Lessons

Anonymous

Looking through my old iPhone notes I found a message I wrote 3 days before I was broken up with: “Never known a love bigger than you.” Yikes. 

You know, there’s a lot they don’t tell you about dating an alcoholic. Well, when I say “they” I am referring to myself, because I’m too stubborn to actually take relationship advice from others. Even writing the word "stubborn" is challenging, I secretly believe I am right to this day. But finding a source to blame is comforting. Also, to be fair, labeling him an alcoholic is aggressive. Let me rephrase... there’s a lot I don’t tell myself about dating anyone. 

So, here we go. The story. We met, we fell in disgusting stay-up-til-5-am-every-night-for-the-first-3-weeks love, created an unhealthy dependency, fought (a lot), and broke up after a year. Hm, is that how it went? What actually happened? What the hell happened? I have no idea how to sum up this portion of my life. I’m lost. 

Let’s try this. Looking at the relationship from a feminist perspective, I’d say it was fraught with unaddressed gender roles. I entered the romance as an independent girl who appreciated balance. Or so I thought, because this quickly changed when he shared his needs: he needed more, much more than what I offered from the start. The needs especially amped up when he made the decision to go sober, in a dramatic tear-filled moment in New York after a 4-day bender (this trip, by the way, was characterized by spending $1000 and not entering a single art museum... amateurs). From this point on, the romance began to evolve into a different type of relationship. One in which I played the role of a caretaker. Not like a mom and child relationship, pshh that’s weird, but no... yea, not far from a mom-child relationship. I checked in on him, frequently: 

“Did you drink enough water today?”

“Did you eat today?”

“Did you take your meds?”

“Are you going to go to your meeting?”

“Did you go to your meeting?”

“What do you need?”

“How are you doing?”

“How are you doing?”

“How are you doing?”

The relationship changed from fun-loving to serious commitment. I was seriously committed to fulfilling his needs. And I’d say he milked that shit. He even had the audacity to call me selfish. Me?! Selfish?! No, this was a classic case of a woman stepping into a motherly role for the sake of a man’s happiness. 

I mean, I wish it was that simple. Trust me, I really do, because I spent a long time thinking that’s exactly what happened: “It was some bullshit, he took advantage of me, it sucks, but it’s alright. Let’s play some Dua and go out yaaaaaaaaaaas.” But, no, that’s not a (completely) fair depiction of the relationship. Anyone can see that’s a narrow view, and plus, I’m a feminist so I’m smarter than that. 

Another way to look at the demise of the relationship is by considering the ways we had self-destructive behaviors and a flair for the dramatic. He was guilty of accusing me of lying, cheating, obscuring, all of the above. I was guilty of adding fuel to the fire, giving in to his childish ways. For the record, I DID NOT CHEAT ARE YOU LITERALLY CRAZY?! We were (/are) young, our emotional intelligence wasn’t always on par, and it showed in our fights. By the end, a fight was so emotionally debilitating I could not function if I could sense he was angry with me. I stayed with him, even though anxiety was so tightly wound up with our love. I had committed so hard, I truly did not imagine us ending. Maybe I even liked focusing on his problems so I didn’t have to face my own mental health issues. Ah, self-destruction works in mysterious ways. 

The alcoholism no doubt played a part in the challenges of the relationship. Lots and lots of ups and downs. Lots. 

I could consider the sex life, definitely interesting...

Or, how did our childhood abandonment issues influence our relationship?

Maybe I should think about my flaws (ha!). It should be known, I really loved him. I’d never felt so open to giving to anyone. I wanted to give so much to him. I wanted to make sacrifices. It gave me joy, to see him happy... because of me? Am I that fucked up? I guess I am a Scorpio.

Seriously though, I was half the relationship, I was half to blame. When I told my first boyfriend about this relationship, he said “Well, you did this to yourself.” And that was the first time someone prompted me to consider how I had contributed to this shit show. Damn he's good. 

So. Yea. I tried to pack this chapter of my life into a cute little box with perfect little warning notes written on top. But I can’t. I can’t. I don’t understand relationships. What did I learn from this relationship? What are my life lessons that I’ll tell my kids? How do I create the best pop song ever heard from the shambles of my life?! Ugh. 

All I know is this. 

We don’t talk. I wish him the best.