hanging out with me today. If you enjoyed this conversation, I'd love to hear from you. Send me a message, leave a review, or share this episode with someone who might need it. And before I go, have you ever confused being capable of being alone with actually wanting to be alone? And maybe the bigger question is, what do you actually want when you stop worrying about what wanting it says about you? Until next time, keep asking good questions, keep being curious, and most importantly, keep showing up as yourself. This is Unfiltered with Love. I'm your host, Carrie Love. I'll see you next week.