For the Delusional Romantics in the Wrong Relationship

Your delulu fantasy is a survival skill with an expiration date.

Crystal Jackson
Hello, Love

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Photo by Luis Machado on Unsplash

I used to call myself an incurable romantic. It sounded so much better than hopeless. But if I’m honest with myself, it would have been more accurate to call myself a delusional romantic because I could take any relationship and add a glow to it that was all in my head.

Telling myself a story and believing it isn’t hard.

I’ve always been imaginative. For years, I lived more inside my head than out of it, so it makes sense that when life wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped, I’d spin the story so I could live with it. I wasn’t purposefully lying to myself. I needed to believe it. It might have looked like an act of desperation, but it was pure survival.

What made this even easier is that I lacked social support for several years. Without close family and friends around to provide love and support, I over-invested in my relationships with a you-and-me-against-the-world mentality. It made it easier to spin truth into a more palatable fiction.

But there is nothing romantic about staying in unhealthy relationships and pretending to be happy. We’re caged, and the bars are of our own making — carefully constructed by…

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