I was doing that thing again made everything else glow with clarity. I was reliving old patterns that I was accustomed to and comfortable in. The familiarity stopped me in my tracks. I was doing what I did best: giving up on myself and my needs to settle and shrink into the heart and life of someone with whom I had little chemistry on a good day. I wanted more, even if I didn’t have the language to voice it. I wasn’t looking for another fling, and he, fairly enough, wasn’t looking for a wife. What I discovered from my short-lived romance was that I needed to find out who I was and what I truly
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