I’ve never really learned to be independent. I honestly don’t know if I ever was, especially with my anxiety disorder coming into play. I have always depended on people to make me happy. More so, for a boy to come along and patch up every wound that’s been inflicted on me - either from the boy before him, or just a simple flaw of mine. I just feel that I’m not complete unless I have a boyfriend. I have dated countless men/boys, most of them which end after a couple of months with a long week of heartbreak until I search for another. It’s been the same pattern for years, and I never seem to learn. I am so sick and tired of making the same mistake. So why do I do this?

I’ve been focused on boys and finding love ever since I was in Middle School. I became obsessed, watching my crush's every move and repeating everything back to my mother. I wrote everything in a diary. It was my own little world and I loved it. I daydreamed and imagined a life with a perfect husband. Ever since, it had been all I wanted deep down: to find a soulmate to complete me. I let myself be destroyed by my first relationship when I was sixteen. My anxiety came back, and I could not eat for weeks on end because I was so afraid of what could happen. I didn't know what to expect, all I knew was that he was my definition of happiness. My mother made me go to therapy to help my problems with anxiety, as she saw I was drastically losing weight. Although this boy I was madly in love with chose another girl over me. For the rest of High School I basically feared boys. I feared him. Any person associated with him I could not look at. I blocked him, blocked as many of his friends as I could. The anticipation of starting college and this "new beginning" is what kept me at peace with myself.

In College, I got more attention than I had expected- the kind I sure did not receive in High School. I dated many boys. One after another. I fell into some long relationships - one a year long, and one about six months long. These long-term relationships all ended because of me. I felt like I was being suffocated, and I was bored, and I yearned to be with someone else. Someone better. I feel like the punishment of breaking these boys’ hearts was to get mine broken. After I ended the relationships, I chased boys left and right. I like the thrill of talking to someone, telling them everything about my day. Knowing someone cares is what keeps the momentum going. I feel alive, my heart's on fire, and I feel like I’ve finally found my place in life. I was never prepared, however, each time for the major letdown.

“I’m just too busy to have something serious right now.” “I’m not in the right state of mind right now to date anyone.” Yes, I’ve heard it all. After several months, or several weeks, I hear the same thing but in different words with a different face. I try not to cry as my life comes crashing down on me in that moment. My anxiety maximizes the situation ten times more. I have legitimately felt afraid for where my life will go from that moment on, because I could not imagine myself with anyone else. I can still feel the dread and the nausea. And the days after, trying to still reach out. Trying to repair things. Obsessing over thinking about his life and all he has going on. Holding on to that last little bit of hope that they will magically change their minds. Not eating because it has been two hours since he’s texted me. Getting drunk so I can muster up the courage to ask him to hang out and not make myself feel like a complete fool. Sometimes I just don’t. Give. Up. I don’t know when to, until the moment where I crack. Or he stops talking to me. One way or another, I do the same thing - go to the next guy.

After getting over a boy several months ago who caused me so much anxiety, I have since dated more. No, they did not go so well. My risk-taking self would tell me to text him. My smart self would tell me that it would take too much of a toll on my heart. What if he doesn’t text me back? Then how would I feel? I simply just can’t date anymore. For a long time. After my first heartbreak in High School, I surrounded myself with my school work and a job. I kept myself extremely busy to keep my mind off of him. It has to be the same way now, because at this point I truly believe that if I keep throwing myself out there, I will keep getting hurt.

I was on the phone with my friend Sarah one time after I felt so let down. I was crying, telling her I can’t do this anymore. She told me “If you don’t learn the first time, it’s just going to keep coming back and hit you harder each time.” I couldn’t agree more. As I move along, I have dumped my old feelings for the previous boy into the new one, and so on. When the cycle doesn’t end, I don’t change. I need to make the change within myself. I need to figure out more of who I am, learn to love myself, develop independence, and spend more time with friends. Love is like a drug: It give you this euphoric happiness, but that feeling itself is toxic. It is not something to blindly step into. Most importantly, his actions do not define myself. I will scream this at myself in the mirror until I truly learn not to hold myself accountable for the reason that they could not stay. If my confidence radiates, it won’t necessarily help keep boys around - it will help me still remain prideful even after rejection. For now though, I will refrain. It will be hard, it will be a challenge, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.