I was deleting some of the years of pictures clogging up my phone to try to make it work faster and I came across a screenshot of my response to my former husband after he found out I had been diagnosed with cancer and told me that because of that, now he had to “play hardball.” (if you are confused by what that means, join the club. It was typical of the verbal abuse and gibberish and delaying the legal process I had gotten rolling. “This is what I have to do.” He just kept repeating it over and over, like a robot with a glitch.)
I don’t know why I screenshot it. Probably at the time it was to have it handy to read to my therapist. This was one of our last communications ever before he completely disappeared. But in reading it, and having other memories sparked, I realized, oh, I was absolutely a loving partner to this man for almost two decades. I don’t mean that in a “oh, I loved him so much, he was everything to me” kind of way. I mean I was always truly loving to him, in a way that frankly the world assumes that I wouldn’t know how to be because of the myth that you can’t love anyone until you love yourself.
I’ve talked before on this forum about teaching myself how to love due to my nightmare childhood. In order to love yourself, it is helpful if you have that positive feedback loop, if someone is loving you, especially when you’re young. I’m self-taught all the way. I think the myth that I can’t be loved or can’t be trusted to give healthy love because of the very fact that I have to work harder than most to love myself is quite frankly bull$h!te. I know and I’ve always known how to take responsibility for my emotions. I know and I’ve always known how to give space and take space for myself, how to leave space for understanding, how to not see in black-and-white, how to listen, how to change my mind based on new information, how to respond instead of react, how to ask questions and to seek understanding.
The issue was not believing I deserved the same in return. That it wasn’t just that I knew how to listen, but that I deserved to be listened to. It wasn’t just that I sought to understand, but that I deserved to have others seek to understand me. it wasn’t just that I knew how to take responsibility for my emotions, but that I should surround myself with people who do as well. See, I taught myself how to love but not how to be loved. Reading my response to my husband’s absolutely abusive and cruel response to learning that I had been diagnosed with cancer really was a stark reminder of that.
I may have veered towards the familiar in choosing my marriage, and to the outside world that seems like I didn’t know how to love myself and therefore I didn’t allow myself to be loved, and therefore I shouldn’t seek to be loved (romantic, platonic or otherwise) until I love myself.
But again, that’s some circular bull$h!te. Sure, things might have been very different if I had a different “familiar” baseline (because we all choose familiar, that’s not something that only those of us with severely abusive childhoods or trauma do). Where would I be right now if I had been able to thrive in a healthy relationship, to put all those skills I taught myself into action. But I also know I’m pretty bad ass for persisting without it and still being able to be loving and to care for others and to know myself well enough to not seek love in any form to fix the things only I can fix.
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/stronger-the-broken-places/202101/myth-you-can-t-love-someone-until-you-love-yourself?amp🎶
https://youtu.be/PYTC79rPI1s?si=cNlqFZAS_uIaNS03And if I seem a little strange
Well, that's because I am
If I seem a little strange
That's because I am…
The desire to be loved is the last illusion. Give it up and you shall be free. ~ Margaret Atwood