I Used To Think A Relationship Would Make Me Whole — Being Assaulted Changed My Mind
I went from chasing love to avoiding it.
As a child, I used to think the highest, realest form of love was romantic love, as many of us do. And seeing my parents embody a love that was borne out of necessity and practicality, not passion, I would watch fairytale unions and Disney romances and idolize ‘one true love’- the person out there who would make me, and my life, complete.
I spent my teenage years yearning for this love. It would be the panacea to all of my problems, but also a milestone I had to wait for, for my life to begin- begin. All of the experiences and things I wanted were lying in wait for me, hazy and indiscriminate, behind the gates of the exclusive club of being in love. I was raised to be frugal, restrained, to question every desire with “Can I survive without this, and if so, do I need it?” by ex-Communist parents who wore their clothes through to tatters.
I didn’t need the second coat, or the new necklace, or to go to the movies, because even though I wanted it, I could survive without it. But being in love would change that. It would prove I was special and deserving- because I was enough to be someone’s one and only, to take a spot in their lives that no one else could. And I would have a reason to indulge in the more expensive dessert, book the nicer hotel room, or drive to the beach for no reason because those were things that couples just did.
So wanting a relationship became more than a yearning for romantic love, but a yearning to be worthy of my desires, whether material or experiential. I’d only need a new phone when I had a boyfriend- because his messages would look prettier on a newer, shinier screen. I didn’t need the new dress, or the pretty heels, because I’d wait until I could wear them on date night. I’d walk past a dessert shop, eyeing the pretty cakes in the window, and tell myself I could wait until I had someone to share them with.
All this suppression denial and self-restriction became my version of normal, with my future relationship being the nirvana that would set me free. There would be life before I was in love and life after love.
Then, I got into a relationship, right when I turned 20. It was rosy-eyed and adoring and consuming, and just as blissful as I expected it to be at first. I did indulge in more dinners and more desserts. I went out on weekends, and we spent money on nice things together, and sometimes for our date nights I’d dress up. But as wonderful, as loving as the relationship was, it didn’t fix me.
It was a safety net, but it didn’t fill the gaping hole of anxiety and emptiness deep within me. It made me more confident, more secure, less lonely- but it didn’t make me love myself unequivocally like I thought it would. I would still look in the mirror and sigh, have bad days, wish I was someone else- now with the added balancing act of transforming a feeling, love, into a tangible, working relationship with another flawed human being.
A few years later, we broke up. Broken-hearted and vulnerable, I got into a casual relationship with a friend of a friend. I ignored our differences, our massive imbalance in libido, and his sexist views minimizing domestic assault and female safety. I was desperately trying to replicate the feeling of being in love, anywhere I could find it.
And then he sexually assaulted me. He penetrated me, without my consent. And it shattered me. For the first time in my life, I had to contend with the fact that the person you love can also cause you unimaginable pain. For the first time in my life, the thought of being in love, of being in a relationship, repulsed me.
I started therapy- and one day, I told my therapist about this perpetual state of waiting for someone. I told her about how the desire to find a partner had taken on a higher meaning for me because it felt like it was the key to unlocking a part of myself that had been lying in wait my whole life. I want to travel, I told her.
I want to feel like I can buy a beautiful cake for no other reason than wanting to taste it, I want to attend that salsa class, and when I go I want to wear a dress no one would recognize me in. I want all of these experiences, but my whole life I’ve been told that I need to scrimp and save, that I need to be scared of the unknown, and that I can wait a little longer.
I guess at some point, I figured having another person to do these things with would be the answer. She tells me it’s interesting how the condition I’ve decided on as the barrier to a better life is something I have no control over. We don’t know if, or when, we will find a partner, she says. And why is there a particular justification needed to do the things we want to do? Why do you need a particular reason to love yourself, or think yourself worthy?
When she said it like that, it sounded so simple, so beautiful and obvious like a clean, whole grain of rice, like a smooth river pebble in my hand. I had denied myself so many of life’s pleasures, waiting for someone else’s love to make me feel like I “deserved” it. The whole time, I’d been waiting for a reason when the real permission I needed was from myself.
So, I decided to try being alone; for a year. No dating, no relationships- I even stayed away from my dearest friends, who supported me and assured me we’d resume our friendship afterward. For a year now, I have been learning to depend on myself, to be my own dearest companion, to satisfy that yearning for recognition, adoration, and deservedness within myself, by myself.
I have tried to wean off my reliance on my relationships and friendships for validation and reassurance, and I’ve had to be my counselor, my own friend and my own lover. It has been in many ways, the most confusing and dark and lonely time of my life. But it has been so liberating to realize I don’t need a reason to want anything, or do anything. I don’t need a reason. The fact that I want it, is enough.
I am not sure when I will be ready for a relationship again. Being assaulted has left my wires crossed, between violence and love, trust and fear, desire and harm. It will be a long time before I can wholeheartedly trust someone with my whole self. But if there is one thing I have gained from this, it is learning how to redefine what love means to me.
As sight is so much more cherished by the man who was once blind, it feels euphoric to be okay in the absence of romantic love as a woman who has always been in constant pursuit of it. That isn’t to say I don’t want romantic love anymore; I always will. But I know now that it isn’t finding someone to give me love that makes me worthy- it’s no longer withholding the love I give to myself.
