As I start to think about closing out my year, I usually take inventory of many things—relationships being one of them. This year has been a big transition, not only in my relationships with others but also in my relationship with myself. I began the year with the motto, "I'm doing it for me," and it turned into a year full of lessons. I would love to say that I’m on the other side of all this, but I’m not. This has been a painful yet healing year, and though I haven’t felt the fruit of it quite yet, I know I’m better for it.
I’ve realized that I’ve spent most of my life living in a state of delusion when it came to how I built—or thought I had built—meaningful relationships. There’s nothing worse than discovering that what you thought was deep and meaningful was not being mirrored back to you. I took this year to create boundaries and look inward to understand why I kept ending up in the same place.
One of the things I’ve learned is that I wasn’t fully aligned with the people in my life. I had been treating all relationships the same, without realizing that I needed something more. I craved a sense of community so deeply that I interacted with everyone—from strangers to what I thought were close friends—as if they were core members of my tribe.
As I spent time crying over the loss of some relationships and adjusting my expectations of others, I came to a realization: I needed this sense of community. The people I was involved with already had their own communities outside of me. In most cases, I was the friend they turned to when they needed a break from their personal lives—a time out, if you will. They wanted to have fun, to get away from it all, and at the end of the activity, everyone returned to their busy lives. Meanwhile, I was left feeling unfulfilled. I didn’t have the responsibilities that come with intimate partners and children, and my family isn’t close at all. I was missing the aspect of having a personal life with people I could connect with on a deeper level—someone I could share my ups and downs with.
So, I found myself trying to make these "light connecting" relationships deeper than they were. When I realized I was doing this because of my need for community, I felt devastated. I had assumed that since we all loved spending time together, we must have been in agreement that these relationships were deep. But I was wrong, and my heart stayed broken.
I asked myself a simple question: If I were married or had children, would I increase my level of engagement in these relationships? The answer was no. If I had a life filled with the responsibilities of marriage, children, and/or a close-knit family, occasional girls’ nights would not only be sufficient—they would be the perfect balance.
In my closer relationships, even if we didn’t see each other often, when we did connect—whether in person or on the phone—our conversations and interactions deep and meaningful and if I also had a full life, this would be more than enough. I realized that the change didn't need to be made externally but there was an internal change that needed to happen. I realized that the stakes were higher for me when it came to building relationships, and I either needed to adjust my expectations or focus only on those who had the same level of need as I did. I decided to find a balance between the two.
I chose to let go of relationships that were one-sided and only existed if I kept the lines of communication open. I also decided to allow the more "light connection" level friendships—those where we have fun together but aren't close enough to turn to each other when life gets serious—to remain a part of my life, because they bring joy and good energy.
But I also decided to spend less time on these "light" relationships and more time nurturing the deeper connections that truly align with me. One of the lessons I’ve learned is that alignment doesn’t always look the same in how we show up, but it’s about looking at the heart and intention behind the relationship. The key is mutual agreement: we both acknowledge that this relationship is special and important, and we both share responsibility in building and nurturing it. This kind of relationship is mutually beneficial, and it’s where I pour more of my time and energy.
To avoid being anal in my approach on how I can engage with others, and avoid this happening again, I remind myself of something I once shared with someone I was dating. We were discussing what we each wanted in an intimate relationship, and I told him I wanted a safe space. He initially thought I meant physical safety, which of course is important, but I clarified that I wanted someone I felt safe being myself around. I wanted someone who had evolved mentally, emotionally, and spiritually to the point where they could handle another human being with care. I wanted someone who could offer my heart, spirit, and soul a sense of safety.
This year, I remembered that need, and I heard it put into words by a content creator in a way that resonated deeply with me. She said, "The version of me that you get is the version of me that is safest with you." Isn’t that powerful? I can simply flow through life, being whatever version of myself presents itself in the moment, because the level of safety provided in the relationship determines the version of me that shows up.
If you’re negative, you’ll get none of me. If you’re friendly but only available for occasional check-ins and hangouts, you’ll get the friendly, social version of me, but not the deeper parts of my life. However, if you are open to sharing your world in a positive and abundant way, you’ll get the highest version of me—the one that wants to share the many layers of who I am.
It’s all about meeting people where they are, without judgment, and respecting how they choose to live and share their lives. Most importantly, it’s about being clear and realistic with yourself about what you desire and need, and understanding that these things can show up in many different ways. As long as you stay connected to yourself—checking in regularly and asking, "Does this feel good? Am I having fun? Is this adding to my life? Is this encouraging my growth?"—you’ll know if the relationship is nourishing.
You don’t have to do anything in life, as long as it doesn’t intentionally harm others, you can do whatever you want with your life. But you should at least advocate for yourself, because you are a sacred being. Let the first relationship you nurture be the one with yourself.
Love you lots!
— Sacred
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