When I say those 2 words: boyfriend, relationship, I feel dazed at first. Like I'm dreaming or talking about someone else. But within a millisecond, I feel jolted awake, as though someone slapped me to remind me of what's to come.
The term "relationship" and "boyfriend" conjures feelings of devastation. Like, I'm spiraling down soon and awaits me is imminent devastation and inevitable pain.
Yes, I am in a relationship.
Yes, I have a boyfriend.
In my head, an evil part of me laughs and tells myself that I am re-signing my contract with the devil again. I am inviting myself to be broken by someone again.
Fuck.
It has been years since my last relationship but the damage to my livelihood, my happiness, my ability to love-- remains. I have not recovered or forgotten. My scars seem faded because I stopped focusing on them. But upon touching those areas, you will see that my wounds are still open, the pain still raw.
Why can't I be normal and happy?
Why can't I simply bask in the joy of being with someone?
Plus: What does it mean to have such strong reactions? Are my feelings simply a reminder of my past? Or do they also serve as as omens for my future?
Enchanted forest
Fall decoration @ Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas, October 2010
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
Reading between the lines
As in every romantic relationship, I find myself reading between the lines all the time. Does he mean x when he says y? Does he think y when he actually wants z? Is he pretending to suggest z when when he's actually trying to convey x?
With thoughts like these in my head, I can never stop. I cannot stop to smell the flowers and enjoy what I have. I am too busy searching for thorns in the roses and anticipating being poked and inevitably bleeding to death.
Sound dramatic? It's exactly how my heart feels and I have the perfect example from this weekend:
Today is actually Jay's birthday and since we are a bit of a distance away, we celebrated over the weekend. Before coming, he said he'd be leaving early on Sunday morning to get back home to do fun outdoor activities with his brother. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief that he was leaving early. His plan worked out perfectly for me because I had a ton of work to do and I desperately needed Sunday to play catch-up. But the fact that Jay said he was leaving early threw me for a loop because he was the one wanting distance, not me. And so, my feelings of insecurity, doubt, rejection flooded over. I took his request to mean that he no longer liked me and he would prefer to spend time doing other things with other people who are not me.
**As I write this down, I recognize the absurdity of my logic, but at the moment, my feeling of being subtly rejected was soo soo strong.
I told my brother how much this bothered me and I expressed sadness and confusion. Why isn't he maximizing his birthday weekend with me? Why doesn't he want to spend as much together as possible? What does it mean that he's not wanting to stay through to Sunday? Why?
My brother's response?
''He's coming all the way up to spend a couple of days with you. On the last day of the weekend, you have a ton to do. And he's leaving, so it all works out. This works out perfectly! The universe has spoken."
Oh, was all I could say. Fine, I muttered, before walking away with my tail tucked between my legs. My brother made a great point. Obviously Jay likes me. He was willing to drive 2.5 hours to see me this weekend, and also every weekend that he's come up since October!
Why couldn't I see that earlier? Why did I only see the glass half-empty, the bottle ready to be discarded? Ahem, I am this metaphorical bottle. Why did I have to analyze everything so that the outcome is always that he is done with me?
The logical part of me believes that we all create narratives in our head that function like blueprints. My blueprint is always the same. It's being left, being abandoned, being left in the dust before I even realize its over.
Must I replay this blueprint time and time again?
In some ways, I know the answer is yes and it is the right answer. I've been left before. I've been abandoned before. I've been left in the dust, billowing and waiting for years before realizing he has long gone. I will never be that gullible again. I never want to be such a fool again. I will never be so unprepared about being walked out on and experiencing the shock that is pain. My blueprint serves a function and an acquired survival skill that I learned the very very hard way. While it may not always be healthy, I've had to learn to put up my guard to read between the lines.
With thoughts like these in my head, I can never stop. I cannot stop to smell the flowers and enjoy what I have. I am too busy searching for thorns in the roses and anticipating being poked and inevitably bleeding to death.
Sound dramatic? It's exactly how my heart feels and I have the perfect example from this weekend:
Today is actually Jay's birthday and since we are a bit of a distance away, we celebrated over the weekend. Before coming, he said he'd be leaving early on Sunday morning to get back home to do fun outdoor activities with his brother. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief that he was leaving early. His plan worked out perfectly for me because I had a ton of work to do and I desperately needed Sunday to play catch-up. But the fact that Jay said he was leaving early threw me for a loop because he was the one wanting distance, not me. And so, my feelings of insecurity, doubt, rejection flooded over. I took his request to mean that he no longer liked me and he would prefer to spend time doing other things with other people who are not me.
**As I write this down, I recognize the absurdity of my logic, but at the moment, my feeling of being subtly rejected was soo soo strong.
I told my brother how much this bothered me and I expressed sadness and confusion. Why isn't he maximizing his birthday weekend with me? Why doesn't he want to spend as much together as possible? What does it mean that he's not wanting to stay through to Sunday? Why?
My brother's response?
''He's coming all the way up to spend a couple of days with you. On the last day of the weekend, you have a ton to do. And he's leaving, so it all works out. This works out perfectly! The universe has spoken."
Oh, was all I could say. Fine, I muttered, before walking away with my tail tucked between my legs. My brother made a great point. Obviously Jay likes me. He was willing to drive 2.5 hours to see me this weekend, and also every weekend that he's come up since October!
Why couldn't I see that earlier? Why did I only see the glass half-empty, the bottle ready to be discarded? Ahem, I am this metaphorical bottle. Why did I have to analyze everything so that the outcome is always that he is done with me?
The logical part of me believes that we all create narratives in our head that function like blueprints. My blueprint is always the same. It's being left, being abandoned, being left in the dust before I even realize its over.
Must I replay this blueprint time and time again?
In some ways, I know the answer is yes and it is the right answer. I've been left before. I've been abandoned before. I've been left in the dust, billowing and waiting for years before realizing he has long gone. I will never be that gullible again. I never want to be such a fool again. I will never be so unprepared about being walked out on and experiencing the shock that is pain. My blueprint serves a function and an acquired survival skill that I learned the very very hard way. While it may not always be healthy, I've had to learn to put up my guard to read between the lines.
Leaving and being left
I have... a boyfriend. The word rolls off my tongue awkwardly and I can't help but feel like an imposter. A boyfriend, as in someone who is supposed to be committed to me, likes me, wants me, and chooses me. "Boyfriend." The last time I had one, he did none of the above and broke my heart in a million pieces. He betrayed me over and over again until I was too broken to sustain a relationship with him much less with myself.
My current boyfriend, Jay, is amazing, though. In the 4 months that we've dated, he has nourished my soul and made me feel hope again. Jay is consistent, attentive, open, and happy. He is a happy guy. That is so refreshing and exciting to me. Already, he has opened his world to me by introducing me to friends and family. With Jay, it's not just words. His actions speak volumes and are always consistent with his words. He opens the door for me each and every time we go out. He hugs me and kisses me spontaneously and frequently. He calls. He texts. We skype. We make love, and not just sex. He makes 2.5 hour drives each weekend to see me and to spend a few hours or at least 1-2 nights together to show me I am important to him. His consistency heals my wounds and his easygoing presence makes me feel freer than I've ever been. When I'm with Jay, I can be myself. I even forget sometimes that before him, I had been broken and unsure if I could ever open my heart again.
We never had the boyfriend/girlfriend relationship conversation. We just became it. Sounds easy, right? Not at all. Not without anxiety on my part, of course. Last week, I asked to confirm our status and he looked at me incredulously and said of course we are, why would I think differently? Little does he know how much courage it took for me to even utter those words. "Uhh... we never talked about it?" was my response. "Oh" he said. "But I have referred to you as my boyfriend, just so you know." To which he said, "Yeah, me too." (And then we laughed because apparently I am his boyfriend too)
The problem with this wonderful, loving, healthy, happy boyfriend is that his future is TBD. Now that I'm out of graduate school, I finally have some stability in my life. For him? He is in his last & final year, meaning the future is still completely unknown to him.
On our way to the airport in December, while driving me so I could go home to see family, we talked about his graduation plans. I asked questions and he answered. He dropped the bomb on me that he may be graduating this summer, and he does not know where he'll be next. Unofficially, he has received offers already to do research in another part of the U.S. He also has an amazing offer to do research in Europe with a group that is supposedly stellar in his field. Yes, Europe. The one across the ocean and in a different part of the world. My heart plummeted when he shared this and I simultaneously wanted to cry and throw up at the same time.
Since then, I haven't asked him any questions because I am too terrified and immobilized. Last year, when I was deciding on leaving the city, I had the same options open to me, and similar conversations with those I was dating at the time. I still remember the looks on their faces when I told them, and the anticipated urgency I felt to alleviate their fears. I hope to stay here. I'd prefer to stay here. If there's a reason to stay here, I would...
This time, it's me on the receiving end. I'm the one with the fear on my face, the blood draining out of my body, my knees weak and my stomach doing kicks and flip-flops. In the car, Jay had squeezed my thigh and said he would like to stay nearby rather than leave. I hope to. (squeezes my leg). It's what I'd prefer. (squeeze again). As he smiled at me, I felt numb inside. I managed to maintain a casual expression, all the while thinking: it may not be an option and... is this sayonara soon?
So, this is what it's like on the other side.
This is what it feels like to be the person left behind, rather than the person doing the leaving.
My current boyfriend, Jay, is amazing, though. In the 4 months that we've dated, he has nourished my soul and made me feel hope again. Jay is consistent, attentive, open, and happy. He is a happy guy. That is so refreshing and exciting to me. Already, he has opened his world to me by introducing me to friends and family. With Jay, it's not just words. His actions speak volumes and are always consistent with his words. He opens the door for me each and every time we go out. He hugs me and kisses me spontaneously and frequently. He calls. He texts. We skype. We make love, and not just sex. He makes 2.5 hour drives each weekend to see me and to spend a few hours or at least 1-2 nights together to show me I am important to him. His consistency heals my wounds and his easygoing presence makes me feel freer than I've ever been. When I'm with Jay, I can be myself. I even forget sometimes that before him, I had been broken and unsure if I could ever open my heart again.
We never had the boyfriend/girlfriend relationship conversation. We just became it. Sounds easy, right? Not at all. Not without anxiety on my part, of course. Last week, I asked to confirm our status and he looked at me incredulously and said of course we are, why would I think differently? Little does he know how much courage it took for me to even utter those words. "Uhh... we never talked about it?" was my response. "Oh" he said. "But I have referred to you as my boyfriend, just so you know." To which he said, "Yeah, me too." (And then we laughed because apparently I am his boyfriend too)
The problem with this wonderful, loving, healthy, happy boyfriend is that his future is TBD. Now that I'm out of graduate school, I finally have some stability in my life. For him? He is in his last & final year, meaning the future is still completely unknown to him.
On our way to the airport in December, while driving me so I could go home to see family, we talked about his graduation plans. I asked questions and he answered. He dropped the bomb on me that he may be graduating this summer, and he does not know where he'll be next. Unofficially, he has received offers already to do research in another part of the U.S. He also has an amazing offer to do research in Europe with a group that is supposedly stellar in his field. Yes, Europe. The one across the ocean and in a different part of the world. My heart plummeted when he shared this and I simultaneously wanted to cry and throw up at the same time.
Since then, I haven't asked him any questions because I am too terrified and immobilized. Last year, when I was deciding on leaving the city, I had the same options open to me, and similar conversations with those I was dating at the time. I still remember the looks on their faces when I told them, and the anticipated urgency I felt to alleviate their fears. I hope to stay here. I'd prefer to stay here. If there's a reason to stay here, I would...
This time, it's me on the receiving end. I'm the one with the fear on my face, the blood draining out of my body, my knees weak and my stomach doing kicks and flip-flops. In the car, Jay had squeezed my thigh and said he would like to stay nearby rather than leave. I hope to. (squeezes my leg). It's what I'd prefer. (squeeze again). As he smiled at me, I felt numb inside. I managed to maintain a casual expression, all the while thinking: it may not be an option and... is this sayonara soon?
So, this is what it's like on the other side.
This is what it feels like to be the person left behind, rather than the person doing the leaving.
2 year hiatus
Hello.
It's been almost 2 years since I last visited this blog, much less write in it. I thought I had moved on and was too good for it. So, I actively ignore it despite the many times I would have benefitted from having this space for myself.
Last year, I moved to a big city for a year-long internship, where I experienced an entire year of diversity, night life, excitement, and constant stimulation. I imagined a life of active dating, romance, and I was certain, I was absolutely certain that I would be meeting the love of my life and living happily ever after.
Boy, was I wrong.
I was miserable last year, yet I did not write in this journal or any other journal. I refused. I stubbornly believed that writing it meant accepting it, and I did not want to admit how disappointing, nay, how devastating the year turned out to be. I had been so positive that I would be done with heartache, sadness, and pain. I wanted nothing more than to move on from this blog and its topic. Ineeded to believe I had a healthier self and self-in-relationships.
Well, I partially succeeded because I put myself out there and dated a whole lot.
But I was also miserable almost all of the time.
Last year = roller coaster year of emotions. Partly, it was my unreal expectations. The other part was that the men I dated did not believe in anything other than immediate gratification. Put those 2 together and it was instant heartache for me. INSTANT. CONSTANT. REPETITIVE.
The trouble with every one of those relationships was that I was leaving their city, and I had to believe I would meet the one who would change my life forever. My one-year internship was just that: one year. I knew I would likely leave and re-locate elsewhere. I just didn't know how quickly the offer would come, and whether I would take it. When I received an offer to work in a community that is rural, less progressive, less exciting, and less desirable-- I was tortured. Love life or career life? Stay and pursue the unknown by following my heart or following what is reasonable, logical, realistic, and necessary for both financial survival as well as my own career plan. I secretly hoped I'd meet my knight in shining armor and he would tell me what to do. I wanted him to say stay! Because the truth is, I would have. If someone had asked me.
No one asked me. So, I wrote pros/cons lists. I consulted with friends, colleagues, mentors, teachers, advisers, therapists, and even fortune-tellers. I cried. A lot. I contemplated not making any decision altogether. In fact, I spent a lot of time under the comforter pretending reality did not exist. In the end, I decided to leave and take my current position. Goodbye city, hello village (OK, I exaggerate-- ruralville, not village). Still, it was one of the most challenging decisions of my life, and yet I knew that I had to pursue what is realistic and within my control. My career is dependable and I understand it far more than any relationship or love life.
Well, once I knew I was leaving, the dating experience-- which was just starting-- began to plummet and spiral for the remainder of the year. Dating became anxiety-provoking. On date 1 or at least 2, I would have to tell them the truth. My personality called for this kind of openness and also the men I dated often wanted to know my future plans. Hearing the word "internship" naturally led them to question: what are you doing afterwards? And upon hearing my news that I would be leaving, the blood would literally drain out of their faces while they tried to compose themselves to act polite, accepting, and open to the possibility of continuing to date me. No one wanted to date me after that, but still, I held on, clinging to the hope that one of them could be mr. right.
One guy strung me along all 7 months that we knew each other and broke my heart in small increments over his hot-and-cold attitude. Another guy insisted I was the love of his life and yet his behaviors never matched his words (e.g., inconsistent texts, last-minute cancelled dates, no time to see me-- ever). The last guy was a was so kind and warm that I mistook him for a friend. I (or we) missed the timing to be something more and when I eventually realized my feelings and poured my heart out to him, he no longer had those feelings for me and said we missed the boat.
Tears. I cried so many tears last year over 3 specific boys. In a city as large as the one I was in, I never felt as lonely as I did, or as insignificant to so many people.
And now? Having moved to this small rural community where I constantly feel an absence of diversity, city life, or anything remotely cool, I have met and am dating an amazing guy who makes my heart soar. (More on him, later, I promise!)
Isn't it ironic that when I moved here a few months ago, I had decided to give up on pursuing a love life, much being in one?
With my 2 year hiatus behind me, I am now wise enough to return to this blog to face myself honestly and admit that I was at my lowest point last year. I am finally willing to confront how last year was. I am now able to reflect on how painful that year was, and to want to learn from those experiences.
Despite the fear that arises from deep in my stomach, I'd also like to be honest about my current relationship and to sit with the anxieties that erupt out of me. This relationship is the healthiest relationship I have ever been in. It is so good that I am terrified. My stomach flips when I use the word "relationship" because prior experiences suggest that it will only go downhill. Because of these instinctual reactions, I know that it's time to return to writing-- for me, for the collective us that feel these pains, for whoever can benefit from my inner angst. Whatever happens in these relationships-- good or bad, I challenge myself to myself to write again and to accept vulnerability again.
Welcome back, me. It's time to dig deep again.
It's been almost 2 years since I last visited this blog, much less write in it. I thought I had moved on and was too good for it. So, I actively ignore it despite the many times I would have benefitted from having this space for myself.
Last year, I moved to a big city for a year-long internship, where I experienced an entire year of diversity, night life, excitement, and constant stimulation. I imagined a life of active dating, romance, and I was certain, I was absolutely certain that I would be meeting the love of my life and living happily ever after.
Boy, was I wrong.
I was miserable last year, yet I did not write in this journal or any other journal. I refused. I stubbornly believed that writing it meant accepting it, and I did not want to admit how disappointing, nay, how devastating the year turned out to be. I had been so positive that I would be done with heartache, sadness, and pain. I wanted nothing more than to move on from this blog and its topic. I
Well, I partially succeeded because I put myself out there and dated a whole lot.
But I was also miserable almost all of the time.
Last year = roller coaster year of emotions. Partly, it was my unreal expectations. The other part was that the men I dated did not believe in anything other than immediate gratification. Put those 2 together and it was instant heartache for me. INSTANT. CONSTANT. REPETITIVE.
The trouble with every one of those relationships was that I was leaving their city, and I had to believe I would meet the one who would change my life forever. My one-year internship was just that: one year. I knew I would likely leave and re-locate elsewhere. I just didn't know how quickly the offer would come, and whether I would take it. When I received an offer to work in a community that is rural, less progressive, less exciting, and less desirable-- I was tortured. Love life or career life? Stay and pursue the unknown by following my heart or following what is reasonable, logical, realistic, and necessary for both financial survival as well as my own career plan. I secretly hoped I'd meet my knight in shining armor and he would tell me what to do. I wanted him to say stay! Because the truth is, I would have. If someone had asked me.
No one asked me. So, I wrote pros/cons lists. I consulted with friends, colleagues, mentors, teachers, advisers, therapists, and even fortune-tellers. I cried. A lot. I contemplated not making any decision altogether. In fact, I spent a lot of time under the comforter pretending reality did not exist. In the end, I decided to leave and take my current position. Goodbye city, hello village (OK, I exaggerate-- ruralville, not village). Still, it was one of the most challenging decisions of my life, and yet I knew that I had to pursue what is realistic and within my control. My career is dependable and I understand it far more than any relationship or love life.
Well, once I knew I was leaving, the dating experience-- which was just starting-- began to plummet and spiral for the remainder of the year. Dating became anxiety-provoking. On date 1 or at least 2, I would have to tell them the truth. My personality called for this kind of openness and also the men I dated often wanted to know my future plans. Hearing the word "internship" naturally led them to question: what are you doing afterwards? And upon hearing my news that I would be leaving, the blood would literally drain out of their faces while they tried to compose themselves to act polite, accepting, and open to the possibility of continuing to date me. No one wanted to date me after that, but still, I held on, clinging to the hope that one of them could be mr. right.
One guy strung me along all 7 months that we knew each other and broke my heart in small increments over his hot-and-cold attitude. Another guy insisted I was the love of his life and yet his behaviors never matched his words (e.g., inconsistent texts, last-minute cancelled dates, no time to see me-- ever). The last guy was a was so kind and warm that I mistook him for a friend. I (or we) missed the timing to be something more and when I eventually realized my feelings and poured my heart out to him, he no longer had those feelings for me and said we missed the boat.
Tears. I cried so many tears last year over 3 specific boys. In a city as large as the one I was in, I never felt as lonely as I did, or as insignificant to so many people.
And now? Having moved to this small rural community where I constantly feel an absence of diversity, city life, or anything remotely cool, I have met and am dating an amazing guy who makes my heart soar. (More on him, later, I promise!)
Isn't it ironic that when I moved here a few months ago, I had decided to give up on pursuing a love life, much being in one?
With my 2 year hiatus behind me, I am now wise enough to return to this blog to face myself honestly and admit that I was at my lowest point last year. I am finally willing to confront how last year was. I am now able to reflect on how painful that year was, and to want to learn from those experiences.
Despite the fear that arises from deep in my stomach, I'd also like to be honest about my current relationship and to sit with the anxieties that erupt out of me. This relationship is the healthiest relationship I have ever been in. It is so good that I am terrified. My stomach flips when I use the word "relationship" because prior experiences suggest that it will only go downhill. Because of these instinctual reactions, I know that it's time to return to writing-- for me, for the collective us that feel these pains, for whoever can benefit from my inner angst. Whatever happens in these relationships-- good or bad, I challenge myself to myself to write again and to accept vulnerability again.
Welcome back, me. It's time to dig deep again.
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