“By all means, marry. If you get a good spouse, you’ll be happy. If you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.”
—Socrates
This quote always makes me smile. It carries a deeper truth beneath its humor: no matter the outcome, relationships—especially the difficult ones—can become a mirror, a path, even a form of initiation into self-inquiry and transformation.
We often live through the lens of the past, shaped by old hurts or attempts to protect ourselves from being hurt again. As children, many of us learned love was something to earn. That if we were good, helpful, pleasing—we might finally receive affection.
I became a woman who believed I had to deserve love. That I wasn’t worthy of it simply for being. I didn’t set boundaries—I didn’t even know I could. Instead, I developed a deep hunger for external validation and affection. And like all hunger, it made me accept less and give more, in hopes that someone would finally feed what I lacked inside.
At first, the love, the relationship, the “dream” feels full. We’re on cloud nine.
This is it, we say.
But for many of us, time reveals another pattern: the spark fades, the hunger returns, and we begin to fantasize about the next person, the next dream, the next beginning.
And while dreaming is not wrong, we must remember:
Everything outside us can change. But we always bring ourselves with us.
Just like walking from one room to another, we carry our thoughts, fears, assumptions, and longings wherever we go. No partner, no place, no possession can give us what we refuse to give ourselves.
🔄 Patterns, Projection, and the Search for “The One”
I used to believe relationships were the answer to everything.
Love would fix me.
The “right man” would save me from doubt, from loneliness, from insecurity.
Looking back, I now see: the humor, lightness, joy I thought others brought into my life—those were mine all along.
I had to ask myself hard questions:
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What did I associate romantic relationships with?
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Was I searching for a savior?
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Was I unconsciously seeking someone to confirm my belief that I was unlovable?
The more I sought confirmation from the outside, the more frustrated I became when it didn’t arrive.
And isn’t it amazing? The way our bodies follow our beliefs?
So many people walk around criticizing their looks, their weight, their age—and their body responds with shame, tension, illness.
Confidence, on the other hand, glows through any appearance.
We see it. We feel it. And we’re drawn to it.
🪞 A Story from My Past
One of my greatest fears was always:
What if he sees my flaws?
I lived with a partner for many years. I’m grateful for many things he gave me.
But I can now see how I placed the burden of my self-worth onto him.
I wanted him to be my strength.
To give me what I didn’t yet know how to give myself: confidence, clarity, the ability to choose, to say no, to raise my standards. I accepted less than I deserved, just to hold onto someone I believed was holding me together.
But the truth was:
We weren’t truly compatible.
We argued often. We drained each other.
And still—I stayed.
I stayed strong, but for what?
To maintain a relationship that no longer held light?
To avoid the fear of being alone?
I would pick fights just to get his attention. I believed that if it ended, I would collapse. When he finally left, I felt relief—but also pain.
He kept coming and going, and I watched myself rise and fall with every message, every visit.
That’s when I knew:
No one outside of me can be the source of my joy—or my pain.
🌱 Reprogramming from Within
As I’ve shared before, our patterns often go deeper than we think.
Most of what we do is not conscious choice—it’s conditioning. Habit. Training.
But habits can be changed.
The subconscious mind, like a garden, receives whatever seed we plant.
It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t decide. It simply grows what it’s given.
That’s why awareness is key.
We must watch ourselves gently—especially when we fall into flashbacks or fears.
These are just echoes of old programming trying to “protect” us.
But we are the gardeners now.
We can choose new seeds.
đź’ˇ The Philosopher Within
Coming back to Socrates’ quote—I did marry, metaphorically speaking. I entered a relationship that hurt me and taught me. And so, I became a philosopher.
“If I’m alone, I’ve failed.”
That was the old assumption I carried.
But the deeper truth?
I had not failed.
I had freed myself.
I was so identified with pain that I couldn’t yet feel the presence underneath it.
But now I do.
And now I write from that place—not because I have it all figured out, but because I’ve walked through the fire and found the light still burning within me.