Last summer, I was sipping wine with a friend as we discussed our writing goals for the rest of the year.
"You talk about love a lot on your page."
Her comment surprised me. I didn't think I wrote about love often, but I realized she was right.
I've shared this before, but if you're new here, my self-love journey started after I left an emotionally abusive relationship. I felt defeated and knew something in my life needed to change. I couldn't figure out why my dating life sucked. The three relationships I was in prior were chaotic and dysfunctional too. I was the common denominator. I was the problem.
So, I went on a quest to figure out what was wrong with me and learn how to love myself more. I thought it was a foolproof plan, but the deeper I dug, the more I realized my issues with romantic love were going to take me years to fix.
It was hard for me to accept this, but I put romantic love on a pedestal—it started in childhood. Whenever things got hard at home, I'd take a deep breath and tell myself that I'd have a family of my own one day—a typical loving family. My vision, fear of rejection, childhood conditioning, poor self-esteem, and uncanny ability to abandon myself in hopes that someone would choose me created a dangerous situation.
But I was determined to fix it. I stopped looking for love and started focusing on myself. It was hard but I loved myself more, made better decisions, and had stronger boundaries. I messed up and took a few L's here and there but nothing I couldn't forgive myself for. Things were looking up, and in 2020 I found a dope person. It went exactly how the internet quotes and memes said It would.
"Love will find you when you're not looking for it, ladies!"
We got along well—refreshingly well. For the most part, it was easy. At times, he got on my nerves, and I got on his, but it wasn't a dealbreaker—It was work, but it wasn't hard. I was being myself and wasn't pretending to be someone I thought he'd prefer, so he'd pick me. We both wanted to be married, so he asked that we have essential conversations about common marriage dealbreakers. It was going so well until he started being weird.
He started finding ways to sabotage our peaceful situation (his admission, not my perception). One morning, after a tense conversation, I asked for some space because his inability to be decisive about the next step in our situation made me anxious. I was getting ready to go back to NY for my friend's b-day, so it was perfect timing.
As they say, "Girls just want to have fun!" so I tried my best to put the drama behind me and live. While I was there, I met this guy. We were flirting, it was cute. But he realized that my mind was somewhere else and asked me if I wanted to share. I declined but he was persistent, more persistent than I was expecting. So, I told him everything. I poured my heart out to a stranger I met at the club who was now lying adjacent to me on a bed in my Airbnb. I was down bad. Once I finished, I faced him and asked, "So, what did I do wrong? Be honest."
He laughed, "You didn't do anything wrong."
"So, where did I go wrong?"
"Listen. You didn't do anything wrong. Are you annoying? Possibly. Are you controlling? Slightly. But you're attempting to control things, so things don't go wrong—I watched you do it downstairs with your friends. You're not a bad person. There's nothing wrong with you. Your biggest issue is that you're trying to control something you have no control over. No matter what you do, you can't make that guy commit—he's likely not."
He was right. When I got back to Maryland, the guy I was dating told me he couldn't commit. I was being rejected and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I thanked him for his honesty, hung up the phone, and cried.
After spending two days crying, I went for a walk at the monuments to clear my head. I did everything they say you're supposed to do for love to magically appear in your life, and it still didn't work. I was sad but I was also proud of myself. During my last conversation with that guy, he said, "there's nothing wrong with you. I like you. I like us. I can see myself being with you, and it would be great. I just don't want to commit. I'm just not ready and I don't know why I'm not. Maybe it's just easier for women to be sure? I read an article on it."
I could have continued blaming myself and kept trying to figure out where I went wrong. I could have told myself that he was lying and attempting to spare my feelings with the "it's not you, it's me talk", but I didn't. I accepted the truth. It wasn't me; it was him. There was nothing I could do about it. And eventually, practicing self-compassion helped me feel free from the burden of believing I was fundamentally flawed and difficult to love.
Do I have issues? Yes. But there is nothing wrong with me. There were so many times in past relationships that I allowed people's bullshit to make me question myself. Where I let the fear of rejection push me to work harder to earn someone's love. Where I fought to prove that I was worth keeping around. Where I abandoned pieces of myself to become the person someone wanted. Where I confused my desire to survive someone's poor treatment as love. Where I believed if I unconditionally accepted someone's flaws, they'd see value in me. Where I trusted someone's words more than their action and my instincts. Where I just knew if I sacrificed just a bit more, things would work out. Where people were emotionally running away from me and I kept chasing them. Where I over-romanticized and intellectualized impossible situations.
I was doing too much. I was trying too hard. But when you walk into a situation believing that something is fundamentally wrong with you, you'll do anything. When you think being chosen by someone is the answer to feeling unworthy and unlovable, you'll try anything.
My desire to work on myself to have a long-lasting romantic partnership is gone. I’m done looking for refuge and validation in someone's ability to look at me and say, "she's it." These days I’m healing to lean into ease, joy, and peace. I am enough. Someone is going to accept me for who I am. No forcing, no begging.
The voids I gained in childhood can't be fixed in a romantic relationship. That's a heavy weight to ask someone to carry. It's also too much hope and healing to wrap up in a situation out of my control. Anything that involves another person is a risk. Relationships (monogamous ones) are maintained because someone is willing and happy to stand with you and meet you where you are. Relationships work best when standing together doesn't impede your ability to thrive when you're alone. Either way, it's a choice. And it's a choice I want to know someone is happy to make because they want to experience life together. Not one someone is making because they feel obliged, guilty, pressured, stuck, or need something to do to pass the time.
Across my Instagram timeline and in real life good people are being loved well. They’re being loved abundantly. I’m happy for them and their joy gives me hope. If I'm meant to be partnered romantically, it will happen for me. Until then, I'm going to enjoy spending time with myself and celebrate the non-romantic love I’m given daily.
-E