Even though I’m dating someone and have a boyfriend, I still identify as a single person—because my day-to-day life reflects that reality. We don’t live together. We haven’t enmeshed our finances, our schedules, or our responsibilities. My life isn’t shaped by shared chores or joint decision-making. When you’re in a cohabiting or marriage-like relationship, you’re deeply intertwined—emotionally, logistically, sometimes even legally. That kind of entanglement comes with a different level of responsibility, compromise, and challenge. My experience, as someone who lives independently and parents solo, is fundamentally different. So when I write about feeling good while being single, I’m writing from that place.

There’s something powerful about this stage of life—not because it’s easy, but because it offers a rare opportunity: the chance to truly connect with yourself.

When you’re not orbiting around someone else’s needs or expectations, you get space to ask: What do I want? What actually feels good? What kind of life do I want to build, just for me? It’s a shift from reacting to others to responding to your own inner world.

And yet, self-connection isn’t something that just “happens” because you’re alone. It’s something you practice. You make room for it. You lean into it—sometimes awkwardly, sometimes joyfully.

For me, that practice starts with intentional alone time. I don’t mean scrolling on the couch or zoning out in front of a show—though that has its place. I mean spending time in my garden, grounding myself in the physical world. I read long thought pieces that stretch my thinking. I go on walks without a podcast and let my thoughts wander. These quiet moments create space for my inner voice to speak up.

After my divorce, I spent a long time looking at past relationships, friendships, and even work projects, noticing recurring themes. Did I keep saying yes when I wanted to say no? Did I feel like I was always managing someone else’s emotions? Was I thriving or just surviving? Those patterns weren’t mistakes—they were data. Learning from them helped me stop repeating cycles and start choosing differently.

Trying new things has been another powerful way to get to know myself better. I’m not talking about a dramatic life overhaul—sometimes it’s as simple as joining a local class, exploring a new park with my daughter, or taking myself on a solo trip. Each time I step outside my routine, I discover more about what excites me, what challenges me, and what I want more (or less) of in my life.

And I’ve learned to listen to my body. It often knows what I need before my mind catches up. If I feel tense every time I walk into a certain space or drained after a conversation, I pay attention. If I feel light, calm, or energized, I ask why. Our bodies hold truth that we’re sometimes too busy or too distracted to notice.

Over time, I’ve also taken the step of defining my core values. Not the ones I think I should have, but the ones that actually shape my decisions. Autonomy. Integrity. Play. Stability. These are the things I try to align my life around. And when I do, I feel more grounded. More me.

Sometimes I even ask trusted friends what they see in me—what lights me up, where I seem stuck, what they admire. Their perspective can be clarifying in ways I wouldn’t expect. We don’t always see ourselves clearly until someone reflects us back to ourselves.

This process isn’t about achieving perfection or becoming someone new. It’s about shedding the noise and tuning into who I already am underneath it all. The more I get to know myself, the more rooted I feel in my own life. The more confident I become in my choices. And the less tempted I am to look outside myself for answers or approval.

Being single isn’t a waiting room for something better. It’s not a temporary holding pattern. It’s a whole, rich, meaningful way of being. One where you can say yes to yourself, every day.

You’re not waiting to be chosen. You’re choosing yourself—over and over again.