The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.
"The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you." -David Foster Wallace
I've spent a lot of time the past 6 months avoiding feeling the pain and processing the events and circumstances in my first long-term relationship; primarily, looking inwards at myself instead of casting blame outwards. I just watched the movie "Ruby Sparks," which was more relatable than I care to admit. Okay, I'll admit it, it was like looking in a mirror at certain points. The main character is an adept writer (please don't think I'm saying this about myself, my ego is not that big. I'm just explaining plot, here.) who wrote a beloved novel for all generations. He is clearly anguishing over the pressure of his success, a failed relationship, and issues with his family. Unable to start on a book, he eventually is struck by these dreams of this beautiful, sympathetic girl named Ruby. To condense the synopsis, he ends up bringing her to life, only to find out this ideal fantasy girl he's created in his head isn't sustainable--quite literally, she doesn't exist. She ends up straying in the end and seeks her own autonomy. The protagonist traps her in a smothering love that only wants to take, never give. He wants her to always be how HE wants her without any deviation. He basically wants a girl in the honeymoon phase to somehow live in that phase like it's "Groundhog Day"; repeating the same heightened sense of love every day without fail.
Now, I used to obsessively watch Garden State when I was younger and that movie admittedly gave me unrealistic expectations for what women are actually like in real life. If you weren't Natalie Portman quirky, you weren't "the one." Skipping ahead, Nikeya and I worked as long as we did because we both had unrealistic expectations of the other person. Not to talk too long about how she viewed me because I can't be exact, but one thing she loved about me in the beginning was how romantic I am. The constant flowers, presents, etc., was something she came to expect and even demanded at times. When I did not do something unexpectedly sweet in a time-frame she deemed acceptable, she'd question our relationship and make me feel bad about not making her feel special or giving her this fantastic love she felt like she deserved. She wanted me to be this ideal, romantic movie character that I wasn't. But I wanted her to be this magical creature who catered to me and loved only me. If she ever started to stray or we had a fight (we had the same fights A LOT), I'd apologize profusely and promise to change... but I never did. What we fought over were issues that should have ended us right there, but I was too afraid to be alone. I didn't know who I was going to be without her. I wanted to believe that she saw me, but the truth is, I didn't even see myself. If I couldn't see me, how could this person who I just met see me? She couldn't. She couldn't, but I let her believe she could. I let her believe that whatever she saw was who I was. I let her project her fantasies onto me, and in return, I projected my fantasies onto her. I wanted her to be this ambitious, care-free hippy girl who had strong convictions and knew where she was going in life. Anything contrary to that idea, I simply ignored or pretended would change. Reality had no meaning for me at that point. The only thing that mattered was that she was there and she listened to me. She did that for awhile. I did all the romantic stuff she wanted me to do... for awhile. I wanted someone to be a witness to the pain I was feeling and what I was trying to process at that time--mainly stuff with my parents and other family members. She was there for me when I really came to terms with my mother's alcoholism. She was there to help strengthen the relationship I had with my dad and bring us closer. She was there to prove to my extended family that no, I am not gay (apparently if you look like a Portland hipster in a conservative Catholic family, people assume you're gay. Welcome to the South.). We both had a lot we needed to get over and deal with. Her past relationships were with really horrible guys who treated her poorly. My past relationships were mainly in my head. We both needed something the other provided, even if it was going to turn toxic.
Regardless of what happened in my relationship, how I acted or how she acted, we both got ourselves to Portland. A city where I feel like I am starting to do actual healing. I've allowed myself to start feeling the pain, letting it pass through me, and then letting it go. I've started realizing where I've made mistakes and how I can grow from them. I've realized that it's okay that I didn't know what I was doing; people rarely often do. I was in a relationship for 2 years, which is 1 year and 10 months longer than any relationship I had in the past. There is still a lot to process and a lot of meaning to be found in what I've learned. This is enough for right now, though.
Goodnight, World.
I've spent a lot of time the past 6 months avoiding feeling the pain and processing the events and circumstances in my first long-term relationship; primarily, looking inwards at myself instead of casting blame outwards. I just watched the movie "Ruby Sparks," which was more relatable than I care to admit. Okay, I'll admit it, it was like looking in a mirror at certain points. The main character is an adept writer (please don't think I'm saying this about myself, my ego is not that big. I'm just explaining plot, here.) who wrote a beloved novel for all generations. He is clearly anguishing over the pressure of his success, a failed relationship, and issues with his family. Unable to start on a book, he eventually is struck by these dreams of this beautiful, sympathetic girl named Ruby. To condense the synopsis, he ends up bringing her to life, only to find out this ideal fantasy girl he's created in his head isn't sustainable--quite literally, she doesn't exist. She ends up straying in the end and seeks her own autonomy. The protagonist traps her in a smothering love that only wants to take, never give. He wants her to always be how HE wants her without any deviation. He basically wants a girl in the honeymoon phase to somehow live in that phase like it's "Groundhog Day"; repeating the same heightened sense of love every day without fail.
Now, I used to obsessively watch Garden State when I was younger and that movie admittedly gave me unrealistic expectations for what women are actually like in real life. If you weren't Natalie Portman quirky, you weren't "the one." Skipping ahead, Nikeya and I worked as long as we did because we both had unrealistic expectations of the other person. Not to talk too long about how she viewed me because I can't be exact, but one thing she loved about me in the beginning was how romantic I am. The constant flowers, presents, etc., was something she came to expect and even demanded at times. When I did not do something unexpectedly sweet in a time-frame she deemed acceptable, she'd question our relationship and make me feel bad about not making her feel special or giving her this fantastic love she felt like she deserved. She wanted me to be this ideal, romantic movie character that I wasn't. But I wanted her to be this magical creature who catered to me and loved only me. If she ever started to stray or we had a fight (we had the same fights A LOT), I'd apologize profusely and promise to change... but I never did. What we fought over were issues that should have ended us right there, but I was too afraid to be alone. I didn't know who I was going to be without her. I wanted to believe that she saw me, but the truth is, I didn't even see myself. If I couldn't see me, how could this person who I just met see me? She couldn't. She couldn't, but I let her believe she could. I let her believe that whatever she saw was who I was. I let her project her fantasies onto me, and in return, I projected my fantasies onto her. I wanted her to be this ambitious, care-free hippy girl who had strong convictions and knew where she was going in life. Anything contrary to that idea, I simply ignored or pretended would change. Reality had no meaning for me at that point. The only thing that mattered was that she was there and she listened to me. She did that for awhile. I did all the romantic stuff she wanted me to do... for awhile. I wanted someone to be a witness to the pain I was feeling and what I was trying to process at that time--mainly stuff with my parents and other family members. She was there for me when I really came to terms with my mother's alcoholism. She was there to help strengthen the relationship I had with my dad and bring us closer. She was there to prove to my extended family that no, I am not gay (apparently if you look like a Portland hipster in a conservative Catholic family, people assume you're gay. Welcome to the South.). We both had a lot we needed to get over and deal with. Her past relationships were with really horrible guys who treated her poorly. My past relationships were mainly in my head. We both needed something the other provided, even if it was going to turn toxic.
Regardless of what happened in my relationship, how I acted or how she acted, we both got ourselves to Portland. A city where I feel like I am starting to do actual healing. I've allowed myself to start feeling the pain, letting it pass through me, and then letting it go. I've started realizing where I've made mistakes and how I can grow from them. I've realized that it's okay that I didn't know what I was doing; people rarely often do. I was in a relationship for 2 years, which is 1 year and 10 months longer than any relationship I had in the past. There is still a lot to process and a lot of meaning to be found in what I've learned. This is enough for right now, though.
Goodnight, World.
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