While visiting family the past few weeks, I’ve had some pretty astounding revelations. Now that I’ve left a coercive controlling relationship and see the abusive patterns that populated it, it’s as if there is a spotlight on all the examples of toxicity in my family of origin. Patterns that I never saw before.
The way my father pouts if my stepmom disagrees with him.
The way she caters to his every need and performs to be loved.
The way my mom brushes toxic male behavior aside and blames women for the problems, including her 70-year-old friend who smacked my ass without an invitation.
The way my brothers struggle with repeating these patterns in their own marriages.
No wonder I grew into a people-pleasing, fear-led wife. I’m happy to divorce her.
And, while divorce is expensive because it’s worth it, and I wouldn’t go back, there is a big part of me that wants to be a partner again someday. I want love. I want to give love. I want to care, and be cared for. I want to know someone so deeply that I can order for them at a restaurant and read them like my favorite books.
The trouble is that I don’t know, yet, how to receive that.
I wrote a while ago about MC, my mountainous comedian who waited six months for a second date while I got my head screwed on right. (Or, at least more right than it was.) I had to get myself to a space where I was no longer saying that no one could possibly look at my dumpster fire of a life and think it was a good deal to sign on for. I had to know I was deserving of care, attention, and maybe even love, just because I am.
I’m seeing MC today. It’s been over three weeks since our last date because of my traveling, and I am climbing up a wall. He’s happy to have me go on other dates right now, and, should we decide to make this new exploration into a relationship, he’d want me to have a secondary partner for some extra playtime and attention. The trouble is that the way he talks to me makes me want to climb him, and has made going on other dates uninteresting and annoying. I swear he’s turning me into an absolutely feral creature.
But there’s also something darker surfacing in me, something I don’t like and something I am determined to beat down. MC makes me feel safe. He’s said he’s willing to put in the effort to make a relationship between us work. He’s shown up with that effort consistently via text, phone calls, and when we see one another. He wants to know what I need, know what I want, and when I mention being afraid, he holds steady.
The dark thing? It’s this voice in my head that tells me he’s just pretending. He’s not actually interested. He is just trying to get something out of me. He’s using me. He’s not who he says he is. Men don’t ask how you feel about new experiences, and they certainly don’t want to put in anything resembling work. And men who have built themselves a peaceful existence certainly don’t want to put in work with a single mom who’s terrified of being hurt again. They don’t chase women who ask for space, who need to go slow, and who are so wounded by trauma that kindness makes them weep.
That dark voice sucks. She’s the voice that kept me away from him for six months…and he’s working hard to shut her up. I’m trying to let him.
When I say I’m worried that his peaceful existence doesn’t have space for my pile of kids and me, he tells me that I’m amazing and that he wants to make the space.
When I say I’m scited — a combo of scared and excited that means you have to try the thing — he asks why I’m scared and reminds me he’s there to protect.
When I express nervousness about the hour-and-a-half distance between us and how that works in a relationship, he says he wants me to be greedy. to tell him what I want and need. He wants me to get used to having those needs met.
When I ask for weekly dinner dates, even if my parenting schedule doesn’t allow for visits to one another’s homes, he says, “I like you. You don’t have to sell me.”
When I tell him I like the idea of a relationship with him, but that saying so is terrifying, he asks me to describe what a relationship looks like to me.
“So you can just say ‘me too?” No way.”
Then we trade words that matter to us in a relationship.
He says, “Love. Attention. Loyalty.”
I say, “Consideration, presence, growth.”
Then we talk about the similarities and differences in those words, like the linguistic nerds we are.
When I avoid or deflect a question because I’m afraid of answering it he pulls me back, and then he reminds me that we aren’t in the old pattern.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he prods.
I sigh, “You’re right. I avoided it because I’m scared.”
“Say the thing. It’s safe.”
My family caught me smiling at my phone a time or seven while I visited. I told them I’m seeing someone. My friends know more — they’re my people in everyday life. They know I’m excited about him; they know I‘m scared, that I don’t know what to do with this wild combination of clarity and effort MC is showing up with. They remind me to breathe and enjoy it.
So that’s what I’m going to do. Until the fear creeps in again and I have to remind her to sit the fuck down and tape her mouth shut. I think this is what healing looks like. Healing is weaving a web of new data to prove to your brain and your body that you can be safe with other people.
I’ve always believed that when we’re hurt in relationship, we can only fully heal in relationships as well. We heal by letting ourselves have good experiences to teach our nervous system that other people, and in this case, men people, can be safe.
I’m leaving for my visit to MC’s house as soon as I publish this. I’ve packed a couple of dresses and some athletic wear because I’m not sure what our plans are. I skipped the pajamas because I plan to drape my naked self all over him tonight. And, I left the hairdryer at home so I could fit more sex toys in the bag.
Oh, and I followed his instructions.
I’m wearing a sundress with nothing underneath, and I’ve held off on giving myself an orgasm for far too long. I can’t wait to see what he does to me. For me. With me.
Molly Frances’s writing explores what it means to be human: relationships, families, sexuality, mental health, and growth. When she isn’t writing or working with clients, she’s either on a beach or reading (or both) or dancing with abandon. She lives with her children, a rescue pup, and too many books.
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
Love relationships? We promise to have a good one with your inbox.
Subcribe to get 3x weekly dating and relationship advice.
Did you know? We have 8 publications on Medium. Join us there!
***
–
Photo credit: Sabesh Photography LTD on Unsplash
I really connected with the idea that healing can involve creating new experiences that teach us we are safe with other people. It can be difficult to trust kindness after going through unhealthy relationship patterns, so learning to recognize and accept healthy behavior seems like such an important part of moving forward.