Mama Maria

I’ve always been a nurturer. The day my mom was diagnosed, I felt I needed to step up and take care of my sisters. From then on, the “mothering” instinct became second nature to me.

My friends have teased me about it for years. On group vacations, my nickname was always “Mama Maria.” I couldn’t help it—I was always checking that everyone was safe, healthy, and cared for. It runs in my blood. Both my parents and all my grandparents were the same way.

But here’s the truth: when people take advantage of that side of me, it hurts. It stings the heart and soul. And yet, we still keep giving.

Relationships That Felt Like Fostering

I didn’t date much growing up, and even as an adult, relationships for me often felt less like partnerships and more like fostering. Even my marriage fell into that pattern.

I’ve struggled to find balance—the one where I give and also receive. Because once you start giving, and it becomes expected, it’s hard to stop. Until the day comes when they thank you, call you amazing… and then walk away.

The men I dated were at least honest. Every one of them said some version of:

“I really like this girl, and I want to give it a try.”

They left me with a bruised heart and ego, but most are still in my life today, in some capacity. I stood tall, walked away with my head high, screamed inside when I needed to, but always reminded myself that maybe I helped open their hearts to love—even if it wasn’t with me.

“Choose Me, Love Me”

Since I was 17, My Best Friend’s Wedding has been my favorite movie. Julia Roberts’ character Julianne broke my heart when she cried out:

“Choose me. Love me. Marry me.”

I hadn’t even experienced that feeling yet, but I sobbed in the theatre. I’ve always rooted for the love that feels destined but just doesn’t work out.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always had more male friends than female ones. Guys seemed to live drama-free, and with everything in my own life, I didn’t need extra drama. To this day, I still have one constant female friend from high school who has been my rock—because she, like me, never let drama in. She has been my maid of honour, my travel partner, my first call when my heart hurts.

She’s the one who says to me, “You’re too good for anybody, Mia.” And she means it.

Marriage and Letting Go

Eighteen years into my marriage, I sat down with my husband and said, “It feels like we’re glorified roommates.”

And he agreed.

That was the heartbreak. I wanted him to fight for me, to tell me I was the most amazing person he knew. But he didn’t. He quit. Even therapy, where the counsellor told him, “You’re one of the luckiest men in the world and you don’t realize it,” wasn’t enough.

He thought my volunteer work and fundraising took too much away from being a mom. I disagreed. I believed I was teaching my daughter the importance of giving back—just like my mom taught me.

But again… he quit.

What I Want

People see me as independent, someone who doesn’t want to be taken care of. That’s not true.

I want a man beside me who listens when I’ve had a rough day, who calms my anxiety with just a hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t need to make a lot of money, just have his own sense of purpose.

What I don’t want is to constantly “foster”—to build someone up, make them stronger, and then watch them walk away.

The Coping Mechanism

After each heartbreak, I go inward. I question myself. Did I give too much or too little? Was I selfish or selfless? Did they ever really think of me at all? Or were they just pretending until the truth came out?

Sometimes I convince myself that all I need is my circle of friends—that if I just repeat it enough, it won’t hurt as much. It’s a coping mechanism, and it works… until it doesn’t.

Too Much Woman?

Not long before she passed, my aunt said to me, “You are too much woman for a simple man to handle.”

Those words have stuck with me.

But I don’t want to be “handled.” I want someone to say:

“I choose you. I love you.”

Until then, I will remain true to myself, never settle for less, and keep standing tall.

And to all the women out there who feel this too—

You’re welcome.