Dear Beryl at 29,

Happy birthday!

We’re writing this two months late, because I didn’t realize I wasn’t able to write my annual letter to self on my birthday. Probably because I got swept away by all the gifts and cakes I received.

But whatever. The important thing is I am writing it now, on day 2 of the blessed 9 days you get off from school.

As we write this, we’re on bed, and we can hear the washing machine is doing its job right outside the window. It’s a Sunday; the first Sunday since April this year that you missed out on attending the Holy Mass, the Feast and the Singles monthly gathering. Why?

Well, mostly because you’re disappointed that your Feast crush is probably no longer available, and the girl who snagged him is also in the ministry, and you just feel foolish and ugly and really bad about yourself, and you wanted to hide.

I reread that sentence. I guess it sounds as pathetic as it does now, but you know us. We can’t help ourselves. It also doesn’t help that we have our period, so our hormones are getting extra dramatic, to the point that we are now starting to wonder if God is trying to tell us something.

I mean, we’ve never been in a relationship. The only time someone gave special attention to us, we turned him down, because it just wasn’t the right match. We don’t regret it; it was the right thing to do. But we wonder — or at least I do, right now — if we’re just not meant to find and have a person in our lives, that is just ours? Someone who will accept and love us no matter what, because he chooses to do so, because he sees something in us that is appealing to him, and complementary to what he needs in his life. Someone who will stick by us, through whatever, and be our ultimate go-to Person.

Someone who will not reject us. Someone who will listen and teach us. Someone uniquely created just for us.

I fervently hope that as you read this a year from now (well, ten months from now, at least), that all these questions have been answered. Because, if not, I seriously don’t know.

To be clear, I do want to serve God. I want to give back to Him all that He has blessed me with, undeserving that I am. I want to devote my life to serving Him through others.

BUT… I also want to experience true, unconditional, romantic love. I want the intimacy, both physically and intellectually. I want the connection, the bond that has no concrete match, but is there. I want long, late-night conversations about nothing and everything. I want tight bear hugs, forehead kisses, holding hands while walking, cheesy romantic cliches (in the park, beach, mall — everywhere!), cuddles and spooning, calming silence and sweet endearments. I want a partner, someone to lean on and run to, someone to build and create with, someone to be inspired by and of, someone who will push and pull me out of my (weekly) dark days, SOMEONE REAL AND HONEST AND LOVES GOD AND PERFECTLY IMPERFECT.

I want my match.

The thing is, I have no idea how or what I can do to meet him. Like, how does that even happen anyway? All my life, I’ve fallen in like and heavy infatuation with guys who are, clearly, not for me. I’m so tired of it — crying my heart out, begging, bargaining, saying that I will let Him take over, when I really… don’t.

Because I have this strong feeling that He wants me to choose the other side of the coin, that is, single-blessedness.

BUT I DON’T WANT THAT.

I can’t. Not when I am always fantasizing of a big family dinner, with my kids and grand kids, and me telling them “during my time” stories that I’ve told about countless times. Not when I can clearly see myself with my children, reading Harry Potter and Narnia, analyzing and criticizing movies, listening to music, playing card and board games, laughing, learning, loving, SERVING GOD. Not when I know, that I am meant to be a mother.

And I am absolutely terrified that I’ll never be.

I am 28 years old, and I know nothing.

I hope that a year from now, I’ll know at least a little bit more.

Stay strong.

Bee

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