My relationship history often feels like a weight I am loathe to carry. It’s heavy, but I’m used to it. I’ll never quite get used to the sharp edges of it — how they often cut me when I least expect it. Something like this could make me bitter. I know it. I’ve seen glimpses in myself. But I’m choosing to let it make me better instead.
In a moment of complete clarity, I realized that if any lover had truly loved me well, I would have stayed. I’d have stayed in relationships that were so much less than what I needed. My love and loyalty would have bound me more surely than any legal designation or vows. It was only when I found myself mistreated or un-loved that I finally loved myself enough to leave.
Maybe the behavior that hurt me also helped me. It freed me, time and again, to choose myself. It was the push I needed to demand better. I often think that without the push, I might have stayed — discontented but treated just well enough to feel loyal and optimistic about the future.
I won’t be sending out thank you cards, but I wonder how I can learn from these experiences without repeating them. It feels like it’s time to readjust my standards — and perhaps extend my fierce loyalty to myself. What would this look like in practice?
I keep an open heart.
An open heart may seem irrelevant when it comes to learning lessons and being loyal to ourselves first. Our first instinct after heartbreak is likely self-protective. We want to curl up around those soft and hurting places to make sure we are never so vulnerable again. It’s a part of the grieving process, but the healing process requires an open heart.
An open heart is a practice. It’s scary to keep ourselves open when we know that doing so comes with the risk of being hurt. I recently asked someone out on a date — something so far outside my comfort zone that I’ve rarely, if ever, done it. I simply decided that it’s not enough to have a theoretically open heart while keeping myself safe from new experiences. I need to get out in the world — even if it means my heart could be broken again. Otherwise, I’ll be protecting myself from love as well as hurt.
I honor what I see.
My heart is open, but I am honoring — perhaps for the first time — what I see rather than what I want to see. I am no longer engaging with people’s potential, only their reality. I’m listening, and I’m honoring what other people tell me about themselves by believing them without putting a spit-shine and spin on their story. I am also paying attention to their behavior and recognizing what it’s telling me, too.
I love that I have such a fierce and unwavering belief in other people — their beautiful hearts and incredible potential. I love that I want the best for every single person I have ever loved. I’ve learned to recognize that what I want for them and what they want for themselves may be worlds apart.
By paying attention to reality over potential, I am able to see the truth. The truth doesn’t have to smack me on the head to get my attention because I am already observing it. I am paying attention even when what I see doesn’t align with what I wanted to see.
I honor what I want.
I’m not just honoring others. I’m also doing a better job of honoring myself. I know what I want, and I don’t want to settle for anything less. I think sometimes of the lonely relationships I’ve had — especially when I get caught up in the idea that connecting with another person will make me feel less alone. That’s not always true. The wrong person will only make us feel more isolated and lonely. I honor what I want by waiting for it. But I am not waiting idly; I’m crafting a beautiful life for myself.
Honoring what I want also means acknowledging when I have unmet needs. Too often, I’ve felt like I needed too much in relationships. Too much attention, too much love. I never quite realized that in each instance of feeling that lack, there was an honest to goodness scarcity of these factors inside my relationships.
I wasn’t asking for too much. I was asking for basic relationship needs to be met within the context of the relationship. A part of honoring what I want means that it’s no longer acceptable to resign myself to unmet needs within relationships. My wants and needs matter as much as anyone else’s.
I’m honest with myself.
Above all else, I tell myself the truth. I see clearly my own strengths and opportunities, and I’m paying attention to other people, too. I love the beauty of my own imagination, but I also recognize that I need to use it a little less in relationships in order to see the truth of them.
I don’t need to offer myself excuses to stay a little longer in relationships I’ve outgrown. I don’t need to spin a story to make it a touch more palatable. I need to stop swallowing my own discomfort to make everyone around me happier. I need to be unfailingly honest with myself so that I can be honest with others.
I am loyal to myself first.
I love how loyal I’ve always been, but I need some of that loyalty for myself. I shouldn’t have to be hurt every single time to make choices in my own best interest. I need to become a powerful advocate for myself rather than choosing to champion partners at my own expense.
Sometimes, I got just enough affection to stay. Just enough attention. Just enough consideration. It felt like getting just enough to settle ruffled feathers and keep me there but not enough to truly soothe the needs beneath them. I don’t want to live like that anymore.
Sometimes, it makes me sad that I’ve learned so many of life’s lessons the hard way. Then, I have moments when I see the whole of my life clearly and feel thankful that things worked out the way they did — even if it wasn’t what I would have chosen at the time. I know what it feels like to reach a breaking point, but I woke up today oddly thankful for the experience. I can’t say I’m grateful for the hurt, but I’m grateful that it propelled me out of my complacency.
It made me choose myself. It helped me love myself better. It just might prevent me from going down that same road again in the future.
My relationship history, with all its sharp edges and heavy baggage, has had much to teach me. I’m getting better, not bitter. My heart is open. I’m learning to honor what I see as well as what I want. I’m honest with — and loyal to — myself.
I look back and see each hurt as an opportunity — although it never felt that way at the time. If he’d loved me better, I might have stayed. From where I’m sitting now, I can see that not being loved enough felt like the worst thing. But the worst thing would have been staying and settling for just enough love when I wanted it all.
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Previously Published on medium
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