My ex-boyfriend used to break up with me a lot. Like every three months, a lot. I could always feel it coming. It was like a death beetle strumming its feet across my chest, causing my heart to race and making it hard to breathe.
Eventually I started beating him to the punch.
One night we went on a sushi date. The night was fine, just another night out. We weren’t fighting. He wasn’t even acting strangely around me. We paid the check and got into his car so that he could drive me home. All of sudden I felt the shift in the air. I asked him if I could spend the night at his and he made some excuse about being too tired. The next day he called me and asked me why I had asked him that. I said, “because I knew you were trying to break up with me and I didn’t want to let you go.” I was always trying to prolong the pain as long as I could.
Years later, during the last night we would spend together, he would say, “your intuition was always so spot on. It’s crazy how you always knew.”
I used to believe I had a really bad anxious attachment style. But as I began to work on myself, I realized anxiety only manifested within me when I would deny what I already knew.
He’s sick. He’s busy. He has ADHD. He wants a slow burn. He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s not a planner. He’s traveling. Those are all the things I would tell myself when I was trying to make it okay to accept less than I deserved.
I would sell parts of me in exchange for fragments of the love I wanted and desired. I wanted to believe that I was crazy. That it was all in my head. I wanted to believe that it was anxiety and I needed to heal more. God what I would give to be wrong just once.
Not because I don’t think I deserve more, but because I’m so tired of waiting for love to arrive that I just want to rest my head somewhere warm for a while, even if it won’t last. Even if I deserve more.
But the pounding in my chest won’t let me sleep. When I deny my intuition it begins to take on the form of my inner child throwing a tantrum. She screams at me. She robs me of the present so I can no longer concentrate on work until I pay attention to her. Sometimes I beg her to stop. Sometimes I try and distract her with exercise or TV. Sometimes I try to console her by looking for validation, “see he texted us back. It’s all in your head.”
For years, I would fight for love where it wasn’t there to be won. I used to write about putting my heart on the cutting board and handing over the machete. Love felt sacrificial. It was something I needed to earn, to win. But I was the only one bending and trying and fighting. I’d betray my own needs in exchange for attention or affection because it was close enough for me, a girl that never believed she was enough.
It took me years to start building trust between my heart and inner child. Sometimes I still waiver. But never for long.
Instead of denying her, I started listening to her.
Whenever I sensed a shift in the air, I’d look in the mirror and say, “let’s just enjoy the day and when it’s time to let go, we will. I’ll choose you this time. Don’t worry.”
And while I never want to let go, I do.
I know what it feels like when two people are mutually excited about each other. I know how I sleep at night. I know how easy it is to breathe. I know how my mind focuses on the present because I don’t have to wonder if he’s thinking of me, I know. I know how I glow when I’m being entirely myself.
I know how peaceful she is when she’s not having to scream at me to listen.
And while he may never arrive, I know that little girl inside me doesn’t have to fight for love anymore because I’ll love her.