Jane Austen Ruined My Life

I have been devouring a novel titled "Jane Austen Ruined My Life" for the past few days. It is not a difficult read, but it speaks increasingly to my heart. The main character, Emma, finds herself in London in search of the missing letters of Jane Austen. She ends up running into her long lost best friend, whom she lost contact with after marrying Edward, the jerk she caught cheating with her teaching assistant on their kitchen table.
The idea of being born to be Cinderella is not far from the minds of most little girls. When you get older you discover life is not a fairy tale and guys are not princes. Given we are not princesses either, life is far from a Disney movie. At times I find myself incredibly critical toward the thought of falling in love. Other days I am completely immersed in the search for my happy ending. A character in the book replies to Emma's desire for happy endings like this, "Is that what you look for in relationships? An ending?" I've never heard it put better. I have never been engaged or married and I cannot comprehend the emptiness that must come from a divorce. I have, however, been cheated on and lied to. It was not a pleasant experience. In the last few months I have discovered that unexpected betrayals of a more complicated kind are harder to deal with. At least cheating is easy to understand. They went to someone else in place of you. Having friends just walk away for a secret list of long-coming complaints is harder to comprehend.
I find myself drawn to someone right now, but completely insecure about allowing those feelings to show, even if only to myself. Vulnerability is a captivating state. Once there, it is hard to recover. This book also follows Emma's personal desire to write. Edward discouraged it during their marriage as a useless activity. As Emma finds new strength and hope, she finds her pen and her voice once more. I am reminded of the joy and release that comes from allowing your own thoughts to flow through your fingers and be collected and embodied in a physical state. The more I learn about myself, the more I have to say and the more I desire to write it down. Keeping the worry, fear, pain, joy, and expectation inside is emotionally lethal. Writing is my anti-drug as the commercials would say.
Luckily, I have many years to go before I give up on a happy ending or should I say a "happy forever."