Growing up in the small town that I did, it was hard to come across a family that was anything like mine. I don't say this out of disdain or jealousy, I just state it as an observation. My family was different, a little unhappy and a lot broken.
My mom, on her third marriage, and my step-dad, also on his third marriage had been on a fast track to divorce for as long as I could remember. This is what I grew up knowing and seeing: constant fighting, put downs and yelling. Anything but love. I never got that part though, that it wasn't love, I just assumed that's what it was and I always said to myself, "Don't ever be in love."
In high school as my parents began finalizing their divorce, I made sure to stray away from relationships. Why would I want something so toxic in my life? I grew up seeing what it did to both of them, turning them into people they didn't know they could be. That definitely wasn't for me, and I didn't mind being alone.
Fast track to my freshman year of college and gaining the knowledge that my mom, my best friend in this world, had found the one. This one was different, he was nice, he was good, and she was happy. Here I was, in a brand new town, in a brand new school, with brand new guys, and so I was ready for a brand new me. I took the plunge, I fell in love for the first time (or what I thought was love) and it fell apart.
It started out great, just as my mom had said about her new boyfriend, my new boyfriend was nice, good, sweet to me, and he made me happy. Love isn't so bad, I kept telling myself. It wasn't so bad, though, until it was. Our "honey moon" phase, as I've heard it called, only lasted about a month before his true colors came out. He lied to me, cheated on me, degraded me and hurt me repeatedly. I never left though, and I stayed in that unhappy relationship for 9 months because that's what I grew up seeing. I knew this was how it was supposed to be so I kept telling myself, "This is it. You've found it. You've found love."
At first it made me sick and I wondered to myself if it was some gene that had been passed down to me: picking the wrong guy. As much as I love my mother, she'll admit to it that she's best at picking the worst men for her, because just as my new relationship was falling apart, hers had too. I couldn't continue on in an unhealthy relationship though, and I told myself I wanted to be different, I wanted to break that cycle, and so I came to my senses and ended it, nine months after it had started. Making it my longer and most serious relationship ever. Pretty sad, huh?
Fast track seven months and I took the plunge again. I fell in love (actual love), and this time it was different, but as it turns out, I wasn't so different. I the first 18 years of my life in an unhappy home watching how two unhappy people "in love" treated each other, and it seemed I had acquired some of those qualities I hated so much.
From a girl in love who's never seen healthy love, it's hard. It's hard knowing how to treat someone who treats me so well, because I was never taught the proper way to love or treat a significant other. My current relationship is a constant struggle for me, because more than anything I want it to work, but I just don't know how. I say awful things sometimes, I lash out, I start unnecessary fights, and it's not because I mean to, it's because I don't know any different.
I keep waiting for him to start treating me poorly, just as I have seen men treat my mom poorly all my life, and as my previous boyfriend had treated me. I keep waiting, but it never happens. He treats me good, like a Queen even, he makes me happy, but do I choose to appreciate it? No, of course not, I make problems and issues where there are none. (I'm working on it, though.)
In my mind, proper love and treatment is taught, just as toxic love and bad treatment is too. Everyday is a learning process for me, but every day I stray further away from thinking that an unhealthy relationship is a good relationship, and everyday I learn how to love a little bit better. I've learned that loving someone takes time and patience for me, but I've also realized that it takes time and patience for someone to love me back.
