Loving and Hurting in spite of Labels
I’m turning 25 and I’ve never had a ‘boyfriend’.
This has been a feature of my life that has tormented me for quite a bit. No, it’s not about the loneliness or undesirability so often associated to the desolation of singlehood that have caused me stress and sadness. The problems that I have faced in regards to this state of perpetual singlehood are of a whole other nature.
As someone that has never found herself in a properly defined committed relationship, I find it so hard to talk to people about my experiences because they always seemed so trivial. When I do share about my troubles, struggles and disappointments, I often can’t wait to just shut myself up already because I felt, deep down, that everything could so easily be brushed off as simple wishful thinking on my part. All my experiences seemed so insignificant compared to the real breakups that happened around me every now and then. I saw myself as simply being silly, because nothing substantial seemed to have even really started and yet there I ended up, time and again, in tears. I mean, I never was anyone’s ‘girlfriend’, so technically I have never experienced ‘breakups’. And because I never could own either of these labels, I repeatedly tried to convince myself that I should not be hurting as much as I did. I just didn’t seem to have the right to.
It is no understatement to say that labels have the power to legitimise and provide definitions for what we have gone through. Labels also make it easier for others to imagine and relate to the stories we tell. But because of their very power, labels inevitably exclude so much of the human experience because life hardly fits nicely into defined categories of experience. And as some experiences are privileged over others, many of us may be left confused, lost and in doubt when we go through realities that fall out of definition.
We question if what we went through was substantial at all. Does it mean that we loved any less? Does it mean that we may even have never loved at all? And if so, do we then not have the right to really hurt when things fall apart?
It took me a while before I finally figured that just because there never was a right name or a label for what we lived through doesn’t mean that what we experienced was any less real or significant. It doesn’t mean that what we shared with another person was never true. And it certainly doesn’t mean that everything that happened never mattered. To write off your memories or trivialise your hurt just because everything fell out of definition would simply be unfair to you. No one should deny you the space to smile, to hurt, and to feel — not even you.
Because your smiles mattered, the kindness you showed made a difference, the laughters you shared were moments of joy in its purest form, the warm hugs and gentle kisses you gave were special and unique to you, and the times you looked into their eyes while thinking how lucky you were — it all mattered.
As long as what you gave was true and sincere, nothing could deny how significant and important it all was to you. It doesn’t even matter if it was reciprocated, if they were equally true to you, or how long the good times lasted. At the end of the day, even if it all falls apart, you have experienced something so precious and powerful. The least you could do for yourself is to understand that what you went through was something that mattered even if no label could define any of it. That you mattered.
And I’m not saying that labels don’t matter; if they do to you, they do. Go ahead, demand them fearlessly in future. After all, labels provide powerful affirmation and assurance. But, even if the reality of your experience didn’t fit into society’s perfect little moulds in the form of labels, don’t lie to yourself that it wasn’t much when it was indeed significant. Love and hurt all the same. And when it’s time, let go of it all the same. Pick yourself up and be proud of having been able to love so kindly and give so sincerely — despite the lack of labels.
