When Love Is an Addition, Not the Centre

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Carleton chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

Almost a year ago, I wrote about realizing how much of my life was being shaped by men. Not just relationships, but the smaller, constant calculations that creep into daily life: wondering what someone thought of me, reshaping plans to fit around them, and measuring my worth through their attention. That first article was an acknowledgment that something had to change. It was about choosing to shift the focus back onto myself, even if I wasn’t entirely sure what that would look like in practice.

A year later, the difference is clear. Living with the mindset that love should be an addition rather than the centre has been transformative. It has reshaped not only the way I approach dating and relationships but also the way I understand independence, self-worth, and friendship.

The truth is, this philosophy is easier said than done. It is not a single choice made once but an ongoing practice. Young women, especially, are surrounded by cultural cues that tell us our value is tied to whether or not we are chosen. From fairy tales to high school rom-coms to TikTok trends like “girl math” or “girl dinner,” we’re constantly asked to see ourselves in relation to someone else’s narrative. Even a film as empowering as Barbie became a cultural reset precisely because it dared to flip the script: Barbie realized she was more than Ken’s accessory. That moment resonated because so many of us know how easy it is to fall into the pattern of living as if our worth depends on whether someone else wants us.

You are allowed to be the centre of your own story—not the supporting role in someone else’s.

There are still moments when those old scripts creep back in. A text goes unanswered, and self-doubt bubbles up. A situationship ends, and the instinct is to look inward, asking what was wrong with you instead of what wasn’t right with them. It’s a cycle almost every young woman can recognize. The work is in interrupting it, reminding yourself that your life is already whole and meaningful, regardless of who chooses to be part of it.

When you succeed in doing so, even briefly, the change is powerful. Friendships become deeper because they are no longer competing for attention. Ambitions feel sharper because they are not compromised in the name of romance. Even the smallest daily joys, such as journaling on a Sunday morning, cooking dinner with roommates, or saying yes to a new opportunity, take on greater weight because they no longer feel like placeholders until love arrives.

The best part is that none of this means shutting out romance. Love is still part of the story, but it becomes exactly what it should be: an addition, not the blueprint. Dating feels lighter when it is not treated as proof of worth. Relationships are healthier when they are not burdened with the task of making someone feel whole. Love stops being a lifeline and becomes something to enjoy, learn from, and grow within, without becoming the axis around which everything else spins.

Love can enrich your life, but it should never be the measure of it.

This shift also reveals something larger about the culture in which we live. The “sad girl” and “nonchalant era” aesthetics, the endless TikTok debates about “situationships,” and the viral monologues in shows like Fleabag all point to a generation wrestling with loneliness, identity, and the desire to be seen.

But they also reveal how hungry young women are to find validation outside of romance. We want friendships that are as celebrated as boyfriends. We want careers, passions, and identities that are not treated as secondary. We want to be more than someone’s plot twist.

Over the past year, I’ve seen how possible this really is. Friends who once revolved their lives around dating now thrive in creative projects or dive into graduate applications. Group chats that used to spiral about boy drama now light up with celebrations of small wins, new jobs, or simply a funny meme that kept someone going through midterms.

There is a sense of freedom in realizing that the best parts of your twenties don’t have to revolve around men.

Of course, it isn’t perfect. Habits are hard to break, and there are still days when it feels easier to slip back into old habits. But after a year of practicing this shift, the difference is undeniable: more confidence, more stability, and more peace in knowing that life is meaningful on its own terms.

When I wrote my first article, I ended with the thought that choosing yourself, even in the smallest ways, was the first step toward building a fuller life. A year later, I can say with certainty that taking that step changes everything. Once you know what it feels like to be the centre of your own story, it becomes impossible to go back.

For every young woman navigating the chaos of her twenties, here’s the reminder: love can be part of your story, but it doesn’t need to be the centre of it. Build a life first with friendships, passions, and joy, and let love come alongside it.

Because when love is an addition, not the centre, you realize you’ve always been enough on your own. And that is the story worth telling.