About the struggle of getting to know yourself
Every thought I have is imbued with a little paranoia of the fact that it might not be real, that it might be something my mind created to protect me from being hurt. What if what I see as reality, the things that I remember are nothing but a result of my imagination, my subconscious self trying to protect me? And if it is like this, what would I need protection from? I have to dig deeper into this matter and find out the truth. Who am I and what is my story?
I loved someone when I was in the first year in architecture school and that someone disappointed me. It was complicated and short and I never admitted untill now that I felt that way. Even though, we were never in a relationship and that gave him the "right" to just disappear one day and leave no trace. I couldn't reach him anymore. I remember being sad for exactly 3 days, after which everything was over in my head. That was possible because I always found my comfort in work and it was the thing that brought me stability and happiness. It was something that I could control and that's how I knew it will never disappoint me.
I had holes in my life, but I chose to hide them or ignore them and just lilke that I even forgot they were there. I had so many things to do and I was tackling so many projects aside university that filled my mind and made me truly happy. I chose to be busy and I was building something: me. I was the big project that I was constantly watching from an objective distance and from time to time check if I was the kind of person I would like to meet. I was doing the things I found interesting in other people. I was teaching myself how to speak, how to be sociable, how to be quite. I was growing myself into the person I wanted to be. I never really got there, but I was on the way and that was an indulgence I was allowing myself.
I didn't know my limits and I pushed myself so hard to the point I had to start giving some things up. I though that a mature person would know when to let go. So I let go some of the things that made me happy, but required too much of my time and energy. I gave up the projects that were balancing my disappoinments regarding architecture school. This is when things started to go downhill. After having someone tell me repeatedly that I am not good enough and that I don't work enough and that I am not serious enough... I started to believe it. I think I was in the 4th year when I had a breakdown. I felt worthless. I tried to find a job, but I couldn't find even an internship... you know, the one where you work your ass off and get payed in handshakes.
I always felt alone, but there were only few specific and short moments when that meant being sad. In all it's complexity and isolation, I enjoyed being alone because I was always an introvert, anyway. I enjoyed being with myself and dig into my brain. Somehow I always felt the need to isolate myself and never could because there were always people invading my space.
I never had a relationship and at 23 years old I realised I wanted to have one. My family was always asking when was I goind to find a nice guy to be with and I was always telling them that none of the ones I was getting to know were good enough. Now, good enough sounds pretentious, it's just that the guys showing interest in me were not the ones that attracted me. I found them flavourless. I had pretty high standards and that was something that my mother used against me. She used to say that I am too picky and that I should lower my expectations and give a chance to the ones who like me and stop expecting love or emotions, 'cause that's something I will learn to feel later in a relationship. To a degree I think that she was just affraid to know me here, all by myself and I think she was pressing me to find someone just so she can rest assured that there was a man taking care of her daughter.
By the end of the 3rd year, I got into this group of people that I later called my friends. They were the reason I kept going, even tough I still felt like I was missing something. In the end, we were all broken in our own ways by the things we were always hiding. This felt familiar and relateable. They were normal people with normal lives and we were gathering up so often just to talk and have a drink. It was nice.
There was this hype in my group about tinder so I said why not give it a try. Me and my girlfriends were spending the summer evenings of 2015 in the kitchen commenting and swiping. Left... left... right... left... left... There were so many men there and I think that only 1% of them got me to think that maybe there was more than meets the eye. That offer in men got my standards so low, that I decided that I was going to give up looking for specific traits and try something new: dating someone different from the ones I felt attracted by. I was going to give a chance to a man that was attracted by me instead. That's how my 4 and a half years relationship began: with the wrong premises and for the wrong reasons.
My friends saw my boyfriend as a pretentious, snob kid to say the least. I would be lying if I would say I didn't see him like this too, but I wanted to give him a chance to proove himself, after all that was the deal I made with myself when I decided to give it a try. Maybe deep down, he was more than a desperate man, wanting to find someone to share his bed/life with. At that moment I knew I had to choose between having late night parties in my apartment 5 times a week and investing in this relationship. I knew that if I would invite him to spend time with my friends, they were going to eat him alive. So I gave up my friends and chose him instead. My friend who was constantly crashing at my place moved and the parties stoped. Soon after, my roomate also moved. I didn't speak with them ever since. I started this relationship with a compromise so big, I never told anyone about it.
Now, after a turbulent relationship and 3 and a half months after the break-up I am wondering what is real of what I remember of it and if me realising that I was lying to myslef all this time is real, then why was I doing it? Why would I accept so many flaws in this relationship and why did I compromise so many things that matter so much to me? Love? Maybe... the only problem is that it came in late and left early. Maybe the rest was pure habbit and comfort.
I loved someone when I was in the first year in architecture school and that someone disappointed me. It was complicated and short and I never admitted untill now that I felt that way. Even though, we were never in a relationship and that gave him the "right" to just disappear one day and leave no trace. I couldn't reach him anymore. I remember being sad for exactly 3 days, after which everything was over in my head. That was possible because I always found my comfort in work and it was the thing that brought me stability and happiness. It was something that I could control and that's how I knew it will never disappoint me.
I had holes in my life, but I chose to hide them or ignore them and just lilke that I even forgot they were there. I had so many things to do and I was tackling so many projects aside university that filled my mind and made me truly happy. I chose to be busy and I was building something: me. I was the big project that I was constantly watching from an objective distance and from time to time check if I was the kind of person I would like to meet. I was doing the things I found interesting in other people. I was teaching myself how to speak, how to be sociable, how to be quite. I was growing myself into the person I wanted to be. I never really got there, but I was on the way and that was an indulgence I was allowing myself.
I didn't know my limits and I pushed myself so hard to the point I had to start giving some things up. I though that a mature person would know when to let go. So I let go some of the things that made me happy, but required too much of my time and energy. I gave up the projects that were balancing my disappoinments regarding architecture school. This is when things started to go downhill. After having someone tell me repeatedly that I am not good enough and that I don't work enough and that I am not serious enough... I started to believe it. I think I was in the 4th year when I had a breakdown. I felt worthless. I tried to find a job, but I couldn't find even an internship... you know, the one where you work your ass off and get payed in handshakes.
I always felt alone, but there were only few specific and short moments when that meant being sad. In all it's complexity and isolation, I enjoyed being alone because I was always an introvert, anyway. I enjoyed being with myself and dig into my brain. Somehow I always felt the need to isolate myself and never could because there were always people invading my space.
I never had a relationship and at 23 years old I realised I wanted to have one. My family was always asking when was I goind to find a nice guy to be with and I was always telling them that none of the ones I was getting to know were good enough. Now, good enough sounds pretentious, it's just that the guys showing interest in me were not the ones that attracted me. I found them flavourless. I had pretty high standards and that was something that my mother used against me. She used to say that I am too picky and that I should lower my expectations and give a chance to the ones who like me and stop expecting love or emotions, 'cause that's something I will learn to feel later in a relationship. To a degree I think that she was just affraid to know me here, all by myself and I think she was pressing me to find someone just so she can rest assured that there was a man taking care of her daughter.
By the end of the 3rd year, I got into this group of people that I later called my friends. They were the reason I kept going, even tough I still felt like I was missing something. In the end, we were all broken in our own ways by the things we were always hiding. This felt familiar and relateable. They were normal people with normal lives and we were gathering up so often just to talk and have a drink. It was nice.
There was this hype in my group about tinder so I said why not give it a try. Me and my girlfriends were spending the summer evenings of 2015 in the kitchen commenting and swiping. Left... left... right... left... left... There were so many men there and I think that only 1% of them got me to think that maybe there was more than meets the eye. That offer in men got my standards so low, that I decided that I was going to give up looking for specific traits and try something new: dating someone different from the ones I felt attracted by. I was going to give a chance to a man that was attracted by me instead. That's how my 4 and a half years relationship began: with the wrong premises and for the wrong reasons.
My friends saw my boyfriend as a pretentious, snob kid to say the least. I would be lying if I would say I didn't see him like this too, but I wanted to give him a chance to proove himself, after all that was the deal I made with myself when I decided to give it a try. Maybe deep down, he was more than a desperate man, wanting to find someone to share his bed/life with. At that moment I knew I had to choose between having late night parties in my apartment 5 times a week and investing in this relationship. I knew that if I would invite him to spend time with my friends, they were going to eat him alive. So I gave up my friends and chose him instead. My friend who was constantly crashing at my place moved and the parties stoped. Soon after, my roomate also moved. I didn't speak with them ever since. I started this relationship with a compromise so big, I never told anyone about it.
Now, after a turbulent relationship and 3 and a half months after the break-up I am wondering what is real of what I remember of it and if me realising that I was lying to myslef all this time is real, then why was I doing it? Why would I accept so many flaws in this relationship and why did I compromise so many things that matter so much to me? Love? Maybe... the only problem is that it came in late and left early. Maybe the rest was pure habbit and comfort.
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