What Do You Want?: An Explorative Rambling of Complicated Feelings
As I currently write this, I have a face mask on (because face masks fix all problems, right?), Dance Moms opened in a separate tab, and a glass of iced tea lemonade that I’m pretending is spiked (maybe I can trick myself?), all in an attempt to distract me from what I’m feeling, which, completely contradicts the purpose of this post to express everything I’ve been avoiding actively feeling. So I’m going to lay it all out right now— what do you do when you want love, yet are afraid of a relationship?
Sounds confusing? Well, trust me, it is an especially confusing emotion, and it’s one I’ve been unknowingly feeling for quite some time now.
After my last breakup in the first week in August of last year, I quickly decided I wanted nothing to do with relationships and denounced the idea of them. Cut to the last fleeting days of summer as I’m about to depart to dorm at college and I was one foot into pursuing yet another romantic relationship. Isn’t my heart just so consistent? Once that fizzled out, I ran right back to NO RELATIONSHIPS, put a KEEP OUT sign on my heart and dove into my first year of university, eager to have no heartstrings interfering with my college experience.
Alas, that lasted a whole month before the girl from room #105 happened and my feelings were peeking out from the blinds in my heart and slowly doing the locks and deadbolts I had set into place. Yet once again, I ran back inside, confused and scared and hiding behind the excuse of “Now just isn’t the right time in my life.” To be fair, I had a lot going on — adjusting to college itself is hard, making friends is equally hard, and being on your own is one of the hardest adaptations I’ve had to make. But is there ever really a “right” time for a relationship? Aren’t we told by society that the best, most passionate relationships are the ones that happen spontaneously, in the middle of a storm, when you’re least expecting it? Isn’t that how you know that it’s good, real, and worthwhile? I have begun to doubt this.
Any time I’ve launched headfirst into a relationship (which has pretty much been every single goddamn time due to my own impatience and my “fuck it” mentality) it has ended… well, poorly. Hence, why I am single and writing this right now. It’s hard to not fall into the pressure of diving into a relationship and “taking a chance” on love. Yes, love is a chance to be taken, the most dangerous of all, but there is nothing wrong with testing the waters, going through some time of debate, and checking in with yourself as to whether it’s smart to take that chance on a relationship.
Flash forward through far too many drunken nights with bad friends to a clearer state of mind in the new year, one where I sit with my roommate in our nightly ritualistic 2 a.m. talks and I express that I think I’m finally ready for a relationship. I vividly remember this conversation, sitting up in bed while she laid cuddled up with her pillow.
“I just… I feel like I’m finally ready for a relationship. I actually want a relationship and I’m in a good place, for once,” I told her, feeling a warmth in my heart that I hadn’t felt in quite some time due to the ice age it had experienced during my first semester.
In that moment, I felt a newfound hope for love and the possibilities that laid before me. Her, her, or her? Or maybe someone else? Who knows! And it wasn’t long before I decided to act upon these possibilities in the springtime, after Easter break, where I was in pursuit of the girl from room #105. We were friends, very close friends actually, and one of the few people who I honestly opened up to. I thought, “Yes, finally! You could do this! You’re ready!” but then I let myself down and more importantly, I let her down, when suddenly my heart was in retreat, locking doors and putting up walls.
I had always prided myself in being a girl with a big heart and a tremendous amount of love to give. To quote my queen, Audrey Hepburn, “I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.” That quote just about summarizes me to a T. Unfortunately, it’s hard finding someone to give it to, someone who wants it and won’t take it for granted, not necessarily someone who won’t leave, but someone who I could look back on and quietly think, “Yes, I made a good choice.”
Yet, for some reason, for the first time in my short life, I felt that my heart had too much space that I was not willing to share with someone. I wrote in a previous blog post that I had “enough space in my bed, but not enough space in my heart.” It was simultaneously spacey and open, yet too crowded. I felt claustrophobic in my own feelings, like I had the desire to push everything that remained out the door and never let anyone in again. Here’s where I decided that I was being selfish and that maybe, just maybe, that was for the best.
Selfishness carries a negative connotation and it’s a trait I can guarantee almost anyone would be horrified to be dubbed. But truth be told, sometimes we need a little bit of selfishness. There are times I can recall placing myself in uncomfortable situations that could have been easily avoided had I just been a little more selfish and placed my feelings before the other person’s, and I have no shame in admitting it.
My therapist brought to my attention the lack of consideration I have for my own feelings, wants, and needs. She asked me one session while I was in the midst of a complicated string of tangled feelings for different girls, “Well, what do you want?”
“I know that X would want me to…”
“No, no,” she stopped me, “what do you want? Not what others want of you. This is about you, after all.”
And just then it dawned on me that the majority of my life, my feelings, my relationships, had been dictated by someone else. I was constantly doing what others wanted of me, so much to the point where I could no longer answer the question she posed, simply because I had never asked myself it.
What do you want?
I had no idea. I was stumped. I thought I wanted a relationship and look where that had gotten me. And now I’ve come back to the conclusion that what I want is to be a little bit more selfish with my heart, explore it more, and figure out what to do with the empty space. I could easily turn it into an Airbnb, rent it out, let some in and keep others out. Or I could lock the doors, put up that KEEP OUT sign, and wait for another ice age.
But being selfish requires listening, a skill I am way too capable of, except when it comes to the person who matters most— myself.
So my vow, as of right now, is to continuously be in pursuit of an answer—not someone.
I ended a "thing" with the girl from room #105 in a selfish attempt to fill my heart with maps and travels on an adventure to respond to the question I have been hesitant to answer. And after some obvious guilt and remorse, I've decided I made the right choice so that maybe someday (whether near or far) I can confidently say "I am ready for a relationship" and my voice will not shake.
Sounds confusing? Well, trust me, it is an especially confusing emotion, and it’s one I’ve been unknowingly feeling for quite some time now.
After my last breakup in the first week in August of last year, I quickly decided I wanted nothing to do with relationships and denounced the idea of them. Cut to the last fleeting days of summer as I’m about to depart to dorm at college and I was one foot into pursuing yet another romantic relationship. Isn’t my heart just so consistent? Once that fizzled out, I ran right back to NO RELATIONSHIPS, put a KEEP OUT sign on my heart and dove into my first year of university, eager to have no heartstrings interfering with my college experience.
Alas, that lasted a whole month before the girl from room #105 happened and my feelings were peeking out from the blinds in my heart and slowly doing the locks and deadbolts I had set into place. Yet once again, I ran back inside, confused and scared and hiding behind the excuse of “Now just isn’t the right time in my life.” To be fair, I had a lot going on — adjusting to college itself is hard, making friends is equally hard, and being on your own is one of the hardest adaptations I’ve had to make. But is there ever really a “right” time for a relationship? Aren’t we told by society that the best, most passionate relationships are the ones that happen spontaneously, in the middle of a storm, when you’re least expecting it? Isn’t that how you know that it’s good, real, and worthwhile? I have begun to doubt this.
Any time I’ve launched headfirst into a relationship (which has pretty much been every single goddamn time due to my own impatience and my “fuck it” mentality) it has ended… well, poorly. Hence, why I am single and writing this right now. It’s hard to not fall into the pressure of diving into a relationship and “taking a chance” on love. Yes, love is a chance to be taken, the most dangerous of all, but there is nothing wrong with testing the waters, going through some time of debate, and checking in with yourself as to whether it’s smart to take that chance on a relationship.
Flash forward through far too many drunken nights with bad friends to a clearer state of mind in the new year, one where I sit with my roommate in our nightly ritualistic 2 a.m. talks and I express that I think I’m finally ready for a relationship. I vividly remember this conversation, sitting up in bed while she laid cuddled up with her pillow.
“I just… I feel like I’m finally ready for a relationship. I actually want a relationship and I’m in a good place, for once,” I told her, feeling a warmth in my heart that I hadn’t felt in quite some time due to the ice age it had experienced during my first semester.
In that moment, I felt a newfound hope for love and the possibilities that laid before me. Her, her, or her? Or maybe someone else? Who knows! And it wasn’t long before I decided to act upon these possibilities in the springtime, after Easter break, where I was in pursuit of the girl from room #105. We were friends, very close friends actually, and one of the few people who I honestly opened up to. I thought, “Yes, finally! You could do this! You’re ready!” but then I let myself down and more importantly, I let her down, when suddenly my heart was in retreat, locking doors and putting up walls.
I had always prided myself in being a girl with a big heart and a tremendous amount of love to give. To quote my queen, Audrey Hepburn, “I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.” That quote just about summarizes me to a T. Unfortunately, it’s hard finding someone to give it to, someone who wants it and won’t take it for granted, not necessarily someone who won’t leave, but someone who I could look back on and quietly think, “Yes, I made a good choice.”
Yet, for some reason, for the first time in my short life, I felt that my heart had too much space that I was not willing to share with someone. I wrote in a previous blog post that I had “enough space in my bed, but not enough space in my heart.” It was simultaneously spacey and open, yet too crowded. I felt claustrophobic in my own feelings, like I had the desire to push everything that remained out the door and never let anyone in again. Here’s where I decided that I was being selfish and that maybe, just maybe, that was for the best.
Selfishness carries a negative connotation and it’s a trait I can guarantee almost anyone would be horrified to be dubbed. But truth be told, sometimes we need a little bit of selfishness. There are times I can recall placing myself in uncomfortable situations that could have been easily avoided had I just been a little more selfish and placed my feelings before the other person’s, and I have no shame in admitting it.
My therapist brought to my attention the lack of consideration I have for my own feelings, wants, and needs. She asked me one session while I was in the midst of a complicated string of tangled feelings for different girls, “Well, what do you want?”
“I know that X would want me to…”
“No, no,” she stopped me, “what do you want? Not what others want of you. This is about you, after all.”
And just then it dawned on me that the majority of my life, my feelings, my relationships, had been dictated by someone else. I was constantly doing what others wanted of me, so much to the point where I could no longer answer the question she posed, simply because I had never asked myself it.
What do you want?
I had no idea. I was stumped. I thought I wanted a relationship and look where that had gotten me. And now I’ve come back to the conclusion that what I want is to be a little bit more selfish with my heart, explore it more, and figure out what to do with the empty space. I could easily turn it into an Airbnb, rent it out, let some in and keep others out. Or I could lock the doors, put up that KEEP OUT sign, and wait for another ice age.
But being selfish requires listening, a skill I am way too capable of, except when it comes to the person who matters most— myself.
So my vow, as of right now, is to continuously be in pursuit of an answer—not someone.
I ended a "thing" with the girl from room #105 in a selfish attempt to fill my heart with maps and travels on an adventure to respond to the question I have been hesitant to answer. And after some obvious guilt and remorse, I've decided I made the right choice so that maybe someday (whether near or far) I can confidently say "I am ready for a relationship" and my voice will not shake.
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