It’s Official, I’m Engaged and Off the Market for GOOD!

Aug 10

7 min read

Chapter 48: The Morning I Proposed to Myself

The morning of my forty-eighth birthday wasn't filled with balloons, breakfast in bed, or a fairytale declaration of love.

It began with silence.

The kind of silence that lingers after an argument has exhausted every word but solved nothing.

Just hours before, I had once again found myself defending a crime I didn't commit.

According to my boyfriend, the men from my past old friends, former acquaintances, even people I hadn't heard from in years weren't simply reconnecting. In his mind, their reappearance could only mean one thing: that I'd been leaving doors cracked open all along. That every conversation, every message, every friendly exchange had secretly been an invitation.

It didn't matter that I knew my own intentions.

It didn't matter that I'd been faithful.

His conclusions had already been written.

What hurt wasn't just the accusation.

It was realizing that someone who claimed to know me so well could believe so little of my character.

Trust isn't built by proving your innocence every week.

Love isn't sustained by living under investigation.

As the sun rose on my birthday, I realized I was spending more energy convincing someone else of my loyalty than I was investing in my own future.

That realization changed everything.

Instead of searching for ways to fix us, I quietly opened my laptop and began searching for ways to rebuild me.

Being an artist has always been more than a hobby.

It's my language.

My therapy.

My contribution to the world.

That morning, I discovered artist housing opportunities I had never seriously considered before. Communities that believed artists deserved beautiful places to live. Places where part of the rent could even be offset by creating artwork for the community.

For the first time in a long time...

Hope walked into the room.

I added my name to waiting lists.

Downloaded applications.

Read every requirement.

Professional references.

Personal references.

A portfolio.

Suddenly, my future wasn't a question.

It was a checklist.

Then I remembered something he had once said.

"The last thing you could ever say to me is that you'll end up on the streets without me."

Maybe it wasn't intended as a threat.

Maybe it was frustration speaking.

But those words landed somewhere deep inside me.

Because I realized something.

No one who truly loves you should ever become comfortable imagining your life without them ending in ruin.

His words didn't scare me.

They motivated me.

I wasn't going to prove him wrong.

I was going to prove myself right.

That I could build a beautiful life regardless of who walked beside me.

Ironically, before the night was over, he found a way back into my arms.

We made love.

But something was missing.

Not affection.

Not attraction.

Connection.

It felt like two lonely people trying to quiet different fears.

When it was over, I didn't feel closer.

I felt emptier.

It wasn't the intimacy I had been craving.

It was reassurance.

Security.

Partnership.

A love that didn't require me to constantly defend my worth.

I realized then that physical closeness can't repair emotional distance.

So while he slept, I drew myself a bath.

I filled the tub with warm water until the room filled with steam.

I scattered rose petals across the surface.

Lit candles.

Added Epsom salts and fragrant oils.

The soft glow reflected against the walls as if the room itself was telling me to slow down.

I let the water hold me.

Not to erase the pain.

But to remind me that healing sometimes begins in quiet places.

I knew he would probably never apologize in the way I needed.

And for the first time...

I realized I didn't need him to.

Closure wasn't something he could give me.

It was something I could choose.

Somewhere between the flicker of candlelight and the warmth of that bath, I stopped waiting for an official ending.

For months I'd convinced myself I couldn't move forward until there was a dramatic breakup.

Until someone packed boxes.

Until someone slammed a door.

Until someone declared it was over.

But why?

He had already told me exactly what this relationship was.

"We're just running our course."

Those words echoed in my mind.

Running our course.

Not building a future.

Not making plans.

Not choosing forever.

Simply... seeing where things go.

I finally understood something.

If he was content living one chapter at a time...

I needed to start writing my own book.

That night, while soaking in that healing bath, I accepted a proposal.

My own.

I chose me.

I promised to stop pouring forever-level commitment into a relationship that was only being measured one day at a time.

I promised to redirect that energy toward the woman who would always be with me.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror.

The future me.

The artist who still had paintings left to create.

The student preparing for radiology prerequisites so she could begin school in the fall.

The healthcare professional applying for a full-time hospital position.

The woman submitting an application to Bremen 282, hoping for an artist apartment where creativity could flourish.

The woman saving every dollar toward a reliable vehicle.

The woman who imagined loading her Vespa into a larger vehicle someday, commuting between East Boston and Milford, building a life one practical decision at a time.

It wasn't glamorous.

It wasn't a fairy tale.

It was better.

It was a plan.

A future.

A promise.

People often think engagement begins when someone gets down on one knee.

Mine began when I stood back up.

Chapter 48 isn't about giving up on love.

It's about refusing to abandon myself while waiting for someone else to decide whether I'm worth choosing.

If romantic love finds me someday, I hope it meets a woman who already knows her value.

A woman who has built a beautiful life instead of waiting to be rescued into one.

But if it doesn't...

My life will still be full.

Filled with paint-covered hands.

Gardens that feed my soul.

Hospital hallways where I make a difference.

Art hanging on walls.

Train rides with my Vespa.

New beginnings.

Quiet mornings.

Loud laughter.

Peace.

This birthday wasn't the day someone asked me to marry them.

It was the day I asked myself.

And without hesitation...

I said yes.

Welcome to Chapter 48.

The year I stopped waiting to be chosen and started building a life worthy of the woman I'm becoming.

There comes a point in every woman's life when she stops waiting for permission to start living.

For some, it's after a wedding.

For others, it's after a divorce.

For me...

It's Chapter 48.

People keep asking me if I'm engaged.

I smile and say, "Yes."

Then they wait for me to point to a man.

Instead, I point to myself.

Because the truth is, I finally said yes to the one person who has never been able to walk away from me.

Me.

I've spent years making plans for everyone else's future. I've poured my love into relationships, dreams, businesses, family, and people I hoped would choose me as fiercely as I chose them.

Some stayed.

Some didn't.

Some were only meant to walk beside me until our paths separated.

And that's okay.

I have a partner now. He's kind, he makes me laugh, and our story is unfolding one day at a time. But I've learned something beautiful: not every relationship is meant to last forever. Some people are chapters. Some are seasons. Some are teachers. We may walk together until we reach the end of our road, and if that day comes, I'll be grateful for the journey instead of angry about the ending.

Because my forever was never supposed to depend on another person.

It was always supposed to begin with me.

So this year, I bought myself a ring.

Not because I was giving up on love.

Not because I don't believe in marriage.

Quite the opposite.

I believe marriage is one of the most sacred promises we can make.

Which is exactly why I made one to myself first.

I promised to stop abandoning my dreams every time life became inconvenient.

I promised to invest in my future instead of waiting for someone else to build it with me.

I promised to celebrate my accomplishments without waiting for someone to buy me flowers.

I promised to protect my peace.

To choose joy.

To travel.

To create.

To save.

To build businesses.

To grow gardens.

To make art.

To laugh louder.

To take care of the woman who has carried me through every heartbreak, every disappointment, every triumph, and every new beginning.

She's earned it.

People joke that my relationship is "as secure as mascara in the rain."

Maybe they're right.

Nothing in life comes with a lifetime guarantee.

Not relationships.

Not careers.

Not health.

Not tomorrow.

But there is one relationship I know I'll wake up to every single morning.

The one I have with myself.

So I stopped waiting for life to begin after someone else's proposal.

I became my own proposal.

I became my own promise.

I became my own happily ever after.

Chapter 48 isn't about being alone.

It's about being complete.

It's about realizing that the future version of me deserves the same planning, commitment, protection, and devotion that I would gladly give a spouse.

I'm saving for her.

Building businesses for her.

Buying property for her.

Growing food for her.

Creating art for her.

Protecting her peace.

Taking care of her body.

Making memories she'll one day look back on with gratitude.

I'm engaged to my future.

And every decision I make today is part of planning the wedding between the woman I am and the woman I'm becoming.