I know it hurts.
And when it happens, it brings up all that old heartbreak we may not have entirely let go of. We then hiccup grief for a minute, an hour, or perhaps a full day—and we may decide, in that very moment, that we never, ever want to date again.
But please remember, being stood up does not mean that we are a disappointment—it means they are.
I had to keep telling myself this the other night. The sweet little girl inside of me, who hasn’t fully grown up yet, was hurting. In fact, she was crushed.
It was a Friday night. I had gotten dressed up, done my hair, put on makeup (a rare activity in my world), and I was ready to head out for my date.
Then I got the text: “Was it tonight…our date? I have to cancel.” Followed by nothing else. F*ck.
I knew logically it was not a big deal—there were many things I could do that night instead—but the disappointment stung. It seeped into my most sensitive spaces and brought up the past in a way that made me feel like a child again, like a small powerless one.
There is a teaching in everything though, and my reaction to this made me realize that instead of dating him that night, I actually needed to date myself.
So I began by writing a letter to the one who had been stood up—a letter I’d meant to write for a while, one that was meant for the little darling in me who still craved love, acceptance and praise, for I believe many of us have this wounded child still inside of us, and sometimes she needs some extra care.
Dear beautiful, stood-up one,
There are a few things I’ve been meaning to tell you…
I waited all these years to say this, because I wanted you to be ready to hear them—and now you are.
When I first met you, I thought you were perfect. Not like the picture-perfect they sell in magazines, but you were perfect at being you—which meant slightly awkward, incredibly lovable and completely unique.
By the lines that crisscrossed your hands, I could see you were an old soul, made of something tough, and you proved that to me.
So know now, that through any grey, mist-kissed moments, you have always had the strength to find your way back out.
Because I have seen how—when the seas get rough and the waves of life crash on you—it only serves to help you perfect the art of diving deep.
You don’t know this, but you make me proud with your ability to pick yourself up, sometimes several times a day.
So this disappointment now—dear, remember it could never be about you. Another person comes with their own baggage. We actually have no idea what is happening in their world.
Don’t ever trade your sparkle to try to keep in sync with someone else’s less than shiny one.
Remember your strength in the tender bruises you carry, because they show you know how to fight—and still do.
Don’t allow this to make you give up, not even a square, an inch or a millimeter—Keep moving on.
Trust the things that don’t work out.
Eventually, we realize that any disappointment was here to make life a little more interesting.
Every moment is an opportunity to find something better. Believe this, because I know you have the power to unwrap, discard and renew.
Remember, you are spirited and free.
Take the next turn offered, and accept that the dead ends were not meant to happen.
You are more than beautiful. It is okay to be alone.
And when you are lonely, use that time to recall what it is your unique spirit truly wants and begin to create it.
Ask for it.
Scream for it.
Howl your deepest desires at the moon. You deserve them all.
Understand this emptiness right now is the pause where creation occurs.
Something big is on its way.
Don’t be sad, dear one, about this disappointment—for it is not a reflection of your light. I see you and you are brilliant and shining.
Remember, it is me saying this, the one who has always known and loved every bit of you.
We each have been let down and hurt; life won’t allow us to get out without a little heartache here and there. But remember, dears, that this disappointment is the perfect time to have a sweet date with ourselves—one in which we cherish and love the perfection of who we are by tenderly telling ourselves so.
We need to remember that we are precious and unique, and no matter how another treats us, our light will continue to grow.
Author: Sarah Norrad
Image: Flickr/Henadz Freshphoto.ru
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina