Lessons: Self Love

And a coven(t) of women friendships

Photo by Courtney Cook on Unsplash

“I now have a belief that everything that I was ever looking for in one romantic partner can only be found for me in a group of women. I really need a coven. It doesn't take a village, it takes a coven. Or a convent. All of us together. It's so precious. I think that's just going to deepen as time goes by. I hope so, because it feels right in my heart.”

~Elizabeth Gilbert

Like her, I strive to enjoy my solitude and to get very fond of myself.

My 2024 goal.

It’s interesting for me to reflect on this, because, like Elizabeth Gilbert, I have looked to relationships as fulfillment. I also have struggled for years with the idea of not having children, then on losing the ability to procreate, to now— not wanting children. I—like her—am childless.

Though she is older than I am now—in her fifties, what I realize, most interestingly, is that—

I want to remain childless.

It was one of my prayers when I tried to conceive, and wanted children—

“Please don’t let me hurt children, God. If I would scar them and damage them, please just don’t let me have them.”

Now, arguably, I believe that for most of us, our childhoods fuck us up, and that even good parents leave indelible scars on their children. That is unavoidable. I also am well aware that that those prayers of mine derived directly from fears of my own childhood and the scars that I bore and still bear.

However, now, I also think this—

The truth is, I’ve lived for twenty plus years as an adult without children. That affords time and a certain lifestyle. So, now, at 40, I like being childless and single much, much more often than I am unhappy with it. It challenges me, sure, living in this world without a nuclear family. In loneliness and solitude But it challenges me in a good way to grow and develop more.

I also like my autonomy and independence. I like to be—as my mom would say—footloose and fancy free. I have had many wonderful opportunities to travel and go on adventures, to read and write for hours and hours, delving into subjects and authors that fascinate me. To on a whim drive to the ocean for Thanksgiving or a fall break to another major city in Tennessee. Just because I felt like it.

I don’t have to negotiate my identity or values or how I how I spend my money or time.

Now, I decide what I want to do, what I need to do to feel good and to take care of myself, what I want for me.

I have a life that is also highly flexible. I have a very manageable work schedule and I have much time off; I also live very simply and keep my expenses low and so I am able to spend my money on experiences and travel. My time would certainly be eaten up with children and even with a partner, managing a house and shouldering them, emotionally, in support and love care…as I tend to do. Not to mention my ‘fun travel’ money.

I wouldn’t have as much time to write:

As I struggle to minimize my fears and oppressive voices of perfectionism and imposter syndrome to delve into the adventure of writing my memoir, I realize that it too would not be done (or would be much harder and take much longer) if I were a mother and a wife or partner.

Here’s the other bit—I also realize that too many men—since, unfortunately, that seems to be who I am mostly attracted to—that I go out with are not as half as fascinating as they see, to think themselves to be.

I grow bored. I would rather be reading a book or writing.

Now, I am sure fascinating men are out there. (Or the ones I would find interesting, better put.) But it takes time and effort to weed through them, and quite frankly, I realize that it’s just not worth my time right now. My time—to me—is too valuable. I want to focus on me.

I want to enjoy me and feed myself, in all sorts of ways—

I want to bask in the love and emotional support that my women friends give me. I want to be of service, in writing and teaching. I want to read and listen to podcasts to feed and stimulate my mind.

I want to write and receive letters and do kind and generous things for my neighbors and friends and those in my community.

I want to cook and eat good food. Try new cuisines and shop an ethnic markets.

I want to enjoy my life, the one that I’ve cultivated, the one that I worked so hard for.

I have known 18 years ago that I wanted to be an academic, a professor, higher ed educator and scholar/writer. I worked for my title of doctor and I realize that I give very much to those around me. I am learning to bask in that intense love that I have for others and pour it into myself. By the gallons.

As I drove home from Cleveland yesterday, for hours I listened to the voice of Elizabeth Gilbert on her older podcast and recent interviews. I listened to the ways in which she has recovered and grown from how she strove for validation and love constantly outside of herself, in her 20s and 30s. She has since realized that she could never get from another what she so desperately sought out—a love that was within her, both from her higher power and what only she could give herself.

That golden nugget of truth, combined, with how I need my women friends, is my antidote to life.

We are our own constant. We spend so much time alone, coming into this world and leaving it, alone.

Though our culture tries oh so desperately to convince women (and many of us internalize this greatly) that their worth is only in relationships to others—husbands, children, service-oriented jobs, friendships—we are just like any other human in this regard.

We do this life thing mostly alone. It just seems to take more of us longer to arrive at this conclusion because of cultural teachings, but really and truly—

We must choose ourselves. Prioritize and value ourselves.

My mother could not in her lifetime. I feel her and know that she is proud of me for doing this.

I recall something she always told me:

“Danielle, I think that [within you] you have everything you need…to do whatever you want to do.”

I’m doing it, mama. I am doing it.