Somewhere in the last few months I became a woman. I'm not sure if I already was and I just came to see it, perhaps through the eyes of the new male in my life; or whether it's an entirely new development. I'm not even sure what it means to be a woman, as opposed to a girl. I just know that I feel different. I feel more adult. I feel more autonomous, more self-directing.
When I signed my rent cheque at the beginning of this month, a smile spread across my face. I realized that I'd earned every last penny myself. I'd worked through fatigue, pain and sleepless nights to pay my bills. I'd found a way to get through. And I made it. I'd proved to myself that I could take care of myself.
And then there's the new relationships I've been exploring. I have been able to enjoy someone's company, intimately even, and then let them go, without requiring commitments or promises or declarations of affection. To let go has been a profound learning for me. To face all the needy bits in myself that want to hold on for dear life; all the hurt, broken parts of me that crave closeness for its own sake. To look at the patterns of addiction that have ruled my life and see that there is a better way to live. That love is letting go. That love is what's here right now in this moment. That what is truly real is present between breaths. No more, no less.
So yes, I've become a woman. I have arrived. And it feels good.