some things are hard to read

it wasn’t easy but i did wake up and decide i didn’t want whatever version of love involved being called a “c*nt b*tch” on my first trip abroad, thousands of miles away from a safe space.

listening to french for three hours at a party, not involved once in conversation, not to say hey, what is your thought on this, this topic we are talking about, and i know you’re trying hard to not interfere, but i thought about you, my partner who i flew across the world with, and i will speak english enough to let you speak too. i sat in silence and tried to look delicate. happy in my own head.

i cried about it for months, but i did decide i don’t think i should yearn after love that is s*x in the morning followed by "i don’t want to see you today, i don’t want to talk to you today” or a relationship that is “we’re together, but i don’t want to involve you in my life or spend time with you.”

i’m still trying to decide if asking for communication, honesty, respect - if i wanted too much. maybe i really couldn’t just be happy. maybe i took it all for granted.

i’m not sure why it took me so long to walk away from someone who told me to shut up and look pretty while out in public spaces - my prescribed role. who would give me the silent treatment for some unspoken rule i broke, for not performing correctly, for not making the right facial expression or being energetic enough or learning how to sit with a big smile on my face. afraid of messing it all up.

i feel shame for diminishing myself - i think of the young girl with bright, big blue eyes, afraid of people, afraid of the world, and how i have let her down again - thinking if i can do what i am told, be the good girl, always, it will work out - but it didn’t. it doesn’t.

love is not being laughed at while crying, pushed away, “shut the fck up or get the fck out,” screaming so violently spit hits my cheek, “you did this, you are making me this way.”

love is not starting a relationship on lies and continuing to keep secret after secret, lie, lie. muted notifications, ignored calls, secret instagram profiles, “i don’t care” “you’re not worth effort” “the way you try doesn’t mean anything to me” “you have .033% meaning to me because i am x age divided by x time i’ve known you,” some fcked up math equation to signify my value. “why would i miss time with my friends to go on a date with you.”

at 30 years old, i’m not sure what love is or how it should be or if it will find me. but i do think i’ve learned, maybe - it won’t come from anywhere but within. i am sad for what i allowed myself to go through and i don’t think pretending otherwise will help here. but there is something deep down, i feel it churning, starting to surface - this feeling that i will be happy only by protecting myself.

some things are hard to read, write, experience. i did think twice before publishing this, but my experience is mine, and i will share in hopes of helping someone who needs courage to walk away from toxicity.

i had heard it before, dismissed it, and here i am - but i’ll urge you to listen to your intuition, follow your gut, walk away at the very first sign of a red flag. i’m learning, slowly, to withhold standards and choose myself before anyone else - and i encourage you to do the same.

sending love to everyone who needs it (myself first). on to better days - one breath at a time. xx