Finally

"I found it in me,
I found it finally.
I'm sure to keep it' cause I like it."

--India.Arie, "Strength, Courage, and Wisdom."

Um, where did October go?

For that matter, what happened to August and July?

I'm *stunned* at the calendar. Shocked. Perhaps even appalled. The weather has changed. The nights are longer. Curling season has begun. For a self-proclaimed "Summer Girl," fall usually comes with a bit of depression and anxiety about the closing of (yet another!) year, and thoughts of all I have forgotten to do or failed to become in the year that is ending.

This year is different.

While I still prefer the warmer weather and longer days (more time to play!), this particular fall is not bringing the typical fear. Earlier this summer, I was sure that it would, but now, everything is exciting and delightful, and I find myself...

Happier than I thought I would be.
Happier than I thought I could be.
Happier than I remember being. Kind of, ever. In my life.

And I think I know why.

I think, finally, after all the years of self-hatred and consequential abusive relationships, I think I finally like myself. Just as I am. All flawed and silly and ridiculous and tall and nosy and outgoing and plantastic.

It only took twenty-five fucking years. Since the day the bullying started, all I ever wanted was to wake up one day as someone else. Wake up shorter. Wake up dumber. Wake up cooler. Wake up in a different life, with a different name, in a different place, at a different time.

And yesterday when I was running (an insanely fast 7.5 miles in 58 minutes!!), I was laughing to myself. I love my life. I love where I am. I love who I have become. I love the uncertainty of what may come in the days, weeks, and months ahead. Suddenly, I don't need a 5-year plan or a 10-year plan or a ring on my finger to be happy.

Recently, I've been dating (YIKES!!!!!!!!!!). For a while, I was very intentionally dating a handful of people simultaneously. My tendency has been to focus too intently on one individual, hoping desperately that I could make it work, and then giving up certain parts of my identity to make that other person decide they wanted to stick around. I thought that by keeping "more than one horse in the race" I would save myself from falling into that same trap.

And then, my critical eye went to work, and suddenly that handful was culled to three (because the others were failing to meet BMR: basic minimum requirements. That's "I'm a dork who works for the government" speak).

And then to two (because I knew in my heart that I was leading the third guy on and I couldn't keep taking meals from the guy).

And then to one (because as much as humble me will admit that I'm not unattractive, in the end, I want someone to love me FIRST for my mind and not my rockin' body).

And then I started to panic. Because, (old way of thinking:) what happens if the last guy standing decides he doesn't really, really like me?

Then one becomes none and I'm alone. Again.

And here's where I smile, and laugh, and get a tear of joy in my eye. Because I'm not afraid anymore. I made this life that I love. I joined the band, auditioned for the a cappella group, finished the Half Ironman, and am curling up a storm. And I will continue to make a life that I love forever. It's a skill that I learned and practiced and will continue to refine all the days of my life--a life that I will share, undoubtedly, with a partner who loves me just as I am. Whoever he is.

And, though there are goals that I have and things about my life that I would absolutely change in order to reach those goals, I know that my core identity is not something that I will ever compromise. Ever again.

At the end of my divorce in 2008, I said something on the phone to my friend Heather that I have written down and referred to in dark times:

Two hands
Two feet
A heart
A brain

are all I need to make a life that I love.

I have those.