A Letter to My Ex

Dear Ex,

I have a few things I’d like to get off my chest.

We’ve been connected for a long time, and honestly, I think it’s time we addressed a few things. I’ve spent years thinking about what our future would look like, and I have to admit, things haven’t gone exactly as planned. Actually, I have a few exes I'd like to address.

But before I get ahead of myself, let’s take this one at a time.

#1

I had a picture of how life would unfold,

A wedding by twenty-five, a family to hold

A life we’d planned, with room to grow

I thought by now we’d have more to show,

I had a picture, a timeline, a plan in my head,

Of all the things I’d accomplish and all the paths we’d tread

But life hasn’t followed the script I wrote,

Or gone according to the plans I hoped

And I’m learning that my timeline isn't God's to explain

Or mine to only lament or look on with disdain…

Dear Ex, we had a whole future planned. At least, I thought we did. I knew what we would look like, where we would be, and who I'd become by now. You just never happened the way I expected. I really thought I'd be married by now. Not just married, but married by twenty-five, with children starting somewhere between twenty-six and thirty. I had a whole timeline with you.

But here I am at thirty-two, and some of the things I expected to have by now are still things I'm praying about.

And it wasn't just marriage and children. I expected to be doing something fulfilling with my creativity. Dancing was one of the best things that ever happened to me. My godmother worked at the studio where I danced and didn't take a check so that I could dance for free. I loved it, and I loved being creative, period. I imagined having a business where I could create, give back to the community, and still make a profit. I wanted to build something meaningful.

I'm still interested in that kind of work, but I'm also considering a PhD in a field I never imagined pursuing, and this was never a part of my timeline. So now I'm asking God different questions. Not just, “Lord, when am I going to have the life I thought I'd have?” but “Lord, what have You graced me to do in this season and with my life period? What am I supposed to be developing, building, and paying attention to right now?”

I don't want to pretend the disappointment isn't there. I really did think I'd be further along by now. But I'm also learning to love the things I never expected, like being a godmother to an absolute joy or moving several states from home on my own.  I still want marriage one day . I still want children (most of the time). I still 100 percent want to create . I'm just trying to figure out how to hold those desires without assuming I know exactly how or when they'll come to pass.

Dear Ex… pectations,

I think part of our problem is that I treated my timeline like a promise. I assumed that because I wanted certain things by a certain age, my life would naturally follow that order. Now I’m having to make room for the possibility that I can still want those things without knowing when or how they’ll happen. I’m not breaking up with the things I want. I’m trying to let go of the idea that I already know how my story is supposed to go.

And speaking of things that didn’t go according to plan, let’s talk about another ex. Or, technically, a few of them.

#2

You had me thinking there might be something there,

the whirlwind, the butterflies, the time we shared

Different faces, different stories, different reasons to stay,

Different ways I convinced myself you’d meet me halfway

My first technical boyfriend was in high school. And I use the word technical very loosely because we were boyfriend and girlfriend in words only. We met in the hallway in tenth grade, passed each other, both looking back as if we liked what we saw, exchanged numbers, and somehow became a couple. Our relationship consisted mostly of talking on the phone.

Then I moved and changed neighborhoods, and without realizing it, my school bus switched to his. When he saw me, this boy looked SHOCKED. Not excited. Not happy. Shocked. He walked right past me. That should have been my first clue.

The second came when I went to a carryout (a walk- in storefront food establishment) and started talking to a girl from another school. We both wore our school uniforms, and she told me about her boyfriend who attended my school. You guess it, it was none other than the boy I was calling my boyfriend.

I broke up with him immediately. Then he proceeded to sit behind me on the bus with a whole other girl for the rest of the school year. And somehow, all these years later, he still calls me to ask for forgiveness. By now, I have moved on and forgiven him. I would just prefer that we not speak again. I don’t know what kind of closure he’s still looking for, but I would like to close the communication channel entirely. I know that doesn’t sound “Christian,” but it’s true, and I’m willing to give it to the Lord.

Then there was the guy I met later in high school. This one was a meet-cute. He had the confidence to walk up to a stranger, hand her his phone, and tell her to put her number in it. It worked because I thought he was cute, and I was pleasantly surprised he had noticed me, since we didn’t have other classes together or run in the same circles.

Our first conversation felt like we were long-lost friends. We became really good friends and talked almost daily. Eventually, I developed feelings for him. When I told him, he said we were just friends, even though I believed there was more to it. We stayed connected, and whenever I tried to give him a chance after he asked for one, something would happen to mess it up.

During COVID, I was actually planning to visit him. I told God I needed someone to talk to about it, and my pastor called me almost immediately.  She said God had placed me on her heart. Before I could even tell him I wasn’t coming anymore, he ghosted me. There’s history, but the pattern was pretty much the same.

Then there was my first actual boyfriend in college. We’d been talking for about five months without making anything official. When I finally asked what we were doing, I was prepared to walk away if he wanted to be just friends. By the end of the week, we were official.

He was older, and initially, he didn’t mind that I was waiting for marriage to be sexually active. He came to my baptism, brought me flowers, and supported me. But eventually, he made it clear he didn’t want to wait.

That was a different kind of disappointment. Someone could care about me, support me, and share meaningful moments with me, and we could still want different things. I couldn’t make our convictions line up simply because I cared about him.

Looking back, I can see a pattern. Different men, different circumstances, different reasons things didn’t work out. I believe God was involved in all of these endings, whether directly or indirectly. Only He could orchestrate being at the same restaurant at the same time as the other girl. Only He could orchestrate my pastor calling exactly when I was about to do something foolish. And when I fully gave myself to Him, my first and only real relationship failed.

I could tell you what each of them did wrong. Trust me, the evidence is there. But this letter isn’t just about the men who disappointed me, the ones who couldn’t make up their minds, or the ones who wanted something different from what I was willing to give.

It’s about the version of me who kept entertaining the possibility that maybe, this time, things would be different when all the signs were there.

Dear Ex…situation, I think it’s time we talk about you. And by you, I mean the version of me who kept entertaining them.

#3

I thought if I always said yes and no never

That if I dressed a little bit better

If I revealed a little bit more

I'd be hard for you to ignore

I thought if I never tried my hardest

that I would never lose

If I acted a little more modest

that I'd be a part of the crew

If I put myself down

That you couldn't put me down too

If I gave in before I really tried

Intact would I find my pride

With no help from any glue

I thought if I loved myself less

That you would love me more

I thought if I accepted second best

That I wouldn't fear losing anymore

I thought if I hid the real me

I couldn't get hurt at no degree

I thought the problem was in me

And that you would always agree

Dear Ex, I wish I could tell you that I don't think about you anymore. But every now and then, you show up in the way I think, the things I tolerate, and the way I respond.

I used to think that if I dressed a little better, revealed a little more, or showed a little less interest, I could somehow become more desirable. If I didn't try my hardest, I couldn't lose too much. If I put myself down first, maybe nobody else could hurt me in a way I hadn't already anticipated. I thought I could protect myself from rejection by making myself smaller before anyone else could. And the problem with that plan? I was still hurting. I was just participating in the hurt.

I was tired of treating myself like the problem every time somebody didn't choose me. I started to recognize that I could be someone worth knowing and loving without needing to convince everyone I met.

These days, I am less interested in pretending to be something I'm not for the sake of pseudo-peace or validation. I'm at an age where I want people to love the real me or hate the real me. I'm not interested in manufacturing a version of myself that makes everybody comfortable while I sit there uncomfortable. But there’s a difference between accepting myself and assuming every part of myself should stay the same.

When I moved to Connecticut, I thought I had the perfect opportunity to reinvent myself. Nobody knew me. Nobody knew my history. I could start fresh and become whoever I wanted.

I thought I was doing a pretty good job, too. Then somebody here called me a firecracker.

A FIRECRACKER.

That was a word I freely would have used to describe myself back home. But hearing it here disappointed me. I had moved away thinking I was getting a fresh start, only to realize I'd apparently brought some of the old me with me.

I couldn't even reinvent myself successfully. The firecracker had relocated.

I've also had to pay more attention to how I speak to people. My mouth used to be reckless. I could say what I wanted, how I wanted, and apparently trust everybody else to deal with the aftermath. I'm learning that being honest doesn't give me permission to be careless with people.

Those are two different areas of growth for me. I don't want to hide who I am to make other people comfortable, but I also don't want to use “this is just how I am” as an excuse not to grow.

I can stand firmly in who I am while still allowing God to work on how I show up.

So, dear ex …self, I think we're finally getting somewhere. I think we’ve spent enough time trying to become someone else for the sake of being chosen. Thank God you stopped confusing being wanted with being worthy, and I look forward to the day you stop confusing authenticity with refusing to change.

In conclusion,  I'm still figuring out what I want my life to look like. I'm still discerning what God is calling me to do. I'm still learning from the relationships I entertained and the parts of myself I tried to change for the wrong reasons. But I don't want to keep chasing an old picture of my life, reopening doors that I've already outgrown, or confusing authenticity with refusing to change.

I didn’t write this letter because every ex was terrible or because I have everything figured out. And for sure not because I've reached the end of my growing. I could give you a polished reason why I wrote this, but the truth is the title sounded provocative, and then I thought, what could this be about, given that it's a letter to my ex ex…pectaions… ex situation or ex me.

Nonetheless, thank God for X because knowing Y won't change things 😜.

Sincerely,

The woman I'm still becoming.