On Being Single at Heart

Last year, when I first came across the idea of being "single at heart," I was two months divorced and basking in the newfound freedom of singlehood. The post I read was by a woman who described herself as someone genuinely happier living a single life—someone who thrives without the traditional structure of a shared life. At the time, it resonated with me deeply. I felt untethered, joyful, and fully present with myself in a way I hadn’t felt in years. But now, over a year later, my feelings about being single are more nuanced, though no less honest.

In this time since my divorce, I’ve poured myself into myself—every ounce of love, attention, and care that I can muster. It’s been a season of reclamation, of remembering, and ultimately of becoming. Let me tell you: loving yourself is no small feat. It takes time, energy, and intention, but it has been the most transformative work of my life.

Let’s start with my health. I’ve completely overhauled my approach to living well. Movement, hydration, food—every decision has become a love letter to my body. I’ve built a lifestyle that feels sustainable, joyful, and deeply nourishing. It’s not just about the physical changes, but the mental clarity and sense of self-respect that come from showing up for myself day after day.

In my career, I left a job that no longer aligned with who I am and stepped fully into entrepreneurship. It’s been terrifying at times, but also exhilarating. Writing, building, creating—it all takes so much mental energy, but it’s worth it. I’m figuring it out as I go, and even though I’m taking financial risks, I feel a freedom I’ve never felt before. My finances may not be perfect, but they’re mine to manage, and that autonomy feels priceless.

Socially, my circle is small but rich with quality. I love going out dancing, exploring museums, and enjoying bougie experiences with a close friend. But I also deeply love spending time alone. I’ve come to prefer solo travel and solo moments. I am at my best when I am by myself, when I can hear my own thoughts without interference.

Here’s the thing I’ve realized in this year of pouring into myself: I’m a kept woman because I keep myself. I love myself in ways no one else has been able to love me. And because of that, I find myself questioning the value of romantic relationships in their traditional form. It’s not that I don’t have love to give—I do, in abundance—but I haven’t yet encountered anyone who loves me as fully and consistently as I love myself.

This leads me to a fear I’ve been grappling with: if I enter a relationship, will I lose myself? Relationships demand attention and energy, and I worry about dividing my focus in ways that take away from how well I care for myself now. I’ve worked so hard to cultivate this self-love, this commitment to showing up for me. I cannot risk losing that.

I’ve also noticed that many people struggle to keep their word. It’s not always malicious—it’s often a symptom of chaotic lives or scattered priorities—but it still impacts me deeply. One of the ways I show love to myself is by keeping my word to myself. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it. I’ve found that this level of consistency is rare in others, and I struggle to reconcile the gap.

When I was married, I poured so much into my partner, and what I gave wasn’t always reciprocated in the same way. It left me feeling depleted, resentful, and unseen. That experience taught me that I cannot center a partner in my life. If I ever get married again—or even have a child—I would need to structure my life in a way that allows me to still center myself. Separate homes? Maybe. A considerable amount of space? Absolutely. I’ve realized that I am at my best in relationships when there is distance—when I can love someone without losing myself in the process.

This isn’t to say that I don’t believe a partner who aligns with my values exists. I think they might. But if they do, they must also love themselves in the way I’ve learned to love myself. They must meet me where I am—whole, fulfilled, and unwilling to sacrifice the work I’ve done on myself for someone who doesn’t see the beauty and necessity of that same journey.

So, here I am. A year and some change into this single life. Still single at heart. Still deeply, fully, and unapologetically in love with myself. And still unwilling to compromise that love for anyone who can’t love me—and themselves—with the same intensity.

Until next time...

Alana