Only an Alchemist Need Apply
In 2021, I thought being loved meant finding someone who could see the gold beneath the mess. Five years later, I realized being seen and being known are not quite the same thing.
Originally written in 2021.
An alchemist: someone involved in a seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination. Historically, alchemy was based on the transformation of matter—particularly the attempt to turn base metals into gold or discover a universal elixir.
So, what is the “matter” with my family?
Oh, it’s a family full of hurt and pained children and a tattered mother. That is the raw material dug up from a toxic environment. Each piece is oddly shaped, covered with muck and dirt. Each has been touched by its own version of hell. That is their origin.
Now the protective outer shell that covered the core of the gem is being released through the mining process. Heat is being applied. Cuts are being made to expose the unique beauty of that matter. The process of transition looks painful, messy, and doubtful, but each cut creates a new face of the gem. Each face is necessary to create the magnificent end result. Without those painful cuts, the same beauty and clarity could never be produced.
An Honest Dating Profile
Most will only see a single mother with seven kids. Most will see the mental and emotional health issues, the breakdown of a family caused by domestic violence, substance abuse, and divorce. They will see the dysfunction and the results of the trauma and drama that came from two decades in a toxic environment.
Some will see a single mother and seven kids who got out of that environment and are still struggling with the aftereffects. They will see a long, complicated road and may doubt whether healing will ever fully occur.
A few might see a mother and seven kids overcoming the odds and creating a brand-new life for themselves. They might recognize that although we were not untouched by the past, the scars themselves show that healing has taken place.
Fewer still might see the potential to become part of this family but still not quite see the true beauty of each soul within this very unique family unit.
But then there will be the alchemist.
The alchemist will see what the “matter” is with this mother and these seven children. He will see the transformation that has already occurred. He will see the way the unique and specific elements of the mother and each child interact within the family, creating something new that did not exist before.
He sees the gold before it has even fully manifested.
He understands that without all the trauma, drama, and healing of the past, he would never have had the opportunity to meet what this mother and these seven children have become—the way they touch the world, one person outside this family at a time.
The mother who was battered and worn but never gave up is now a mother who judges no mother, but instead encourages her to keep moving forward with her own family.
The sons who have experienced homelessness, drug addiction, mental health crises, residential treatment, and incarceration are now sons who go to work and pack an extra sandwich because the day before they gave their lunch to someone who was homeless and hungry.
The daughters who witnessed the mistreatment of their brothers because of emotional or mental health struggles are now daughters who will stand up for any child or adult they see being bullied or mistreated.
And for that truly magical being who can see the beautiful matter that my family is, perhaps he will add his magic to ours and something entirely new will be created.
Only alchemists who know their own magic and recognize it in others should even attempt to date this mother of seven.
I Don’t Want to Be Needed. I Want to Be Known.
A Follow-Up, written September 27, 2026
Five years later, I still love what I wrote.
But I think I understand something now that I didn’t understand then.
Seeing the gold isn’t enough.
Someone can admire you and still not really know you. Someone can be fascinated by your strength, impressed by your independence, moved by your story, attracted to your depth. They can think you’re beautiful, unusual, resilient, intelligent, funny, spiritual—whatever.
And still never actually become curious about you.
I notice this especially in dating.
A man will ask me what I want, which sounds like curiosity. But sometimes underneath that question I can almost feel another one being asked:
What do I need to be so that you will want me?
What kind of communication do you like? How often do you want to see someone? What are you looking for? What makes you feel loved? What do you need from a partner?
All perfectly reasonable questions.
Except sometimes it feels less like someone opening a door into my world and more like he is collecting specifications.
Ah. Okay.
She likes space. She likes initiative. She doesn’t want constant texting. She wants emotional depth. She likes a man who makes plans.
Got it.
Now let me become those things.
And the strange part is that this should probably feel flattering.
Instead, it makes me want to disappear.
Because I don’t want someone studying me so he can become the correct answer. I don’t want to hand a man an instruction manual for how to win me. I want him to already be himself, and then I want to find out who that is.
I want him to wonder who I am without immediately needing that information to produce an outcome.
There is a kind of curiosity that doesn’t reach for anything. It just notices. It asks because it genuinely wants to know the answer. It remembers something I said because it interested him, not because he filed it under Useful Information for Securing Woman.
It doesn’t constantly adjust itself to fit me. It doesn’t watch my face to see whether the answer was correct. It isn’t quietly asking, Is she going to like me? Am I getting another date? How do I keep this moving forward?
It is simply present.
And I didn’t realize for a long time how much I respond to that.
I have met men who seemed extremely interested in me and somehow made me feel less seen the more interested they became. Their attention had an objective.
They weren’t necessarily doing anything wrong. Most of them were probably just dating the way people date. You meet someone you like. You want them to like you too. You try to show them you’re compatible.
But when I feel someone becoming whatever he thinks I need, something in me closes.
Because now I am no longer meeting him.
I am meeting his presentation.
And I don’t particularly want to be presented to either. I want to show up as myself without trying to be the woman somebody is hoping to find.
That is probably why the people I feel safest around tend to have something in common: they don’t seem to need anything from me immediately.
They are interested without needing an outcome. They aren’t constantly leaning forward. They leave room. And in that room, something surprising happens.
I become more visible.
Not because they asked better questions, but because I don’t feel like my answers are being used for anything. I can say something weird without wondering what conclusion they are drawing. I can be quiet without somebody rushing to fill the silence. I can disagree without feeling like I just failed some compatibility test. I can reveal something slowly because nobody is standing there waiting for the next piece.
Maybe that is what I was trying to describe with the alchemist all those years ago.
I thought I wanted someone capable of looking at everything my family had been through and seeing the beauty that came from it.
I still do.
But now I think the alchemist isn’t someone who looks at me and announces that he sees gold. He isn’t there to transform me. He isn’t there to rescue me from what I was. And he isn’t standing beside me trying to figure out what combination of ingredients will make me choose him.
He knows his own magic.
I know mine.
Then maybe we stand there long enough, curious enough, and unguarded enough to find out what happens when the two exist in the same space.
No agenda. No audition. No need to become anything.
Just:
Who are you, really?
And maybe even more importantly:
Who are you when you’re not trying to be what I want?
Because I don’t want to be needed. I don’t particularly want to be won. And I definitely don’t want someone to become my answer.
I want to be known.
And I want the chance to know him too.