Last year, I cut out almost my entire friend group. At the beginning of February, I found myself single again. I was in complete solitude, facing emotions that were ripping my heart apart. I had to learn how to nourish my own soul. I had to learn how to wrap my heart in comfort, alone. I had brief online conversations and interactions, but ultimately, I withdrew into myself. I had to.
As I slowly opened up, venturing out and reconnecting with friends, I realized something. When I talk to people, I gain a deeper understanding of myself. I am able to quiet the parts of my mind that whisper, Maybe it is in your head. Maybe it really was not that big of a deal. I started questioning myself, questioning my morals and my values. If I am completely honest, I still am at moments.
We need people to help us process the chaotic world within our minds. Sometimes, our thoughts are just our mind’s way of trying to hold on. But I am learning to let go a little more every day. I heard a psychologist say that if you still think of someone before bed and first thing in the morning, it can take six to eight months to truly let them go. That truth resonates with me. I do not think it will take that long, but I do know it will take more than a month.
One of the biggest internal debates I have had is about maintaining friendships with people I have had a sexual relationship with. I am not talking about casual social media acquaintances. I mean close friendships. In my experience, if a friendship begins as purely platonic, it must stay that way to remain truly and deeply platonic. Once intimacy enters the picture, the dynamic changes. It is never quite the same. Period.
If someone has had sex with most of their friend group, there needs to be serious contemplation about why they struggle to let people go and why they cannot maintain friendships without sex. Being friends with someone you have shared that level of connection with carries an underlying sexual energy and tension, something deeper than just friendship. This kind of friendship is not one I can maintain. I feel too deeply about people.
As I write this, I feel the truth of it within me. For me, intimacy of that nature is meant to be shared between partners. It is a sacred bond, which is probably why I could never embrace the idea of sleeping around. It is why I form attachments to every person I sleep with. These revelations about myself make it clear how careful I need to be about who I allow to touch my body, who I allow to join with me in this way. It is crucial for me, and it is a lesson I have finally learned. Sex is beautiful, but not at this cost.
When I am alone and not holding onto someone, I am able to hear my own inner voice and feel the deep peace within me. A friend recently told me that I help make sense of the chaos and that my peace brings him peace. That made me realize something. My purpose is making sense of chaos, and my gift is helping others find the peace that already exists within them. It is not my job to keep doing this for others, but I do feel called to teach people how to make sense of their own chaos, how to listen to their own inner voice, and how to recognize what they are feeling is them.
I am not entirely sure how I will accomplish this yet, but I know it starts with my own inner work. It starts with listening. By being true to myself and honoring the morals and values I hold in this life, I will eventually attract people who share the same. I will cultivate deep friendships. And one day, I will attract my divine counterpart.
Until then, I will lean into myself. For I am never truly alone because I am always here.
Anna Marie 