March 13, 2025
They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. That’s how I feel my approach to dating was like in my 20s. Something needs to change this year for me to obtain the result I’m looking for.
Growing up, I never saw myself as a future wife or future mother. I never imagined what my wedding would look like or fantasized about growing old and having grandkids. I also never faced myself and asked why this was the case. It seemed like for everyone else my age, dreaming about these things was as normal as breathing. I regret not exploring the “why” of this lack of dreaming when I was younger. I’ve always thought I could benefit from therapy, but the thought of someone poking and prodding around in my mind—someone exposing to the light the most sensitive and intimate parts of my thoughts and who I am—that fucking terrified me. I’ve never let someone in to really see me before. What if my thought patterns were so bizarre, so weird, that they couldn’t help me. The humiliation I would face knowing I couldn’t be helped.
This resulted in me dating from the approach of fear. Fear that I might choose a man that resulted in me being trapped in a marriage not much different from my parent’s marriage. A marriage with screaming and yelling and crying. I was projecting my own insecurities on any new potential relationship I could possibly get into. My relationship attempts were doomed from the start. This was my problem: I saw marriage as a trap. My hope is that therapy will help me reframe my thought patterns about what marriage can be. Retrain me on how I approach dating.
Therapy is an act of courage. It’s also an act of self-love. It represents the first steps in me becoming a greater version of myself and really treating this new vision of my future with careful planning, prepping, consideration, and the seriousness it deserves. This is where my love story truly begins, with myself. With uncovering the good, bad, and the ugly. With facing my insecurities head on with courage until they’re nothing but slain demons in my rear view mirror.
I stare at the newly scribbled in appointment for therapy in my calendar for Monday and I can’t help but feel hopeful.
Honey to Bear 