Love, Lunacy, and Loss
If there’s anything that will get people to read my blog, it’s love—not love for reading or love for me, but stories about love. There are endless territories worth exploring, but the public dissection of past (and sometimes toxic) relationships is what tends to keep most readers hooked, myself included. Despite my affinity for Carrie Bradshaw and my totally credible male expertise, I don’t only want to write about relationships and sex. But, it will probably pan out that way. Does that mean you’ll read?
Last night in an attempt to find a completely unrelated text chain, the name of my first serious boyfriend appeared in the search results. I couldn’t imagine why I would’ve used the search term in conversation with him, so, “out of curiosity” I opened the thread. My true intentions were obvious, even to me; I wanted to revisit our messages because I hadn’t in over a year, maybe even longer. I’m not sure what I was expecting: sweet nostalgia? Disgust? Cringe? Confirmation of my decision to end the relationship? I was met with all of the above.
The best advice I can give another when they’re going through a breakup is that it will get better with time. Because, despite wanting to reassure my friends, there is realistically nothing that will relieve someone of crippling heartbreak except time. A phrase I once heard from a friend’s mother has always stuck with me, and it’s what I tend to pass onto those seeking solace: “You just have to go through the motions.” I often add that you never completely get over someone—your urges to reach out to them never quite disappear, but instead, subside. It may sound unsatisfactory—when will it end?—but it’s reality, and the latter is surprisingly quite a relief.
The boyfriend that caused me the most emotional turmoil of any human being still crosses my mind, and though I sometimes consider shooting him a text, I never do. And, the good news? I never regret not doing it. After the five to ten minutes of nostalgia pass, I am reminded of why I made the decision that I did. To shed that skin was to begin becoming who I am today—because chances are, I wouldn’t have felt secure in doing so otherwise.
Despite his apparent love for me, I often felt indirectly criticized by him; he found the most insignificant things “cringey” and always spoke negatively about people who engaged in them. Blogging would probably be one of them, if I were to go back in time and ask. Of course, high school me refrained from certain things because he would have condemned them—and, if anyone knows me, it’s that I’ll do what I please. Hopefully this illustrates my point; I am much, much better without him despite the physical nausea that inevitably endured in the months following the breakup. I love this quote I keep seeing on TikTok—let me indulge—: “Of course your life is falling apart; you need to make room for your new one” (source: idk bro).
Reading these texts was… interesting. I believe I experienced similar emotions to those in the actual moment of receiving them: frustration, confusion, the desire for something better, and then, relief. The relief came of a simple “love you”, two words that rid my mind of the horrid exchange that came before. He was never known to communicate well—especially in the form of words of affirmation—and for him to say this, unprompted, put me in a trance. I must give him credit for his manipulative intelligence, because although I used to write this off as being “his personality”, he knew exactly how to make me shut up and carry on.
Even today, reading those words hit me in the chest. For a moment, I felt jealous of my old self. When was the last time I heard that iteration of affection? Yes, my family and my best friends tell me incessantly (maybe to an extremity) how much they love me. But, we all know it’s different with a significant other—especially one who said it so infrequently. I always wonder if I were to reach out, would he be reluctant? Or, would he respond graciously; eagerly? Was he as hurt by it all as I, or did he get over it quickly, because he never seemed that interested anyway?
While reflection is part of my self-proclaimed title (blogger/writer/icon…duh!), I find it best not to wonder too much. Rather than learning to refrain from reaching out to answer the unanswered, it is more wise to let the experience (as it was) speak for itself. The relationship was valuable—and not because it was perfect, because it was far, far from it—but because there was much insight gained. I now know what qualities to avoid, which are those that cause me to feel voiceless and powerless. If someone makes me feel afraid to have my opinions, I am now well aware of the toxic cycle that results from this dynamic. If you let someone get away with being “right” one too many times, you will be wrong forever. This person will get so used to having it their way without being questioned, that when you offer a non-controversial objection, they flip.
In my case, this resulted in days of silence from him. He wouldn’t break up with me, but he would ignore my texts and not reach out. I would have to wait until he decided I was worthy again, which sometimes was a week later. Once, the night before I left for a weekend trip to Miami with my mother (a trip she gifted me for my birthday), I asked him if he could communicate with me more. I asked, calmly, why he didn’t tell me how he felt and always left me guessing. My “overstep” of slight confrontation threatened him so much to the point of no contact for the whole weekend, all of which I was miserable—dry-heaving from anxiety and the anticipation of a breakup. On my very last day of vacation, I texted him asking if we could work it out. His first reply in days? “Of course.” So, all that just for him to decide we would be together. Never again in my life will I allow someone else to have so much power over our dynamic that I feel helpless without it.
I also must blame myself for this dynamic. I’m sure, had I spoken up earlier in our relationship, that it would’ve been different. I don’t necessarily blame his character, but the situation I allowed for. If you give someone power, they’ll take it—and I gave it to him, alright. How could someone seemingly as assertive as myself do such a thing? Love. Willful ignorance.
Well, I hope my personal relationship trauma gave you some insight, too. I am happily single at the moment, feeling almost uncomfortable with the idea of a significant other. I am so happy in my independence, but I know that when I am ready, the person I choose will still let me be happy in that independence—they actually have to, otherwise I won’t choose them this time. They will allow me to express myself freely through whatever medium I so choose. They will let me blog even if they think it’s silly or won’t get me anywhere. They will invite healthy disagreement and respect the coexistence of two perspectives (there’s a really great essay that I think you all should read on this idea; I will attach the written form here and the read-aloud here). And your future partner will, too. If not, I will know you’re lying about reading my blog.