Acknowledging the empty cup…
Romanticizing our lives has become a theme for so many of us these days, social media both lures and inspires us with pictures, videos, and pretty captions showing small windows into the world of others where we see and let’s face it feel within us, a romantic way of life. This vision is about slowing down, tending to simple tasks, and the beauty that comes from within us when we take a moment to notice. There is, within us, a core yearning for romance but this concept isn’t about romance in the way that most would define the feeling ; this isn’t about an exchange of emotions, but more about giving to ourselves a sense of wonder that nurtures our souls.
Honestly, didn’t we grow up thinking of romance in the traditional way; a feeling of mystery and excitement associated with love. This love being external, from someone outside ourselves. And since I enjoy the companionship of men in this way, I think of romance between that of a man and a woman or a masculine and feminine energy exchange. Not everyone has the same preference as I do so feel free to insert whatever energy or preference you have, since the point is really that romance was something between two people, an exchange, a feeling of wonder and awe that felt magical.
The word romantic holds so much meaning, the dictionary gives varying examples that support the theme of romanticizing one’s life. For example, marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious or idealized. This appeal to romance is inherently within our souls, and we can express this romantic vision through solitary expressions, like those most portrayed on social media.
As a woman who after many years of marriage finds herself in her mid-fifties, single, and with an empty nest I found that romanticizing my life was a beautiful way of self-expression, a way to slow down and savor the cup of coffee, and see the simple beauty in the mug; the aroma, and the flavor, especially when visiting a charming café where ambiance sets a stage for inviting the romantic within us. I found going on solo adventures became romantic, in part because becoming myself, independent of others, there was a mystery surrounding each morning. There was no one to give an opinion on what the day’s plans were or where we may have dinner. Everything from the time I awoke until the time I went to sleep was about finding me and what made my inner self feel joy. There is a heroic aspect to doing things alone, I found such wonderful feelings of accomplishment, bravery, courage, and ultimately a knowing that I enjoy my own company, sometimes more than that of others. Having a romantic life, independent of another, is a beautiful experience that can bring about profound self-awareness. So, take the picture of whatever is bringing you joy in that moment, if only as a reminder to look back on and say, yes, that was a wonderful little time I had. I encourage you with all my heart to capture the feeling in any way you choose to express yourself, whether it’s a photograph of that cup of coffee or a journal entry describing the awe at seeing your first shooting star. Often we forget all the little things that we did or felt in past, and as the year goes by we think that maybe we didn’t do much at all, but having a reminder of those moments to look back on, at the end of each year, will bring you such profound joy, the inner you will relive that feeling and you will see how beautiful your life really is when we take the time to romanticize the moments of our lives where we feel our true authentic selves.
Ok, but let’s look into the empty cup? We can and we will, do you know why? Because it is also okay to feel a longing for the cliched version of romance, I believe this is deeply human. It is healthy to want (not need) companionship, touch, words of admiration, intimacy, and ultimately love. I know that not everyone may feel the desire for a romantic relationship, we are all at different places on our journey, but for those who still believe in the magic of fairytales, I hear you, so let’s put it out there and understand that it is okay, even in this new era of hyper feminism, to want to give love and be loved in a romantic way.
A soft truth:
There’s a bit of feminism woven into everything I write—
not loud, not pointed, just present.
With that said what about the cup…
This situation occurred quite recently. It was just getting on winter, with the chilly nights and the darkness that blankets the skies early in the day. The type of day for being cozy which was exactly what I had in mind on this particular morning. I foresaw a quiet evening at home, cooking a small dinner, a blanket on the couch, and a cup of chai tea. So, as I was running errands I stopped at a store and saw the most adorable set of pajamas. I thought how cozy they looked, they were feminine in a soft wintering way. The fabric was incredibly soft, so much so that you just wanted to wrap your arms around yourself and give a hug. The color was a beautiful winter white, the bottoms were flowy and the top was that perfect oversized off the shoulder that really just brings out the playful feminine within. Of course, I bought them immediately and thought they were the perfect lounge wear for my planned evening in. Do you see where this is going? Ugh, at the time I didn’t so follow along as I spiraled into an evening of many tears that brought me to the “un-romanticizing” of my life. I returned home as darkness was setting and thought what a peaceful night I had planned for myself. Yes, I was feeling good and had even decided that before I put on my new pajamas I would wash away the day in a comforting bubble bath. I soaked in a fragrant bath, used a sugar scrub on my skin, and in the end shaved in all the right places. The bath left me smelling of rosewater, my skin smooth and soft as I slipped into my new pajamas. Oh, how I felt so warm and relaxed. The candles in the living room were lit and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through my home. I prepared my dinner and sat at my table enjoying a nice meal. After cleaning up I looked around at the ambiance of my home, the soft lights, the burning candles, the sweet scent of my skin, the softness of my pajamas, and I thought this is romantic, this is romanticizing my life, and you would think that I would have been pleasantly content (because isn’t that what the pictures tell us). Wrong! Instead, out of nowhere came an enormous rush of emptiness that overwhelmed me there in the middle of the room. What was wrong with me? (menapause?)As I stood there, arms wrapped around my stomach, I listened to my heart, to what my body was trying to tell me, and I realized that what I wanted more than anything, in that moment, was to share this with someone… I desired playfulness, I longed for a smiling face looking at me, I wanted to be wanted, (insert Cheap Trick soundtrack) and I wanted to want someone. There was no one there to brush the hair away from my face, no one to share my day with, no one to snuggle up next to and feel the strength and safety of their embrace. As I stood there, tears rolling down my cheeks, barely able to catch my breath from the depth of the emotion, I realized that I couldn’t romanticize all of my life, that at some point I wanted romance from someone outside of myself. Although I thought that I had come a long way since my divorce, I was independent, I was learning to love myself, I was being brave and strong, it occurred to me that as a woman maybe I don’t want to always be the strong one, that maybe I desired, at that moment, to be with a man who possessed a healthy masculinity where I could let my guard down and embrace my femininity and vulnerability. (Yes, I do believe these men exist). And so the evening progressed with me lying in bed, tissue in hand, binge-listening to my emotions like they were a true crime podcast.
I have embraced this part of me, this part that understands that yes I can find romantic moments in my life, and cherish them, savor them, remember them, because they are making me the authentic woman that I am, but I also acknowledge that at the core of romanticizing my life there is the fundamental desire to be fully in your feminine energy and the way, for me, to fully realize that inner truth is to have an opposing energy of masculinity (Ah, the ever-elusive soulmate—part myth, part longing, part cosmic joke).
I’ll keep taking pictures—quiet little pieces of the world that catch my eye. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll come home to someone who smiles softly, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and says,
“I’m so glad you had a good day. Show me what you saw.”
And if you find yourself crying in the middle of your living room, wrapped in soft pajamas and solitude—know this too, is okay.
It’s a moment of clarity, a quiet reaching for connection.
Welcome your emotions—both joy and ache—each one carries a lesson, each one leads you closer to yourself.
The empty cup is like our soul—sometimes we need to fill it ourselves, and other times, we just have to wait for the right brew to come along.
How do you romanticize your life?
Is it the scent of something warm in the kitchen? A book that feels like an old friend? A quiet walk with nowhere to be?
And even with all that beauty—
Do you still find yourself holding an empty cup now and then?
I’d love to know.
Until next time,
– Dawn
