Sigh. Ever since I was a little girl, I always bought into the notion that every single person in the world has a soulmate. You know, that one person who understands you like nobody else on earth. The one whose soul has known yours in many, many lifetimes before this one. Someone who absolutely adores you. Someone who looks at you and thinks you’re the most wonderful woman they’ve ever known. Someone who gives you unconditional love, even when you might not deserve it. Someone who knows exactly when you need a hug, and isn’t afraid to throw their arms around you no matter who might be watching. Someone who is your … everything.
You know … like this.
Yep. Noah and Allie. That’s the picture I had in my head of what truly constituted a soulmate relationship. (Eye roll.) And for a good portion of my adult life, I honestly believed I possibly had that for a brief moment in time. Spoiler alert — it was not with my former husband. (Not even close.)
And as pathetic as this is to admit — I clung to him, and to that notion of a perfect soulmate — all throughout my marriage, during my divorce, and even for a period of time after my divorce. Especially after, because I was single again. Finally. Which meant the stars were finally going to align and we were going to find our way back to each other and live happily ever after and all would be right with the universe.
The only problem is that … it wasn’t right. It didn’t happen. It probably was never meant to. I finally understood that he never had those kinds of feelings for me — and maybe I never really had them for him either. I had simply cooked up this notion of a soulmate in my head, and for whatever reason, I attached him to that vision. But if nothing else, maybe he helped play a part in getting me out of a relationship that was figuratively drowning me. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that. (Always a silver lining.)
And then one day — I just magically got over the whole idea of … “uh-oh, what if I let my soulmate get away.” Because a light bulb went off in my head, and I realized that all of those dreams I’d had of having this perfect relationship with the soulmate the universe had chosen for me had already come true — and the dude from the past was simply that — a dude from the past.
My real soulmate was right before my very eyes.
Yes, my son. My son is, was, and always will be my one true soulmate. Let’s revisit what I always thought was the definition of a soulmate.
“The one whose soul has known yours in many, many lifetimes before this one. Someone who absolutely adores you. Someone who looks at you and thinks you’re the most wonderful woman they’ve ever known. Someone who gives you unconditional love, even when you might not deserve it. Someone who knows exactly when you need a hug, and isn’t afraid to throw their arms around you no matter who might be watching. Someone who is your … everything.”
Little did I know it, but my entire life, I’d been dreaming of him. “He” just turned out to be my kid. And that’s when I realized that this whole notion of soulmates having to be romantic soulmates is seriously killing the hopes and dreams of so many people out there. Why must the person we feel most connected to absolutely have to be a romantic partner? And maybe that person is a romantic partner in some lifetimes. But maybe in others, it’s a child. A parent. A friend. Hell, a dog. And if dogs are factored into the mix, then I’m the luckiest person on the planet, because I have TWO soulmates.
Image via maryjhawkins/Instagram
I’m not sure what the future holds for me in terms of love (with a grown-up dude), but I do know one thing for certain — soulmates most definitely do exist. EVERYONE has one.
You just have to look for them in the right place.