Maybe I should stop talking about love.

Maybe I should stop talking about love.

Seriously. Enough.

I've talked about love. I've talked about him.I've talked about home.

I've talked about whether I'll ever find my prince charming.

I've talked about whether I'll ever trust love again.

I've talked about September 18 so much that at this point, the date probably deserves its own therapist.

And my head hurts. Literally.

Maybe this is my body's way of saying: “Girl, can we please talk about something else?”

😂

So maybe I should.  Maybe I should stop wondering whether someone is going to come into my life and save me.

Because, honestly? 

I think I have been waiting for a little too long for a fairytale ending.

And perhaps it's time to write a different kind of story.

One where I save myself.  Right now, I don't need a prince.

I need a job.  Preferably one overseas that pays enough to help me rebuild everything I've lost and get my life back on track.

There.  That's the romance I'm interested in right now.

A healthy bank account.

Honestly, after everything I've been through, that sounds incredibly attractive.

😂

I want to work. I want to earn my own money again.

I want to pay things off. I want to recover what I can.

I want to stand on my own feet again.

I want to wake up in the morning thinking about work, plans, deadlines, coffee…

instead of waking up and immediately wondering what someone else is thinking about me.

What a concept. Maybe that's where my energy should go.

Not into decoding someone's silence.

Not into analyzing someone's messages.

Not into wondering whether someone will come back.

Not into trying to figure out whether I'll ever find my happily-ever-after.

Right now, I have something much more important to find.

Myself.

Somewhere along the way, I lost pieces of her.

The happy one. The silly one. 

The one who laughed too loudly with her friends.

The one who could spend hours talking about absolutely nothing.

The one who enjoyed being around family.

The one who had plans. The one who actually looked forward to things.

The one who didn't spend every day carrying this invisible weight around.

I miss her A lot.

And maybe I don't need someone else to bring her back.

Maybe I can.

The last year has been strangely quiet. Too quiet.

My life became smaller. There weren't many visits.

Not many people checking in. Not many random invitations.

Not many “Hey, where are you? Come out!” messages.

And sometimes I wondered if people had forgotten me.

Maybe they didn't. Maybe everyone was just living their own lives.

Or maybe I disappeared so quietly that they didn't know I needed someone to notice. Either way, I became very good at being alone.

Probably too good. And I don't want to stay there.

I want my people back. I want dinners with friends.

Random conversations. Laughing until my stomach hurts.

Family gatherings. Annoying relatives. Friends who call just to gossip.

Someone saying, “Come on, let's go somewhere.”

And me saying yes without having to calculate whether I have enough emotional energy for human interaction.

I want noise again. I want life again.

I want to be surrounded by people who know me as Dika, not as someone's wife, someone's ex-something, someone's problem, someone's sad story.

Just me. Dika. The woman who is still here.

The woman who got knocked down more times than she would like to admit.

The woman who sometimes cried in the bathroom and then came out pretending everything was fine.

The woman who made questionable decisions.

The woman who trusted the wrong people.

The woman who lost things. The woman who made mistakes.

But also the woman who is still standing.

And maybe that's something worth celebrating.

Because I thought I had lost everything. 

Maybe I haven't. Maybe I just lost the version of my life I thought I was supposed to have.

And now I get to build another one. 

Different. Messier. Probably more expensive.

😂

But mine.

So maybe I should stop asking: “Will I find my prince charming?”

And start asking: “What kind of life do I want to build?”

Where do I want to work? Where do I want to live?

What do I want to achieve? Who do I want around me?

What makes me happy? What makes me feel alive?

Those are questions I can actually do something about.

Love? We'll see.

Maybe someday someone will come along. Maybe he won't.

Maybe I'll fall in love again. 

Maybe I'll stay single and become the slightly eccentric aunt who travels, works overseas, drinks coffee and gives unsolicited relationship advice.

Honestly, both options sound survivable.

😂

But I'm done putting my life on pause waiting for someone else's decision.

I have spent enough time waiting. Now I want to move.

I want to work. I want to rebuild.

I want to laugh again. I want to reconnect with my friends and family.

I want to travel. I want to make money.

I want to sleep without a headache caused by overthinking someone's behavior.

And most importantly… I want to feel like me again.

Maybe the past year wasn't the end of my story.

Maybe it was just the ugly chapter nobody wants to reread.

And maybe the next chapter doesn't need a prince.

Maybe it needs courage.  

A job offer. A plane ticket. A decent salary.

A few good friends. My family. A ridiculous amount of coffee.

And probably a therapist for my overthinking brain.

😂

So yeah.

Maybe I should stop talking about love for a while.

The romance department can take a vacation.

I've got work to do. I've got a life to rebuild.

And I've got a woman to bring back.  Me.

Maybe I can make a comeback after all.

Actually… I think I can.

And this time, I don't want to come back as the woman I used to be.

I want to come back as someone even stronger.

Someone happier. Someone who knows her worth.

Someone who doesn't wait around to be chosen.

Someone who chooses herself.

So, dear life… I'm ready.

Let's see what happens next. 

Because apparently, I'm not finished yet.

Not even close.