This will be another one of my rare (but increasingly frequent) posts wherein I bare some things I typically keep pretty close to the vest. Everyone ready?
A couple of things happened this week that have really got me thinking about where I’m at these days — emotionally, I mean. The first was a really fantastic conversation I had Wednesday night with a new friend. Nothing specific was said in that conversation to inspire this train of thought, but I can imagine a future conversation wherein the things I’m about to say might be germane.
Then on Friday, I was accused of several things that set me on the defensive, even though I tried very hard to resist being pulled into another pointless argument with someone who CLEARLY sees the world in very, very different light than I do. But the things that were said sent me down a path of introspection, and what you’re about to read is the result.
For some time now, I’ve been operating under the assumption that the openness to new experiences I’ve felt recently has been a direct result of the comfort level I’ve felt with the new people in my life, new friends who have seen through the good-girl facade most of the world seems to think is an accurate representation of who I am at my core. To be sure, I certainly am a good person, but there is so much more to me than just that, and in my lifetime, precious few people have been around when the other parts of me bubble up. That those parts have been making frequent and prominent appearances of late has, to me, seemed to be a direct consequence of the company I’ve been keeping.
But I no longer feel this way. In fact, if anything, I feel exactly the opposite; I now know that the change has been entirely mine in the making.
Let me explain.
One of the accusations tossed out Friday was that I spent the last year of my marriage trying to make my ex miserable while I tried to make myself feel better. Whether the two were meant to be causally linked is a question I’ll never be able to answer. Nevertheless, it is certainly the case that, in order to feel strong enough to emancipate myself from that situation, I definitely did undertake a series of efforts to try to bolster my self-esteem. One of the first moves I made was starting to work out again; I hopped on the elliptical machine with renewed vigor, the likes of which I hadn’t felt since the early days of our relationship, because I knew that working out always makes me feel better about myself, as though I’m in charge of my destiny and doing what I need to do to take care of myself. That’s an incredibly empowering feeling for me.
Another thing I did, to try to boost my confidence and inner resolve and strength, was reach out to some old friends. There were two people in particular who became (whether they realize(d) it or not) instrumental in helping me rebuild my self-image and remind myself of the things that I like about myself. One of the lessons I learned, from our attempt at couples therapy, is that I’m the kind of person who needs more-than-average amounts of positive (verbal) affirmation in order to feel loved, and reaching out to people who love me unconditionally was instrumental in my finding the courage to stand up.
And that’s the thing. Leaving the relationship was me standing up and demanding more for myself. I know that the relationship didn’t get bad on its own and I accept that I contributed to its demise — I genuinely believe that there are a number of things I should have and could have done differently along the way, and that I was just as much to blame for how things evolved over the four years of the relationship. Nevertheless, when the relationship became toxic, my self esteem had taken such a beating that I couldn’t step back far enough to recognize all the physical and emotional manifestations of the negativity. It was only when I began to reorient my priorities and demand better for myself, FROM myself, that I was able to recognize the situation for what it had become.
At any rate, leaving was hard — most of the time, I made it look easy, but it never was. Yes, I felt proud of myself, but I was also soul-crushingly lonely. There was a week in there where I honestly felt suffocated by the loneliness; incidentally, that was also the week I dropped everything and ran home early for Christmas, to surround myself with family and try to rehabilitate my ability to cope with alone time. (Family, amazingly enough, always seems to deepen my appreciation for being alone. haha) It worked.
So now I’m in this very new place, emotionally speaking. Leaving the marriage and facing down the soul-crushing loneliness (to say nothing of the deep, unexpected, and pointless heartbreak I suffered in early December, sheesh) has given me a kind of inner strength heretofore unknown to me. I have always known that I’m stronger than I think I am, but rarely is the depth of that strength tested as it has been these last six months.
Knowing what I’ve come through, knowing how I’ve handled it? I’m proud of myself, and I’m not ashamed to admit that out loud. What’s more, feeling once again in control of my physical self, feeling my effervescence return, has me feeling lighter, both physically and emotionally, in a way I haven’t experienced in five years. It would be difficult to overstate how happy I am with myself and how happy I am with how I’ve navigated what has surely been one of the most difficult challenges I’ve ever faced. I cannot regret anything that happened, not even the arc of the relationship, because it has made me who I am. I’m stronger, I’ve learned an awful lot about myself and what I need and want from a romantic relationship, and I’ve learned that I cannot, and will not, undersell myself, not ever again.
That kind of lesson is invaluable, and it’s one I’m grateful for (yes, I said *grateful*).
{Incidentally, I want to acknowledge that I know this post will have engendered hurt feelings, anger, and resentment, and I apologize for that.}