Still, I know he is not my savior. I know I am. I know it’s not his word above my own, even if he says really lovely words. I know, if his actions start to show a lack of care, the love I have for myself will carry me away. I don’t lay in my bed at night and fret over that. I don’t pick fights in anticipation of that happening.

He shows up for me in ways younger me would have leaned on completely. I probably would have seen him as some sort of savior.

Men have come in fits and bursts. I won’t downplay the impact because it has been too large to express. Our relationship to men, inside or outside of romantic contexts, has a quantifiable impact on our health. Mental, physical, even spiritual.

So sure, I have scars that remind me of men. But I have a heart that reminds me of me .

Spite doesn’t sustain the evolution, it just lights the fire.