I experienced my first heartbreak in 2nd grade. To set the scene, the year was ’97. Information was passed through origami-style notes and a game of Telephone. Someone blabbed to my crush that I liked him. A friend was exposed for liking him too. I imagine a note passed between the three of us to determine our fate. Would he check the box professing his love for me or what?
Being the kind soul that he was, my crush couldn’t bear to choose who he liked more. And so, it was decided my friend and I would compete for his affection.
I vaguely recall bringing him snacks as tribute then running an obstacle course during lunch. Please note, I am not now nor have I ever been a runner. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking God got distracted when time came to add athleticism to my DNA. So now I’m freaking out because I not only agreed to compete for a boy, but I also signed up for potential humiliation in front of the whole class.
Leading up to lunch, a feeling of dread settled cozily in the pit of my stomach. Not being chosen was my first taste of rejection, and looking back, having to prove myself worthy of my crush was already a form of defeat.
. . .
Decades later, I continued to make the same mistake of performing for love. Extreme measures include pulling up to homes unannounced and shelling out thousands of my hard-earned cash. In the end, each romance ended the same. My exes went on to live happily ever after while I poured out my heart and tear ducts wondering where things went wrong.
Full disclosure: I’m ready to admit that I was part of the problem.
It all started when I was young. Growing up, I was groomed to earn love, not receive it.
When relatives rejected my parents, I resisted being anything like them. When friends’ parents complimented me in front of their kids, I maintained the position of responsible friend. These performances started so long ago, it’s been hard to decipher which parts of me are real verses which parts are coerced.
Until recently, I’ve spent so much time trying to avoid being unlovable that I rarely let anyone in or retreated from their toxic ways. But now I’m tired and I’m wiser and I’m over it. I’m ready for something real.
Here are a few actions I’m taking to stop performing for love.
I’m removing the mask
Little by little, I’m opening up to myself. I’m questioning my actions and thoughts. I’m acknowledging my mess. I’m even testing my new-found self with those closest to me. It’s been interesting and uncomfortable but I can already see the growth.
I’m acknowledging the signs
Receiving healthy love takes vulnerability, not foolishness. So now I’m no longer excusing manipulative or questionable behavior from myself or others. At the first sense of familiarity to a trigger or an ex, I’m on alert to decide my next move.
I’m reaching out for help
I’ve been educating myself about boundaries and cycles and codependency. I even signed up for my first therapy session which was actually pretty cool. My therapist let me talk a lot which makes me a tad nervous because word vomit is a scary thing. Talking freely makes me feel so exposed. But vulnerability is part of healing, and healing’s definitely my end goal.
. . .
In case you’re wondering about the 2nd grade race for love, ya girl won! *hair flip* And in proper grade school fashion, my crush and I walked off into the proverbial sunset hand-in-hand. We would go on to date for a solid week, which was pretty standard for the time. It’s all good though. i know better now. No more jumping through hoops for love for me.
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This post was previously published on Hello, Love.
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Photo credit: nappy.co