“Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.”
— Khalil Gibran

After my last blog post, I realized something. I imagined my teenage self reading it. What would I think after reading this? Would I feel hopeful? Would I truly believe it?

…or would I just think it was written by someone who is engaged who has no idea how it feels to be on the waiting end that feels like an eternity?

Now that I’m engaged to someone who is my “happily ever after,” I realize how many times I’ve thought, Is this real? or This can’t be real life.

Which just proves that there was at least a small piece of me that never thought this would happen.

My point in saying all of this is that I get what that feels like. You can hear a million stories about couples who found each other and still quietly think that it will never happen for you.

So, in the spirit of that, I’m going to tell you my story of finding my person. I’ve already written a very detailed account of how we found each other — but never from the standpoint of someone who genuinely thought she might not ever find it. Or that it wouldn’t feel as good as it does. Or that it happens for other people and not for me.

If you’ve read any number of my blog posts, you already know that I grew up in a happy household with parents who have always loved and respected one another. Truly — their love story is one that belongs in an unrealistic romcom movie. And besides my parents’ marriage, there are lots of happy marriages in my family.

I knew this kind of love was possible. I was surrounded by it.

But when I got married, it didn’t feel at all how I thought it would.

I thought I’d found my person. I thought my name change was permanent. “You only get married once” was a phrase I thought applied to me.

It didn’t.

I got divorced in 2017. I knew I wanted to get married and find the guy I was supposed to be with the first time around — but I had no idea how that was going to happen.

That year was a dumpster fire. I got divorced, my brother passed on, and then the cat I’d had for almost 20 years also passed on. Seriously. Dumpster fire.

During the summer of 2018, I began working with a life coach to start climbing out of it. The coaching helped tremendously. If you ever have the opportunity to work with a life coach who knows their stuff, I highly recommend it. And yes — I’m talking about the kind of work people like Mel Robbins and Jen Sincero do. I dug into their books while trying to turn my life around.

I wasn’t working with anyone famous, but I was working with someone who was absolutely wonderful. The combination of our weekly calls and my daily journaling is when things started to feel good again.

At the beginning of 2019, she had me write down a list of ten things I wanted for that year. Since much of my life — both at home and at work — still felt like a shitshow, writing down ten things I wanted to change wasn’t very hard.

I came up with nine immediately. But I couldn’t write down a tenth.

Call after call, my coach urged me to write one more. Finally, on January 26 — four weeks after she gave me the assignment — she asked what was holding me back.

“Do you have something you aren’t writing down?” she asked.

I admitted that I did.

“Why?”

“Because…I don’t think it’s going to happen. I can’t get myself to think positively about it, and I don’t want to write down something I know isn’t going to happen.”

She softened and asked what the tenth item was.

I broke down in tears and finally admitted what I’d been holding back for so long. “To fall in love. I want to date again. I want a boyfriend that I’ll fall in love with — but I don’t see that happening by December 31, 2019.”

She was so gentle with me, but she urged me to write it down anyway. Focus on what I wanted and leave the how up to the universe.

So I did. After I hung up, I finished the list:

10. Fall in love.

My mind immediately started racing. All I ever did was work. I rarely went out with friends — who were all women — and I spent time with my family. I loved both, but I didn’t see how any of that would result in a relationship with some mysterious man I’d meet, date, and fall in love with in just eleven months.

But I did what she told me to do and trusted that there was a reason I wanted this. That the desire itself meant something. And if that was true, then the man I was looking for was out there somewhere.

I had no idea how, when, or where I’d find him — or who he even was — but I started to feel, deep down, that something was in the works. I felt it in my bones as I included it in my meditation each morning.

On February 8, 2019, everything changed.

I’d had a great day at work. My boss was happy with me, I’d been productive, and I had a fun night planned with my mom. My dad had gotten us tickets to see Dancing with the Stars live, and we were going that night.

As I was wrapping up my workday, I remembered something funny that had happened with one of the kindergarteners. I wanted to tell my cousin about it, knowing she’d appreciate the story. I opened my contacts and scrolled to her name. She’s married now, but at the time her last name was Boisselle.

Just a couple of names below hers was his.

If you know my fiancé, you know his last name is Bourcier.

I stared at his name and thought about the last interaction we’d had. It was Christmas 2017. I was in Boston visiting that same cousin and not in a good place emotionally. He was struggling too. Instead of being kind, I snapped at him — telling him I needed positive people in my life and that if he couldn’t be that, I didn’t want to talk anymore.

The longer I stared at his name, the heavier the guilt felt. How could I have been so unkind to someone who had been my best friend for almost a decade?

After sending the funny text to my cousin, I scrolled back to his name and typed:
“Hey Garrett, I’m really sorry for the last time we talked. If nothing else, I hope this message finds you well and happy.”

I typed and deleted it several times before hitting send.

Almost immediately, the little thought bubble appeared.

My heart pounded as I waited. Would he tell me to piss off? Would he want nothing to do with me? Would he be happy to hear from me?

He was at work and said he was surprised to hear from me — and asked if we could talk later that night.

I called him after I got home from DWTS. We talked for an hour. I apologized, we caught up, and I hung up feeling peaceful and genuinely happy.

He texted me the next day. I texted him back on a break at work. Then he texted again. And then I texted back after work. And then we texted back and forth for the rest of the night.

Same with the next day. And the next.

Before I knew it, we had been in a never-ending text conversation for nine days. I could count on a text from him by 10 a.m., and every time my phone buzzed, my heart did a little hiccup.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was falling for him. I tried to keep myself in check because this was a friendship I’d just gotten back — and I didn’t want to mess it up.

But I also didn’t want to stay in the friend zone if it could be so much more.

During that time, I was staying with my parents. On February 17, they went out to celebrate their dating anniversary. Yes, they are adorable. They celebrate both their dating anniversary and their wedding anniversary every single year.

I was home alone, and Garrett happened to call me. Somewhere in the conversation, I blurted out a hypothetical: “I mean, if we were dating…”

I immediately stopped talking, realizing I’d said too much.

Garrett paused — for what felt like ten minutes but was probably closer to ten seconds — and asked, “Is that something you’d want?”

Now it was my turn to pause. But he was my best friend, and honesty felt like the right move. “Yes,” I finally said.

“Good,” he replied. “Then we’re on the same page.”

I was floored.

When we hung up, the same thought kept looping in my head: I’m dating Garrett Bourcier. Holy crap. Is this real?

You see, I’d had a crush on him when we first met in college, but I kept it to myself. That turned out to be the right call at the time — he ended up dating one of my friends. By the time this story took place, though, they’d been broken up for seven years, and she was married.

I never thought I’d get a second chance at something that felt right all along.

But I did.

And as it turned out, my coach was right. I trusted the universe, and she didn’t disappoint. I didn’t even have to wait eleven months.

I just had to wait thirteen days.

So if you’re reading this wondering whether it can happen for you, believe me when I tell you: I didn’t think it would happen for me either.

And yet — here we are.

And I promise you: if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, too.

All my love to you, my reader.