Single Is Not a Waiting Room: Why Autonomy Deserves Celebration

An essay on being single in your 30s, redefining life milestones, and celebrating autonomy beyond marriage timelines.

At 36, I’ve attended my fair share of bachelorette parties, weddings, baby showers, gender reveals, housewarmings—even engagement parties.

The list of celebrations seems to explode beyond Christmas and your annual birthday once you become a unit of two.

I never questioned this.

Until the years passed. Until the money and energy I poured into celebrating coupledom and family milestones became more noticeable. Until my own perceived “lack” of those milestones became noticeable too.

What if I never marry? What if I never have children?

These aren’t necessarily my desires. I would ultimately like to find a partner I love—who loves me—who helps me grow, and I, him. I’d like the chance to decide together whether we want children.

But I also deeply desire a life intentionally built. A life aligned with my values. A life whole on its own. Without needing a husband or children to feel accomplished, successful, happy, or complete.

What I want most is peace. Confidence. Discernment. The ability to recognize the right partner from a place of strength—not from urgency. Not from desperation. Not from a timeline society has subtly and not-so-subtly embedded in us.

Which brings me back to milestones.

Yes—engagements, marriages, and births are worthy of celebration.

But so is choosing yourself.

There have been wins, lessons, and pivotal moments in my life where choosing myself was the hardest—and best—decision I could have made. Those moments went quiet. Unmentioned. Uncelebrated.

So why don’t we celebrate those milestones?

The ones that build self-trust.

The ones that give us the courage to leave toxic relationships.

To move cities alone.

To choose a life that doesn’t follow the expected script.

I’m not suggesting party invites for every healthy choice. That would be exhausting—and yes, we’d look insufferable. But why can’t we intentionally mark these moments? Maybe with a small dinner. A handful of close friends. A toast. A simple statement of why you’re proud of yourself.

And I’d like to propose something a step further: A Gift Registry for Choosing Yourself.

A public list—not out of need, but out of ownership. Items that reflect your independence, taste, and long-term vision.

A contribution toward that once-in-a-lifetime trip.A handmade leather jacket you’ll wear for decades.A gift card to your favorite athletic brand.Pottery classes.A writing retreat.Whatever makes you, you.

Send it around the holidays. Update it on your birthday. Include a short list of accomplishments you’re proud of that year:

The new job.

The solo trip to Europe.

The marathon you trained for.

The boundary you finally held.

The more we name the joy in lives lived on our own terms, the more confident we become in choosing who gets access to that life.

When we live under the quiet belief that we are “not enough” as we are, we close off—emotionally, spiritually, physically.

So stop.

Look at where you are right now. And celebrate every step that brought you here.

You’re still here. You’re still trying. You’re still growing.

Single or partnered—that doesn’t change.

We will always be our own people. With our own interests. Our own perspectives. Our own path.

And the sooner we’re comfortable standing fully in ourselves, the better we are at building a life that feels wholly ours.

Not borrowed. Not rushed. Not performed.

Earned. Chosen. Lived.