I recently traveled to the island of Saint Thomas in the Caribbean and found myself in tears in a little alleyway in the Queens Quarter area of Charlotte Amalie. They were tears of relief. Or joy. Or gratitude. Or more likely a combination of all three.

My life with A began when I was so young. I didn’t think so at the time, but 16 years old is definitely an early start on my “forever”. But it felt right and it obviously lasted a long time – 32 years and three children long, to be precise. A and I essentially grew into adults alongside one another, making choices and learning together along the way. The downside to being so young was that I hadn’t really developed a true sense of who I was. And I was so eager to please that I allowed him to make many of the decisions that led us through adulthood.

I don’t really have many regrets; every decision we made and every road we traveled led me to where I am today. Mistakes were made, naturally, and there were, of course, events that I wouldn’t have chosen and certainly didn’t enjoy. But I can honestly say I tried. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Because I have lived and am living.

If there were one thing I would have done differently (or maybe just better) it would have been to keep a better sense of self along the way. More accurately, I should say that I would have developed a better sense of self, because I still struggle with being my authentic self. I have always felt that not only did I not have the right to put myself first, but that if I did so, I would let someone down; I am always worried about disappointing people.

I was raised to not make waves, and to do as I was told, and to follow the rules, and on and on and on. Then when I fell in love with A, I allowed him to guide me toward interests that either both of us shared or, more often, I supported him in his passions. We moved to Hawaii because it was his dream. We came to Florida so he could be closer to the beach. He quit his job to pursue a career in golf while I supported our family. And given how things turned out, I’m glad I did these things. Otherwise, I would likely be wracked by guilt that I didn’t allow him to live the life he wanted, especially given that it ended for him so abruptly and too soon.

It wasn’t that I never did what I wanted, and could often be found being my own weird self. But whenever there was a conflict between my desires and that of those around me, I typically sat back and let someone else take the spotlight. On the rare occasion I chose to put myself first, it didn’t always work out well, which only reinforced the belief that I should do what everyone else wanted. Years ago, I had a once close friend who essentially sent me a Dear John letter that wrote me out of her life because she “couldn’t stand to see [me] happy” if she wasn’t a part of my daily life. I am still befuddled by that one but have made peace with it all. Most of the time. In moments of retrospection combined with severe lack of self-esteem, I still wonder how my happiness made her unhappy… and I will likely never know or understand.

None of this is to say that I am completely different from who I was intended to be, but I did have a tendency to put my own needs and ambitions on the back burner for much of my life. Many women tend to do this; in an effort to keep the peace or encourage our loved ones’ passions and interests, we put ourselves last. At least, I know I did much of the time. I didn’t understand that wanting things for myself didn’t mean those around me couldn’t get what they wanted at the same time.

The trouble with not taking the time for me is that there is much about myself that I’m still trying to learn. How much of what I like is actually what I like? Do I do certain activities or watch certain movies and TV shows or choose certain restaurants because they’re what I truly want, or are my decisions made simply out of habit or deference or because they’re the path of least resistance? I occasionally find myself making decisions specifically because they are the opposite of what I’ve always done. In this way, I can determine if I like the “new” way or the “old” way better. Or maybe it’s somewhere in between the two.

Flash forward to my life with S. He is trying to teach me that who I am is enough. He sees me as more than enough. And he pushes me to make decisions, even the smallest ones, to discover which parts of me are really me. Even when making choices is difficult. Or uncomfortable. Or downright scary.

He encourages me to do the things I want to do and doesn’t make me feel guilty for doing them. Down to the smallest action. Which is how I found myself in tears in that little Caribbean alley. We had walked down it a short while earlier to take some photos as I was enchanted by its vibe. (That’s how I take many of my pictures – people and places speak to me – one way my weirdness shows itself.) As we turned around to head back out, I spotted a woman whose whole being was as vibrant as the clothes she wore and the large vases filled with flowers she was carrying.

I quickly asked her if I could take her picture and she responded with “on the way back. These flowers are heavy!” Although disappointed that the arrangements wouldn’t be part of the picture, I understood and waited the few minutes for her to return. Turns out Belinda from Motherland Expressions was as dynamic a personality as she had initially appeared. She whirled on her heels and gladly posed for me after which I took down her information, later reaching out to share the photos with her.

As she turned on her heel and sashayed off (because Miss Belinda did not merely walk – she practically floated), I turned to S and whispered “thank you”. He looked at me strangely and asked “for what?” I said “for allowing me to be who I want to be. For giving me the courage to stop a stranger and ask for a photograph, because I wouldn’t have done that before. It’s silly… but thank you.”

He told me “you don’t have to thank me for that. Who else would you be if not yourself?”

Good question; who else, indeed? I’m still working on the answer to that one.

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