A Decade of Healing: Is My Love Life Changing at Last?
And do I want what comes next?
Ten years ago, in a tear-filled public display, I broke up with my boyfriend, Rico, in the middle of a Toronto sidewalk.
He walked half a block before I chased after, engulfing him in a desperate hug, “never mind, never mind, let’s not break up.”
A week later, I sat across from a therapist in a small, darkly lit room and confessed for the first time ever, “I think something is wrong with me.”
Today, after a long journey, thousands of dollars, my precious time, and a few more relationships, I’m finally feeling a shift in how I approach intimacy and dating.
But now, a new problem emerges — do I love my single life more than I want a relationship?
In my relationships, I was riddled with anxiety.
The anxiety woke up me at 4AM.
During the Spring of 2015, the rumination began. My thoughts raced; the what-ifs ran rampant. I developed insomnia, waking up consistently at 4 or 5AM and staying awake until I had to go to work. When I’d wake up, I was hungry, but suddenly I couldn’t eat anything.
I developed a gag reflex to food. Even my beloved — peanut butter — wouldn’t stay down.
The questions in my head sounded like: “Is he a good match for me? What if it doesn’t last? What if it does, can I live with all that forever? Do I even like him? Do I like his career? Should he meet my parents?” After a month of it, I booked a doctor’s appointment. (‘Cause if I can’t eat peanut butter, it’s over for me, tbh.)
My doctor listened to me cry and connected me with who would become my therapist of a decade. Bless her heart.
Where did the anxiety come from?
My therapist and I began unpacking where this anxiety was coming from, and unsurprisingly, the conversation turned to my family and the lessons I’d absorbed about love and relationships.
What model had I seen growing up? What had I heard at home? What expectations or assumptions did I hold that I wasn’t consciously aware of?
We uncovered a loud, unhelpful belief system: any differences between you and your potential partner are not good and mean you aren’t right for each other.
This message from Mom was pretty clear: it’s better to be similar than different.
Naturally, I absorbed this belief and took this on at level 100 with everyone I dated. I asked all the questions. I poked. I prodded. I prodded again if I didn’t like what I heard the first time.
I’d be sick when the answers were unclear or uncertain. I’d blow up my partner’s phone with “What ifs”. Date nights turned into “dissect the relationship romp”.
I thought I was preventing future heartache by being diligent. In reality, I was causing it in the present.
It was frustrating and sad for both parties. Most of all, because it sucked the life, joy, and spontaneity that comes with getting to know someone. Everything was a job interview; and while my intentions were pure, the outcome was generalized anxiety and unhappiness.
This went on for a long time. There were more boyfriends. There was more insomnia. There were new issues, like not being able to sleep next to my last partner without feeling tense all over.
In some ways, it’s still going on, to a much lesser extent. Therapy continued all the while.
My therapist taught me many things, but here’s some big ones:
- Crying is a healthy part of life and doesn’t inherently mean something bad is happening
- Most emotions take 90 seconds to get through, if you just give them attention, you can move through them to the other side
- My patterns developed when I was so little and served to protect me, they don’t make me a bad or unlovable person
- Self-compassion is the answer to everything
- Have you considered taking a few deep breaths? (lol)
- It’s okay not to like people and to “reject them”
One reason I see the same therapist after so much time is she is the only person in my life who truly validates me. She has said what I’ve never said to myself, “that sounds really painful Julia.” “That makes sense why you are upset.” “Wow, what a difficult experience for you.”
These phrases are mindblowingly simple and mindblowingly important.
Why?
I never grew up hearing them.
Despite these lessons, consistently being in therapy for the better part of a decade has been slow and gruelling. In one way or another, in each new relationship, my patterns emerged.
I thought for so long, I wasn’t making progress.
I’d feel better, then I’d start dating again and my anxiety came rushing back. The uncertainty and the spiralling returned.
In one way or another, I felt like the same girl my therapist met a decade ago.
Until now. I feel a shift. Funny enough, it does feel “sudden”. Even though it's the culmination of 10 years’ work.
Seemingly out of no where, I’m behaving in new ways.
I feel comfortable assessing compatibility more slowly, and also quickly when it’s something major.
I end things now!
I have “rejected people” quite a lot this year. I’ve sent breakup texts.
The mere thought of that used to send me weeping.
And on the flip side, when someone doesn’t want to date me, I don’t see it as a personal failure. I see it as a choice they’re making, one which I don’t need to spend my time analyzing, dissecting, or understanding!
It is none of my business what they choose and why.
Ah, sweet relief.
I didn’t do anything wrong. What a concept.
Therapy has slowly but surely taught me that differences are inevitable in all relationships. And, most importantly, it takes time to get to know someone.
You can’t predict future outcomes through asking questions. Instead, you have to live your life, invite someone to join parts of it, and see if it works.
You have to *let go*.
I can hear all the anxious girlies evil/sad laughing at that. “Let go?” hahaha. Silly girl.
This takes time. And actually, mine is an ongoing practice.
Unfortunately, I’ve learned you can’t predict the future as a way to stay safe. And you can’t twist yourself into a pretzel trying to.
Not only because it’s impossible to know, but because it robs you of your life. My time is precious and I don’t engage in that activity anymore (if I can help it).
Will it all work out? Not necessarily. Will heartbreak stop coming? Likely not.
But today — finally, after a lot of hard work. I feel different.
I am different.
Now a new question emerges — after all this healing, is a relationship even something I need or want?
You might think, as I did, once I felt better and behaved “healthy”, I’d have a fantastic relationship. One I always wanted.
For years, I felt like I was waiting for someone to ‘fix’ me, ‘save me’. Now that I don’t need that, a relationship feels much less desirable to me.
What a weird next phase of this?
I’ve experienced living alone and being single. I’ve built a business, invested in friendships, worked out, cooked, made a home, pursued dance for me, travelled, moved, and enjoyed life.
I’m dating presently and went into it with the idea I wanted long-term commitment. Since that’s what I’ve always identified with.
But do I?
Now that I’m not desperate for it, I’m wondering what I need it for.
I love my singlehood: the independence, growth, self-discovery, freedom. The past two years have afforded me a lot.
Especially, my peace.
Although dating with less anxiety is rad, being single with no anxiety is radder.
Before recently, you wouldn’t catch me dead uttering the phrase “I’m happy being single, it would take someone special for me to give that up” or “I’m not sure what I want right now, I’m happy with my life.”
I thought people who said these things were bullshitting and emotionally unavailable.
Now that I am them, I’m looking at it all differently.
There are new questions here. Can I be open to love without sacrificing myself? Can I keep everything I’ve gained and gain some more?
Or is life without a romantic partner better than all the lives I’ve lived before?
Have I gone from anxious to avoidant, or is this a secure attachment style? I don’t know.
The truth is, I now know a relationship will never be perfect. There will be challenges to work through no matter what. Maybe now that I see a relationship for what it is, not something that saves me, but something real. And perhaps I’m not sure how to show up for that.
In many ways, my anxiety ensured I never fully committed to any relationships. They kept people at arms’ length.
In this new version of me, I don’t get to hide behind that anymore.
I’m not surprised that makes me want to run.
Ultimately, I haven’t figured it all out yet. I’m still single, still dating, and still hesitant to make promises I’m unsure I can keep. But one thing is clear: my love life is evolving.
The sheer fact that I’m asking “do I want this?” from a place of protecting what is good, instead of “do I want this?” from a place of rumination and anxiety, is evidence enough.
I like the new place. It’s no less confusing (ironic), but it is ultimately healthier.
A decade ago, I walked into therapy convinced something was “wrong” with me. Today, I know there’s nothing to fix — only layers of myself to understand more deeply.
Whether I end up in a relationship or remain single, what matters most is knowing there are no wrong moves, only choices, allowing the story to unfold, and trusting myself with whatever comes next.
