Disappointment

How do you prepare from being disappointed by your partner?

I tentatively asked Jay about his upcoming plans because I have a possible social event happening during the same week he'll have vacation time. He texted back to say he'll be going to his parents' home for the weekend but would love to attend such an event with me.

What a nice response.  How disappointing it was for me.  I felt momentarily devastated that he didn't say: "Come home with me for a few days!"

I'm also confused because I don't get why he would "love to" attend an event with me when he obviously has already made important plans!

I'm utterly disappointed which means I had a lot of hope.  I didn't know I had such hopes!  That's the most surprising part. So now I'm kicking myself for having been this hopeful. What the heck was I thinking?! Did I assume that by meeting his parents, he's now going to want to invite me to his childhood home? (secret answer = yes). While I'm partly mad at him, I'm so mad at myself for having an unrealistic expectation. I couldn't respond to his message, actually. It took me a few hours before I could provide a nonchalant text.

So, it's been hours later and I still feel crestfallen. This is why I should have continued to maintain the distinction between I" from "we" and "he" from "me."  He made plans for his vacation and didn't include me. It's perfectly  fine-- people should be able to make plans without each other, especially to hang out with their families!

I'm just disappointed because my expectations were obviously so different.  How mortifying.

I am love-able challenge: Day 1

I am love-able because...

...
...
...

Um, this project is way harder than anticipated. It took me a few minutes longer to fall asleep last night because I was ransacking my brain for something anything to write for today.

Half a day later, I am still empty-handed.


Oh! I got it!

This morning, I called to make reservations at a fancy restaurant for me & Jay this Friday night (Valentine's day!). This will be my first Valentine's Day celebration, being with a the person that I am in a relationship with!  In the past, I've either celebrated it via long-distance dating, or not at all because my ex-boyfriend was disgusted by these "stupid American capitalistic holidays."  It didn't matter to him that I loved the romance, the excitement, the drama, and the overemphasis placed on being extra lovey-dovey for an entire day.

Jay has no idea what I have planned for him: a pre-set meal that involves appetizer, salad, main course, and a dessert in a nice restaurant with live music! I also got him some expensive bicycle lights as a gift. I did my some thorough research on the best kind of lights for commuter biking. I also made this decision without getting the OK from Jay's brother. For Jay's birthday last month, I picked out the perfect present for him thanks to brotherly input. This time, I'm taking a significant risk by going with my gut instinct.

I am surprised by my own proactive decision to make plans for Friday night! I wonder how much this has to do with being in a secure and happy relationship. Because for the most part, that's what being with Jay has been like (outside of my head, that is). I have decided take risks by:

- planning our dinner date
- getting him a vday present
- writing him an awesome card (I already have it planned out what I'll say)

In taking this risks, I have my answer for this challenge!

I am loveable because... I am willing to take risks in the name of love!

I am willing to put my heart on-the-line and take a non-traditional gender role approach to being the planner, the one who will wine-and-dine my beau, and to sweep him off of his feet! I even have the lingerie planned for the night, so it will be a night of sweet romance and candle-light sexiness! :)

There are so many ways the night can go wrong-- and the risks feel pretty mortifying. Want to know my fears? To begin, he might think I'm too over-the-top, dramatic, and wasteful. I am spending quite a lot of money on this dinner (even if it's the most affordable and best-value-option!). Perhaps he might even think I'm trying to buy his love by showering him with all of this wonderfulness! In contrast to how he feels about me, he could also perceive me as being overly-attached and making too much meaning out of our relationship. It's been only 4 months that we're together, and maybe he doesn't see the point of having such a big celebration for such a short courtship so far? He might find me too warm and fuzzy and unrealistic about love and relationships.

There is so much at risk and it is terrifying (but liberating to write it all out!). It's for the reasons that I consider myself love-able and even bordering on being brave! Go, me!

On being liked... romantically.

I can write for days end about being liked, in general.  But this post is not about that.  It's about my tendency to feel absolutely disgusted when I find out that someone likes me, romantically.

Why is that, I wonder?

Why is it that in almost all social settings, I cater to pleasing others and maintaining harmony for the sake of being liked? But then when someone potentially likes me and tries to get close to me, I balk at that possibility and run as far as possible?

In elementary school, one of my best friends developed a crush on me and wrote me a love letter of some sort. He was pretty explicit about liking me, and as soon as I found out, I treated him as though he had some sort of contagious disease.

Similarly, in high school, when a friend asked me to the winter formal and declared his love for me in front of well, everyone, I freaked out and began to avoid him at all costs.

While some people may think this is some sort of diva or princess attitude, I consider that explanation to be much more superficial than the truth.  The complex, complicated, and convoluted reality is actually quite sad and it is the opposite of self-entitlement.

The truth is that whenever someone likes me, I find myself immediately shocked at the possibility that some person in this world has an interest in me.  I cannot fathom why anyone would find me interesting, much less take the next step to pursue me. Instead of feeling flattered, I delve straight into contempt and disgust. What is WRONG with this person that he likes me? Why are his standards so low? What does he see in me that 99.9% of the people don't see? What is wrong with him that he sees good in something (ahem, me) that I see as so bad (again, me)?

The shame is overwhelming, and I hadn't even realized that it was my own self-contempt that blocks my way to happiness.  Why don't I love myself more? Wait, let me take a step back. Why don't I like myself enough to believe that I am likeable, and at some point, even loveable?

These self-reflections are so good for me in my journey of self-exploration and -empowerment. If I don't love myself more than anyone else in this world, then why should someone else?  And if I depend on someone else's affection to validate my self-worth, then who am I on my own? My goals, both now and for the rest of my life, are to love myself, and to find things within me that I can identify with, accept, and come to love.  It's a 3-step process: 1) identify, 2) accept, and 3) love.

First, I must identify who I am, and what I'm all about.
Next, I have to accept all that I am, the good, the bad, the neutral, and the shameful.
Finally, I have to find a way to love it because they are all part of me, whether I like it or not. And far from fighting it, why not embrace it, love it, and believe that the sum is greater than all of its parts? That I, as a person, am good even if there are bad parts?

I think that only when I can love myself more, will I be able to let myself be loved by another person. And just to clarify...  I'm not talking about just any random person. My track-record to date, shows that I keep finding people who are unhealthy themselves validate my existence. So, when I say another person, I'm talking about someone who will also be healthy enough to love me as well as love himself.  Someone whole, someone at peace, and someone that can help me be better in the same way that I can help him be better.

And let's face it, we can't help anyone be better when we're not whole. I can't help anyone.  I can't even help myself when I look to someone else to make me feel whole.

Reclaiming my identity

Instead of feeling humiliated so often, I'm going to title my entries: "Reclaiming my identity".
It sure beats a title like: "Humiliating memories Part I, II, III" don't you think?  So even after I feel a multitude of emotions, I will remind myself that admitting these memories can be a way for me to reclaim my history and my identity. So, here goes.

Memory 1
I drove by B.'s old apartment the other day and was triggered by a memory of us having a BBQ early in the summer, about a month or two before we broke up.  It was a double-date BBQ with his colleague and his colleague's wife.  We had a picnic set up on the grass and were sitting cross-legged on the blanket. I can't remember the details, but either B. or I asked the couple about their story: how they met, how they knew they were made for each other, all that romantic jazz.  The story was cute and funny but I was not able to give them my full attention.  Throughout their story-telling, I kept wondering what we would say when they me and B. about our relationship. I assumed, according to social convention, that they would ask! I thought they'd want to know how we met, what we made us like each other, etc. etc.  I was quite curious to hear what B. would say. I was also preparing myself to say good things about him from when we first met and when I had been swept off my feet.

But they never asked us about our relationship.  It was pretty awkward that they didn't, actually. So it felt quite hurtful.  I assume B. must have talked to his friend about us. He probably told them I am NOT the girl of his dreams and that he does not foresee a long-distance relationship with me.  I envision he made it clear to them that our relationship was not important enough to ask and that I'm not particularly special in his life. After 2 years of dating, you'd think that.  But I just had this feeling that he probably has made it blatantly clear that I'm no one special.

That night, B. and I got in a fight.  I don't remember the content of the fight, but I will never forget what he said.  He referred to his friend's story of how he met his wife and used it to highlight how pitiful he is not to have that with me.  His friend had said that that no matter how stressful work is, how mean his advisors are, or how badly his day is going, seeing his wife at the end of the day makes it all OK. I remember tearing up when he said this because I believe that! I always envisioned relationships to be this way and and I have strived to be like that counterpart for B.

Anyways, when B. and I were fighting, he brought up this point and gave me a woe-is-me story that he doesn't have what his friend has.  He said almost-verbatim: "The whole time I was listening him talk about their relationship and how he feels about his wife, I thought about us and how I don't feel that way about you.  I want that so much, and its sad I don't have that."

I'm pretty sure my heart shattered to pieces when I heard that.

---

When I think back to this conversation with him, I want to literally crawl into a hole and close my eyes forever.  I can't imagine looking in a mirror to see my face because I hate myself for letting him say that to me. I hate myself for being with someone who pities himself and is hurting me simultaneously. He hasn't seen any of the efforts I made to be the best girlfriend ever.  He doesn't care that I have given up so much for him, that I am at his beck-and-call, that I do basically everything for him.  That conversation was brutal.  It was like he carved out my heart with a sharp piece of broken glass.  What kind of boyfriend says that to his girlfriend? That I don't make him happy, that seeing me doesn't bring him contentment? That his life is sad because he met a girl that just doesn't do it for him.

I'm livid with myself for not walking out of that conversation and saying goodbye to him forever at that exact point in time.  I remember thinking that way.  I remember the anger and humiliation at the time, and that anger and humiliation is very pervasive even now.  These feelings are what randomly charge into my life, in the middle of driving down the street, taking a walk, or right before bed.  I hate myself because I couldn't leave him. What happened is that I died a little more on the inside.  During his monologue, I'm sure I cried and I'm sure that he didn't understand why I cried.  Because his impression was that he is the victim because he's not with the woman of his dreams.  So what am I? Something to pass the time?  Looking back, I wish I could have done something crazily dramatic and left.  I envision it would have been violent too, but that really isn't me.  It just hurt so bad, it was so humiliating, and I hate myself for letting him talk to me like that.

Unfortunately, such a conversation is not the first (or last) conversation in which he humiliated me and made me feel like a temporary and deficient object used to pass the time.  It's one of many and it has been popping into my head left and right these days.  It makes me hate him, it makes me hate me, it makes me feel so embarrassed that I want to disappear into a hole forever.

Humiliation

Most of the time, I go about my day feeling fine.  Being productive, being active, enjoying the moment, enjoying my life.  But in random, unpredictable moments when I am triggered by a memory of B. and the relationship, I can explode into tears immediately and not even know why until I sit and process it for a good long while.

I cry because I remember and because I feel humiliated.
I have so many humiliating memories of our relationship. I feel that he has humiliated me to the utmost degree: in front of him, in front of others, and worst of all, in front of myself.  They say that when a man cheats, the wife is usually the last to know.  What that means is that everyone else knows, whispers, wonders, speculates.  The wife becomes a show.  A sad show and maybe even an entertaining show.  That's how I feel.  I feel like my life, over the past 2 years was an objectified show and I never knew it all that time.

Because I was triggered so much by memories of me that feel utterly humiliating, I didn't journal last week. At all.  Not in my handwritten journal, and not online either. Why? Because I couldn't begin to write/type. I felt like putting-it-down-in-writing makes it real.  And at that point, I don't want any of these memories to be real.  I don't want the "me" in that relationship to be real because I don't like her or respect her, and I personally feel embarrassed by her and for her.
I am quite mean to myself, I realize.  And it's because of these reasons that I couldn't write.

Thankfully, I have a wonderful therapist who lets me talk and cry and talk some more.  I don't really have that in my life, and it's rare for me to just sit and talk.  Usually, I let others talk, I fit my conversations into something relevant for others, and I avoid taking up all of the time and attention because it makes me feel like a spotlight-hogger and a narcissist.

But I have so many words and emotions that overwhelm me.  They pour out of me that unintentionally and without my permission. Without my awareness, they seep into my day to day life and they force me to cry. As hard as I try to control all of this, I believe that my body is telling me talk.  Feel. Express.  Let it out somehow.

But I can't guarantee that I'll do this well.  That I'm even doing this surprises me and is a significant challenge for me.  I can't promise to be consistent with this endeavor and I will probably struggle immensely trying to write out the memories/triggers.  But I'll try.