No Man’s Land
I read recently that “tradition is not the worship of ashes but the preservation of fire”. Make of that what you will but I think Gustav Malher has a point. Every year my family and I write letters to our future selves once we put down our christmas tree ( which is no mean task I tell you). We write these letters- a mixture of prediction and reflection- so that we can read them when we put the tree back up once Christmas rolls round again. Who knows how the tradition started or how long it’s been going on for but it is something I have come to treasure about being at home, with my family.
Every year, I swear that I will remember what I wrote. How could I not? The thoughts and feelings I expressed were so fresh and personal, like they would last a lifetime. As you might have guessed, they don’t. When I sat down at Christmas to read my letter from the previous year, I thought I knew what to expect. I knew that this time last year I was incredibly low- arguably my lowest. That letter was written post-diagnosis, pre-blog in a very aimless period of my life. I would never have described myself as aimless before. I always had a plan, a goal or something to achieve. Once I reached the finish line of one thing, I would find a new project and so the cycle would continue and for a while it worked.. Yet, basing your life in such a way which relies on the success of one project to fuel the next is problematic at best since it requires that you always succeed. Something that you and I know is never guaranteed. The first time you “fail” at something, the chain is broken and you are back at the beginning, fumbling to create a new foundation.
With the fear of oversimplifying or sounding cold, my relationship with my ex was like one of those projects in a way that no relationship before had been. I don’t necessarily mean that it was hard work which for the record, it definitely was. I took on my ex’s happiness as my own responsibility. As inevitable as Titanic hitting the Iceberg, that relationship sank into cold, inhospitable waters because I made my project something I couldn’t control. People have told me in the past, you can’t make people happy but I’m not sure I really heard them until that relationship ended. In the time that has passed, I’ve often wondered if it was so hard to get over simply because it was my first love or if it was more the lack of control I had over the situation that it felt more like a project that I had failed at.
Over the last year, it’s something that I have talked very openly throughout my blog posts and attempts to explore how I was feeling. It’s important to remember that those posts are my edited, refined thoughts that are often scrapped and rewritten several times. They are by no means my initial thoughts and feelings as personal as they might feel. They are the processed, carefully filtered version of very raw and sometimes painful emotions. Unsurprisingly, that letter was the uncut draft of what would go on to make up several blog posts and it didn’t make easy reading. There were certain sentences, feelings that obviously resonated with me and found their way into future, public pieces but for the most part, this letter was a portal into my mindset at the time, something reserved for just me to read. It noted how difficult the year had been, how much I had gone through and how much I needed to work on. I wasn’t afraid to tell myself some harsh realities, warning myself to find out what I wanted to do with my life and work my hardest to achieve whatever that was. When I read the ending, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You better not be in a relationship or you better be really really happy”
It wasn’t exactly a resolution that I had made or anything, probably why it actually worked. I took a year off from boys and all the drama that inevitably comes with them. I’m not saying I didn’t dabble with dating apps or anything but I refused to let anything come of it. I knew I wasn’t ready to take that on again and frankly, it’s why 2019 was the happiest year of my life so far. Instead of focusing on and creating projects that I couldn’t control, I invested my time into things that reinforced my confidence and self-esteem. I guess it’s just the idea of working on yourself, something we all say we need to do but never have.
It’s like comedian Katherine Ryan says, “don’t go shopping when you’re hungry and don’t look for a boyfriend when you are thirsty”. Jokes aside, the sentiment is true. Happy people attract healthy partners who then build enriching relationships.
People often tell you to date as soon as you can after a break up: “get back on the horse”, “get him out of your system” , “you need a rebound” and if that works for you, then I’m all for it. The problem is, that just isn’t me. Or so I found out. After a few dates with a couple of lovely guys at the end of 2018, I just knew that I neither wanted the effort or vulnerability that comes with a relationship. I’ve written in a previous blog post about People Pleasing, a habit that I have picked up over the years and it couldn’t ring more true here. For years, I had prioritised the happiness of others above my own and I’m not really sure where it has got me. Certainly not happy. Einstein did say that that is the real definition of insanity after all; doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So, in 2019 I tried something different.
Now, I might be still obsessing about 1917 a little too much, hence the title but my no man’s land is not the life-threatening, foresaken place that history might expect it to be. You just need to look at Emma Watson embracing the term ‘self-partnered’ theory to see how empowering being single actually is. For the first time in my life, I am making decisions that are centred around how I feel and what I want to do. Sure, like anyone, I miss being in a relationship from time to time but not enough to give up the confidence and independence that I’ve gained from single life. I don’t crave someone’s approval the way I used to, I only truly ever need my own and that’s not a lesson anyone can teach you but yourself.
I opened this post with a quote by Gustav Mahler but didn’t really get to the point of why. Typical, I left you waiting until the end. Some might say that writing these letters are holding on to a past that is already gone and they’re not wrong. It’s not as if I can go back and tell 2019 Becca that everything is going to be okay. She’s going to have to find that out on her own. Yet, I still think that writing those letters mean something. They preserve those very real feelings for a while, they keep their memory alive a little longer and they keep me moving, inspiring me to look forward. I don’t see those letters as looking back at the ashes of the past, the remnants of a girl I don’t recognise anymore. I see them as keeping her alive, remembering and promising her that I want to make each year better than the one before.
And for now at least, no man’s land is exactly where I am supposed to be.
