This is not a love story that ends in me riding off in the sunset on a horse in a wedding dress with the man I love. Although that sounds like a romantic story I would like to read, it is not my story, not this story. This story most likely will end with me doing the same thing I did yesterday, hopefully in a new dress and fabulous shoes, but I will not be pining for love with another anymore. Rather, I will love myself completely, and I will be taking steps to be a bigger badass than I currently am.
This journey began in January 2020, around the same time coronavirus was starting to make headlines. A college roommate shared a few old pictures in our group chat with our other three roommates. Among the photos were a few from a night we all refer to as 'primary colors night'. I could try to explain why it is called that but I think it would just take all the fun out of it, so imagine why five college students would drunkenly name a night 'primary colors night', I'm sure you'll be close. All you need to know is that we were drinking and listening to music on a weekend. It was a wonderful night and looking at the pictures made me feel nostalgic, loved, safe, and happy. At the time, the feeling felt somewhat foreign; the person in the pictures seemed like a different woman, and I was curious about why I felt so different from her
. What had changed? Would that younger, carefree woman be proud of who I am now? What were her hopes and dreams and how have they changed over the years?
That was it. January 10, 2020, at 9 pm. I had no idea what was brewing inside me. Would I be on this journey if my friend hadn't shown me the photos? It feels like I have changed so much since January. I am changing for the better. My journey back to myself, to loving and healing, started just as subtly as COVID-19.