We were all 18 years old once. A sense of independence, confidence and fear rushes over you before you move to college and away from the hometown that once meant so much to you.
It’s a vulnerable and confusing time in any young adult’s life.
That’s when I met him.
We met over the “UW-La Crosse Class of 2017” Facebook page the summer before going into freshman year.
I saw his profile thinking he was cute and ambitiously sent a friend request.
He messaged me instantly.
During the two years we were together, I received compliments and praise for having this seemingly perfect relationship. Friends would comment on our pictures together saying “#relationshipgoals”, and they told me I was really lucky to have found my ‘soulmate’ at just 18 years old.
I’m a hopeless romantic- to a fault.
I believed in love at first sight.
I had a Pinterest board of wedding ideas.
I cherished the characters of Allie and Noah from The Notebook.
I told myself I didn’t deserve a man like him; and that phrase made me lose myself.
Feeling loved by the wrong person came at a price. I fell for all the tricks.
“I’ll never do it again”
“I’m so sorry”
“Just give me another chance”
“I’ll change”
“Don’t give up on me”
The first time I heard those lines, I believed them with all my heart. The next time was harder to swallow. After that, they became “the norm” to hear from him.
I’d always justify his actions by telling myself:
“Everyone deserves a second chance...or a third...”
“But I love him”
“He really means it this time”
“I can’t give up on my soulmate”
It was no longer a healthy relationship- but a game of manipulation and lies. Every fight and argument felt more like a boxing match than “just a bump in the road”
It got harder, but I took a leap of faith. We moved in together the summer going into our two year anniversary. I thought I was happy.
In September, I found his Reddit page up on his laptop. Yes, I snooped.
I read messages between him and other users, talking about me. About my body. About sexual kinks. About wanting to have sex with my roommate.
A piece of me snapped that day.
I’ve never been so full of rage, heartbreak and terror. The identity I found after leaving my hometown and moving to college was based around him. I thought “how will I ever live without him?”
The uphill climb to finding myself was long and tiring.
I experienced all of the stages of grief harshly. I spent a lot of time by myself, just trying to find an identity.
I lost my smile for a while.
I’m happy to say I found it again.
How am I doing now?
Well, we have been broken up for 6 months now. Instead of spending my time daydreaming about a perfect wedding, or my future with him, I spend it pondering the workings of the human experience. I journal a lot, and have taken up yoga and meditation in my free time. I’m a Teacher’s Assistant with my advisor, and will start rehearsals for my 8th theatre production at UW-La Crosse.
So, what did I learn?
You don’t need someone to be happy- especially if that someone is only there to drag you away from the self you once knew. I learned to hold myself to a higher standard. I stood in the way of my own happiness for two years.
I could’ve ended it a long time ago, and frankly, I wish I had. But, time was not wasted- I will cherish these lessons for the rest of my life.
What I’m really trying to say is that I hope someone reading this will stand up and realize they're worth more than the love they're receiving.
Do what makes you happy.
It’s cliche- but I think it’s something we forget when we’re in love.
Love can hurt, but don’t compromise happiness for comfortability.
You’re worthy of being happy. Always.
