By Guest Blogger Lisa Halter
While growing up, I devotedly watched and replayed all of Disney’s princess themed movies, and the message I took from these sugar coated love stories, was that some day I will meet a man who will rescue me from all of my sadness and make me happy. I would like to quickly explain the reason why I put so much hope and energy into this idea as a little girl– my childhood was tumultuous, to put it mildly, and when the world around me seemed so out of control, I found it easier to escape into a daydream about how and when things would one day be better. Today I look back upon this naïve philosophy and shake my head at myself. It had never occurred to me that I didn’t need a man to rescue me, but rather, I could save myself.
A few months ago, I ended yet another long term relationship with someone whom I had lived with for 3 years. He was not sure if he wanted to marry me, and I thought that after this long together, he should know. Clocks are ticking here, biologically speaking (I am 32), and why should I waste the last bit of my youth waiting to see if this particular boyfriend would have a change of heart in a couple years?
About a month after I broke up with him, the self-abusive gears started to turn in my head, and my mean spiritedly inner voice demeaningly asked “What is wrong with you!?” It refused to be silenced. My sister, who is 2 years younger than me, was married at 21 and now has 3 children, a cat, a dog and a house to share with her soulmate. I have all of the things on this list except for the love of my life and kids.
