When I met my girlfriend, I was coming up on a faint, slow realization that the way I was existing was awry. I was isolated, rarely saw friends and was frequently unavailable for any sort of catch-up with my family.
Days blurred, my screen time skyrocketed, I was mentally exhausted and the only places I ever went were the gym and work. I didn’t have the language to explain to my friends and family, that yes, I saw their calls and texts, but it was impossible to pick up the phone.
On a whim during one of the less restrictive periods of the pandemic, I attended a games night where I met her and accelerated the journey of unraveling silent doctrines.
I had been on a journey of understanding myself and had passed the threshold where subconsciously I was open to changing. I went to therapy in college purely out of serendipity and it was magical in that it was the first time I had a framework to make sense of the bundle of nerves, insecurities and anxieties I had been carrying.
I had friends, but it never felt like anyone really knew me, I kept them at arm„s length both purposefully and unintentionally and enjoyed the detachment I had.
A part of me revelled in it–no one could hurt me; I was safe and I could always pick up and leave.
But real safety is in intimacy, being seen, being loved and belonging. I describe meeting her as walking into a room which is sunlit, well-ventilated and the difficulty of returning to your cold, dark and mouldy room.
It was clear that I couldn„t keep living there and, if I wanted to be with her, I needed to stop with the nonsense and just be myself.
But who was I? I was confused.
That’s the problem with hiding from others“you find that you„ve become elusive to yourself as well.
I knew what I didn„t want to be anymore“distant, alone, cynical“but the positive version had not materialized.
A year after we met, I went back to therapy. In my first consultation, after I reeled off a really long spiel when the therapist asked why I was here, she went quiet and responded, “you want to be more alive”.
How simple and nice it is to be alive. To live!
It’s been a couple years now and there are so many ways in which I„m different.
I used to be so self-aware, I used to be proud of how good I was at remembering conversations, hyper-tuned to what and how I or anyone said anything. If anything said was embarrassing or uncool (read: vulnerable), it would replay in my head constantly.
Now I love freely. I don’t remember conversations or worry about saying too much or the wrong thing. I try to communicate how I feel as best as I can in the moment, try again if need be but then life goes on.
I can’t tell you word for word what happened in a conversation anymore, but I can tell you how I felt. What a much better place to live, in a ray of mostly good feelings/intentions with others than in overthinking, cynicism and questioning.
The journey hasn’t been easy and there are still ways to go. I still go silent sometimes unable to describe what I’m feeling and why it hurts. I still throw tantrums and sulk and when I feel shitty at having behaved badly (sorry to my girlfriend!).
I try to remember how awkward it felt opening up to my people, how the words in my mouth felt like anothers and how worried I was of being taken advantage of or worse rejected.
Regular practice, past the awkwardness, has led to a different space.
All of it was worth it to stand here knowing I am loved and the people I love know how deeply I love them“priceless.
Leave a Reply