Season One, Episode Two: Choosing Myself - What I Meant by "Enjoy My Own Company"
- DeNight Owl
- Jul 14
- 6 min read
Updated: Aug 24
Welcome to Episode Two of my "Dear Future Husband: Letters From My Single Season" series. I began with the first letter I ever wrote during my single season. Each episode unpacks a different quote from that letter, diving deeper into the journey behind it — the experiences that shaped me, the lessons I learned, and the insights I hope will speak to you, too.
Find the original letter here.
Featured Quote
I am learning to be okay by myself and enjoy my own company.
Easier said than done — but that one sentence carried years of silent battles.
Reflection
A. When Alone Feels Lonely
For a long time, I didn't like my own company. This didn’t mean I always disliked myself or didn’t know how to be alone. But there were moments I truly hated it. I confused being alone with being lonely.
I thought alone and lonely were the same, but here is what I learned:
Alone is the physical state of being by yourself. It can be a choice and isn't inherently negative.
Lonely is the emotional state of feeling disconnected, even in the presence of others.
This was me — disconnected. I love my solitude, especially since I'm an introvert. I cherish staying at home where it’s quiet and peaceful. In those moments, I can be myself without interruption. But I didn’t get out much. I didn’t have many friends. Even when I wanted to do something fun, I hesitated.
I often asked myself, Why should I have to enjoy life by myself when I’m already by myself most of the time?
B. Patterns of Unreciprocated Love
I had a deeper issue — a fear that showed up in how I interacted with others and shaped my future relationships. I’ve lived a lifetime of caring deeply, holding people close in my heart, only for it to not be reciprocated. I was always the one reaching out and checking in, yet I was rarely given the same thought in return.
Because I didn’t have many close friends or get invited places often, I felt left out. I felt lonely. I’d wonder, If something happened to me, would anyone even notice? If they cared, wouldn’t they reach out? Wouldn’t they let me know I was on their mind?
This wasn’t just present in my friendships — it showed up in my romantic encounters, too. It started as early as fifth grade, but it intensified when someone finally showed real interest in me. He was the first guy I believed genuinely liked me, and I fell in love with the idea of him.
He found me attractive and gave me the attention I had longed for. I made compromises to keep that connection. I was willing to do almost anything — and, of course, it didn’t end well.
That relationship began a cycle: anyone who gave me a certain level of attention, I’d start developing feelings for. I thought I was in love — but looking back, it was more physical than emotional. I was infatuated with the idea of someone getting to know me, taking me out, paying attention.
I gave so much of myself, but rarely received the same in return. I’d end up being used or dropped — especially once I stopped compromising or they lost interest. Some of them enjoyed the chase. Some just liked the power. And in the end, I kept losing pieces of myself trying to hold on.
But with every relationship, I grew stronger. I slowly realized I deserved better. I stopped compromising my beliefs and started reinforcing my boundaries. I learned to pause before jumping in. I learned to ask if what I was giving was also being given back.
I still slipped once, but that moment made me reevaluate everything. It was time to choose me. It was time to protect my heart — even more than I had the last time — and focus on becoming whole.
C. Choosing Myself, Trusting God
In my last situation-ship, a friend and spiritual mentor said something that stayed with me:
“If a guy has to second guess whether he wants to be with you, he’s not right for you. You are no one’s second option.”
It took me a while to fully accept that truth, not until I broke my own heart. I was at my lowest. But I finally knew I deserved better. So I ended things, set firm boundaries, and walked into a new light.
It was time to focus on me. On what I wanted — who I wanted to become. It was time to fully surrender my relationship status into God’s hands and let Him lead. Until then, it was me time.
I needed to be comfortable and confident in my own skin, not dependent on someone else to make me feel good about myself. I wasn’t angry at my last experience, but I did pray. I asked God for forgiveness so that I wouldn’t put myself through that kind of pain again. That I would learn the lesson this time.
I started praying deeply honest prayers:
“God, am I meant to be married? Not everyone gets married — but if it’s your will for me not to, help me be okay with that.”
Other times, I pleaded:
“I desire to be married. I know I will be married. You placed that desire in my heart, so I will wait on You and Your timing.”
Those prayers led to the opening lines of my letter — and into the next episode of this journey. Even when I couldn’t always pray with words, I wrote. That’s how I process. Writing has always been how I talk to God. And as I wrote, He began to speak.
He revealed things I hadn’t seen. He helped me reflect, surrender, and slowly trust Him with the one thing I held onto the tightest: my longing to be loved.
Lessons for Choosing Myself
During this process, here are a few lessons I learned.
Attention isn’t affection.
I learned just because someone sees you doesn’t always mean they value you. I mistakenly interpreted consistent messages or flirtation as care. But I've learned that true affection shows up in how someone honors your heart, not just your presence and what they can get from you. I've learned this both ways. It's not only about the attention they give — it's about the intention behind it.
I should never be a man’s second option.
While my mind knew this to be true, my heart wouldn't accept it. If I'm not his clear choice, I don't belong in his orbit. Being someone's maybe was a slow heartbreak. I deserved someone who chose me — without hesitation, without backup plans, and without needing to be convinced.
I don’t need a partner to make me feel whole.
I believed that love would "complete" me. I always wanted companionship. But I've come to understand that wholeness isn't something a person gives you — it's something God grows in you. If I have to lose myself every time I develop feelings for someone, do I really love myself? It's abandonment of self in the place of connection. Today I'm no longer willing to compromise my values, boundaries, or peace just to keep someone around.
Not every crush is meant to be a relationship.
Not everyone who made me laugh deserved a second thought. And not every emotional spark needed to turn into a fire.
These weren't easy truths to accept, but they were necessary. I had to learn them the hard way — not with a single heartbreak, but through a series of small compromises that taught me who I was and what I was worth.
And now I choose me.
And this is only the beginning.
Journal Prompt for You
In what ways have you confused attention with affection, or love with validation?
What would choosing you, fully, kindly, and without compromise, look like today?
Let’s talk about it inside the community
I’ve posted this prompt in the “Dear Future Husband: Lessons & Reflections” group and our forum under the Journal Reflections thread. If you feel led, come share your thoughts, responses, or simply read what others are processing in this season.
Join the conversation here:
Whether you journal privately or share publicly, your voice matters — and your healing is welcome here.
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