The Finale

I’ve alluded to this chapter of my life in very few blog posts before, but I have never written about what you’re on the cusp of reading. Not publicly. Not privately. Not even in a locked diary that I hide somewhere underneath my bed.

For one reason or another, I’ve never been able to put this experience on paper, which, if you follow my content and/or know me personally, you know that I can pretty much write about anything. And I do. There are very few things I shy away from talking about if I feel inspired or passionate about the topic (even if it’s only for a brief moment in time).

I’ve asked myself time and time again how it’s possible for me not to feel compelled whatsoever to write about one of my most defining sagas. How, how, how?

I remember thinking, “Maybe it’s because I haven’t learned all that I’m supposed to from it, yet.” I rarely write about anything unless I’ve learned from it, so that was my best guess.

When I mentioned that to one of my best friends, she validated my theory by stating, “One day you’ll write about this, and that’s when you’ll know you’ve moved on from it.”

So, here we are— here I am, I should say.

~

I was in an on-again, off-again relationship for many, many years. We were in a constant cycle of ups, downs, radio silence, cyber-communication, face-to-face interaction, and everything in between. I was, more or less, addicted to the high that I got when things were on-again. If you’ve ever sworn off dessert in the hopes that you’ll lose a few pounds and learn to eat less of it, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

“I’m really sticking to my guns this time!”

“Look at me! I don’t even want cake anymore.”

But we all know how this story goes: the moment you’re face-to-face with cake again, you over-indulge to the point where you’re almost sick. You created this “all or nothing” mentality when that’s never how it needed to be. All this goes to say: when you deprive yourself of something, you create an unhealthy lust for it that builds and builds and builds until you feel like there is no other choice but to sink your teeth into what you once swore off.

And that’s precisely the cycle I found myself in. The on-again was satisfying and sweet, but at some point, it would turn sour. That’s when the sickness initiated, and the off-again phase ensued. Sick to my stomach, I would rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

~

Looking back now, I know what we had was toxic. I should preface that by saying, neither he nor I were toxic on our own, but together we were not right for each other, and the constant back and forth was what caused the “relationship” (or whatever you want to call it) to be toxic.

I refrained from describing it as toxic for a very long time out of fear that it would label one of us as a “bad person”, but the truth is, it was indeed toxic. Had it been healthy and had we been right for one another, we would still be together. But when you mix young love, trauma bonding, cyclical communication, and the chase of dopamine together, you don’t concoct a love potion. You create poison, and the problem with getting the two confused is that little sips here and there taste the same. It’s only when you step back and read the label that you realize you’ve been drinking ingredients that are destined to slowly kill you.

Having tasted both bottles at this point, I am fully aware love tastes nothing like what I was once consuming for years.

~

I want to state that I was no saint in our relationship. I know I contributed to the heartbreak that both he and I felt over the years, and even though I never intended to cause either of us pain, I did. I own up to that completely.

Although I’m not here to disclose the personal details of our relationship, I do think it’s worthwhile to share this experience because love can have a really powerful chokehold on its victims, and sometimes, you have no idea you’re being held down, let alone suffocated.

For the longest time, it felt “inevitable” that we would see each other again. We were so used to the back and forth nature of the relationship, that I knew it was only a matter of time before one of us reached out and we rekindled the connection.

But I question now why I felt it was inevitable. Why did I think that was my fate? Why did I accept something I knew was blatantly wrong for me?

And I want to make that loud and clear. I knew our relationship was wrong. Deep in my bones, I knew I was hurting myself by always giving in and going back, but that never stopped me. I always justified my actions with delusional thoughts, and I muzzled the rational parts of my inner dialogue long enough to solely listen to and agree with the devil on my shoulder. Every. Single. Time.

For over ten years I was caught up in a love affair that chewed me up, swallowed me whole, and spit me out over and over and over again. I yearned for a healthy, consistent relationship, but I never let go of the strings I was holding onto. Even when I was involved with other men during the off-again periods (which were very long periods, which is why I dated other men), I had this sinking, twisted feeling it would only be a matter of time before the on-again picked back up.

But on my 25th birthday, I had an epiphany. I wrote in my journal (I say journal but it was really just the notes app that I use in my phone as a journal) that I was leaving what wasn’t for me in the past, where it belonged. It’s pretty radical to think that one day I just decided, “Nothing that isn’t going to serve me is coming into this next chapter with me,” but truly, that’s exactly what I affirmed to myself.

I felt this incredibly strong surge of energy that reassured me I was going to move upward and onward in my 25th year, and (thank the literal heavens for my intuition), that surge of energy was right. I decided I had too much ahead of me to focus on, and anything that wasn’t of utmost positivity wasn’t making the cut forward.

This year, after more time than I could have ever initially imagined, I’ve been able to mentally move on, completely.

I am confident in saying that because after almost seven years of writing on a daily basis and never feeling inspired to write about this situation (something I thought about on a constant basis), I am here— we are here.

~

I want to say that I am grateful for the relationship I just detailed. You might be asking yourself, “Why would she be grateful for a toxic relationship?”, which is a very valid question, but I’ll tell you why.

Even though it was anything but healthy, it equipped me to be who I am today, and that is what I am grateful for. Being in a healthy relationship now, I am able to correct my wrongdoings, connect with the notion of healthy love, and relearn what it means to support, value, and uplift a partner. I am still working on being a better partner for the man I am currently with, but had I not been through what I’ve been through, I probably wouldn’t be so appreciative and thankful of the relationship I’m in today.

So, to end this saga off once and for all, I want you to know one very important thing: you can grow from where you are. You can write a new ending to your story, even if you’ve written the same final chapter 100 times. The last chapter can end differently on your 101st attempt. Just because you did it once (or a million times) before, doesn’t mean it’s inevitable.

You are always the writer of your own life story. Drop a plot twist whenever you want and finish off with a finale. Book number two is waiting to be written in the point of view of a much more dynamic main character.

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