Disclaimer: I’m divorced but sane. I am also a big champion of healthy relationships.
I was talking to someone I used to love or thought I loved, one of the two. We got to talking about why it had been so long that I had a partner. So I blurted out, “I am not good at this. I have poor taste in men. Or both. It can literally be both. I am just not good at any of this.”
I made no apologies for the first time in my adult life at being a failure at relationships.
Earlier in the week I had a chat with my BFF and she reminded me that perhaps I am okay at this, but I keep giving my magnanimous love to the wrong people.
At age 48, I can tell you that I am tired. My mind seems to wonder between “amor fati” and “spe”. I’ve been debating these states of being in my head for so long, yet come up with no conclusion. I have no answer.
I just have this sort of unattached place of holding, to which nothing is define. Yet I feel so many things, think so many things, but I keep coming back to my original thought: I am just not good at this.
And perhaps that is my amor fati, if so, then I am okay.