Two blogging buddies recently wrote that no one knows them completely. I know this feeling too well - to want to share everything with someone, yet know that you can’t is painful, torturous even.

My divorce left me relieved and happy with my newfound freedom, but it also left me broken. What had been a hopelessly romantic girl had given way to a slightly jaded woman, and it was evident. Ripping my heart off of my sleeve, I stashed it away in a soundproof vault and began to believe in things like “the only person that will ever look out for me is me” and “no one ever loves someone just as she is.” It never occured to me that this could be my heart’s defenses clicking into place; instead, I thought that I had finally discovered a Universal Truth.

I think there’s a process that every recently-single person goes through: First, there’s anger and rage toward the person you no longer love, and a spiteful satisfaction that you don’t have to tolerate his presence anymore. Then you graduate to the insecure phase, wondering how much of the breakup is your fault, and eventually convincing yourself that you are completely unlovable and will never walk hand-in-hand again. During these first phases, there is much introspection and self-discovery, and it can be excruciating. But when we allow ourselves to deal with our inner demons, we emerge as happier, healthier individuals. We move into the final stage of self-acceptance where we’ve come to terms with our past and are willing to move into the future, ready to love and be loved.

Those first two stages were hard for me, tossing me around like a kayak that had been carried into the Bermuda Triangle by a tidal wave, only to be welcomed to that maritime hell by a class-5 hurricane. But after confronting and dealing with each one of my fears, I knew that I would love again. And I was certain that our love would be perfect enough to make Aurora, Cinderella, Ariel, and all the rest of them absolutely green with jealousy.

I was single for 28 months before I met the last man I will ever love. For the first few weeks, I showed him my wildly confident, slightly flirtatious side. I was so convincing that I think I scared him a bit. But on the inside, I was terrified, and had no idea what I was doing. But with a good dose of humor and a generous serving of patience, we made it through the awkward first encounters and became a couple.

So then I thought, “finally! now is when it gets easy!” Wrong again. Opening up to Fabi — letting him into the confines of my soul — was anything but easy. Because when we finally let someone in, we give him the ability to hurt us. As I whispered my secrets and ground him a copy of the key to my heart, I felt vulnerable and fragile. And that is the opposite of easy.

But fear is no excuse to hold back. If we never risk, we never gain. And that it is why we must do the very thing that stands to lose us the most: open up and give of ourselves. With baby steps, I began to confide in Fabi and tell him my past, show him dreams, and share confidences. And with each little test I gave him, he proved that he was worthy. And knowing that was worth far more than 28 lonesome months.

My relationship would not work for everyone, but for me, it is the best union that will ever exist. With confidence that he will always love and accept me, I can share my laundry list of fears, mistakes, insecurities, and sins. I know that he will not always agree with me, but that his love will never waver and our relationship will strengthen, not weaken, from our complete, naked honesty. And this is why, someday, Fabi will know everything that there is to know about me.

Sharing yourself with someone will never be easy. In fact, I think it’s the most risky and frightening thing that we can ever do. But if you start small and open yourself up like a flower in bloom, you’ll find that this leap of faith is the best one you’ll ever make.