I’m a 42-year-old single love coach who struggles with relationships. Comical if you think about it. And not the first time I\u2019ve written about <\/span>this. <\/span><\/p>\n I spoke to my therapist about it today, and she said,<\/p>\n “Your biggest strength is also your weakness. It’s because you struggle so much that you’re drawn to this work.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n And lately, I’ve been running from the pain and struggles of relationships, and of life, really. <\/p>\n Instead of meeting it head-on, I’ve been trying to distract myself with nicotine, sugar, doomscrolling, sex, porn, and whatever I get my hands on to avoid feeling the despair I’ve been feeling.<\/p>\n Rather than feeling the disappointment, the loneliness, and the pain of my adult and childhood wounds, I’ll reach for something, anything, to not feel the discomfort of life.<\/p>\n And when I do that, I cut myself off from myself. I numb myself from feeling what I need to feel and learning what I need to learn from whatever situation I’m finding so painful to deal with.<\/p>\n When I cut myself off, I can’t work because my work is closely linked to my struggle. They are nearly the same.<\/p>\n To make things worse, I’m embarrassed to show you that I struggle so much with love, and when I try to hide that fact, my work becomes generic and formulaic. When I cut myself off from my heart, I cut myself off from my job. And then I feel even more down because I’m unable to work.<\/p>\n So that’s the truth. I’m embarrassed that I still haven’t figured out this love thing, and I’m trying to make a living by helping you figure it out.<\/p>\n This contradiction hit me hard recently when I experienced both the hope and disappointment of meeting someone new. <\/p>\n A few weeks ago, I met an incredible woman whom I was excited about, which doesn’t happen to me often.<\/p>\n I was smitten from the beginning. I had a feeling of knowing her before we’d even met.<\/p>\n What I loved about her from the get-go was her ability to connect emotionally and without judgment. Her emotional maturity helped me feel seen and safe. <\/p>\n And that touched me deeply. I didn’t have to hide my fears and insecurities around her, and for someone like me, that felt deeply healing.<\/p>\n When I showed her my anxieties, she said it made her feel closer to me.<\/p>\n One of my biggest desires in life is to be seen. And paradoxically, it’s also my biggest fear.<\/p>\n So, when I meet someone who can see me and with whom I also connect on multiple levels, I become hopeful.<\/p>\n Hopeful that I’d finally found someone to build something meaningful with – that I could stop searching and start creating the kind of relationship I’d been longing for.<\/p>\n But, unfortunately for me, throughout our time together, she realized that she still needed to grieve her ex, and that what she needed was a friend, not a lover.<\/p>\n “My heart isn’t quite ready, and I would want to give you ready,” she said. It stung, but it’s also beautiful.<\/p>\n I want ready. I deserve ready.<\/p>\n So, while I experienced disappointment, frustration, and the pain of not being chosen, I also got some much-needed clarity on several things.<\/p>\n This experience taught me three important things about myself:<\/p>\n To thank you for being part of this community, I’m offering 33% off yearly subscriptions this week – that’s $40 off the regular price of $60. Join as a paid subscriber to access all my most intimate writing (including this one), support my work, and help create a safe space for vulnerable conversations about love and relationships. <\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n
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