I still vividly remember the first Valentine's Day I spent as a single woman after nearly a decade of being a partner -- how much I fretted in the days leading up to it, how disorienting it was to suddenly be by myself, and how I made the best of it anyway.
In this letter to my past self, I reflect on finding love, hope, and meaning outside of a romantic partnership on Valentine's Day.
Dear Christy,
I know this Valentine’s Day feels strange.
The red hearts and chocolates are everywhere, and they are landing differently this year. For so long, Valentine’s Day was an “us” and a “we.” It was shared routines, shared plans, shared expectations. And you loved that. There is no need to pretend otherwise.
It has been a few months since the relationship ended, and I want you to know something important right away: you are finding your way back to yourself, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.
You are no longer sleeping on the floor. You moved into a new condo and poured hours into painting it, decorating it, and turning it into a place that feels like home. Every morning, you wake up and watch the sun rise through the bay window, and even if you don’t have the language for it yet, that quiet feeling creeping in is hope.
You signed up for a stand-up comedy class. I know that surprised you. You’re laughing again. You’re sitting in rooms full of interesting people who have also been through something hard this year. You are being reminded that pain is universal, and laughter is healing. You need that reminder more than you realize.
I also need to say this clearly: you are allowed to be done with being sad.
Thanksgiving nearly broke you. Christmas passed in a fog. New Year’s Eve didn’t feel like a fresh start at all. You worried that something was wrong with you because joy wasn’t showing up on command. Nothing was wrong. You were grieving.
But here’s what I love about you. Even in grief, you refused to become bitter. You refused to ignore Valentine’s Day or pretend it didn’t exist. That has never been who you are.
You remembered how you celebrated before there was a “we.” When love was simple. Heart-shaped pancakes with Mom. Flowers from Dad. Passing out those silly cards at school. Wearing red and pink just because. Love didn’t require romance back then. It just required connection.
You remembered Galentine’s nights in college. Chocolate fondue. Painted nails. Romantic comedies. Friendship. Presence. Joy that didn’t depend on a partner.
And then you made a decision that matters more than you know right now. You decided not to let this moment pass you by.
You called a friend. You chose sushi and a movie. You chose connection. You chose to invest in a friendship that had quietly taken a back seat to careers, relationships, and life’s constant demands. You talked about family, work, dreams, and the future. There was love there. Real love. The kind that steadies you. This choice would become a tradition that lasts for years- sushi and a movie, time spent investing in a relationship that is important, even though it wasn't a romantic one.
I want you to remember this Valentine’s Day, not as the first one alone, but as the first one you chose yourself without closing your heart.
You are learning that love doesn’t disappear when a relationship ends. It simply changes shape. It shows up in friendships, in family, in the courage to rebuild, and eventually, in how you treat yourself.
So today, celebrate. Make the pancakes. Buy the flowers. Wear the red and pink. Laugh with someone who knows you. Let yourself feel both tenderness and hope. Pick up the phone and call your friend.
Life is too short to miss these moments. You are doing better than you think. And I promise you this, even if you can’t see it yet: this Valentine’s Day is not an ending. It is a quiet beginning.
With love,
Your future self, Christy