I spent most of my life proving myself to other people.
When I was younger, it was my parents. Later, it was my bosses, my colleagues, even my friends. I wanted everyone to see me as capable, hardworking, reliable. And I was. I raised two children almost on my own, built a stable career, and never allowed myself to fall apart in public.
But inside, I was always exhausted. I kept pushing, year after year, convincing myself that if I stayed busy, I was moving forward. Then in my fifties, my body finally forced me to slow down. First it was little things: constant fatigue, headaches, sleepless nights. Then it was something bigger. A health scare that made me realize—I wasn’t invincible. I wasn’t guaranteed tomorrow.
That moment changed me. For the first time, I asked myself: What do I actually want, beyond responsibility? The answer surprised me. I want love. Not the kind of love I gave to everyone else for decades—my children, my job, my family. I want love for myself. Partnership. Laughter. Someone to hold my hand as we walk into this next chapter of life.
I’m 57 now. I don’t need to prove anything anymore. I don’t need to be perfect. I just want something real. Maybe that’s why I’m here, opening my heart after all these years—because I still believe it’s never too late to find love.
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