Coming Back to Myself
Written anonymouslyIf you told me when I was 17 that in ten years I would be living on a different continent, I never would have believed you. If you told me that I would also be divorced, I would have laughed and responded with something along the lines of ‘I don’t think so’. But, here I am.
Life has a very funny way of getting us to places we never thought we’d be, so how did I get here? That’s a question I’ve been grappling with over the last year especially; so let’s rewind.
Once COVID-19 spread across the globe, all of our lives changed in some way - big ways, small ways, and sideways. For me, I found myself truly alone and feeling isolated for the first time in my adult life. My husband was quarantined at work for two months, and I moved our whole life to a new city. This provided me with an incredible amount of alone time that I wasn't seeking. It forced me to really reflect on my life: what had led me to where I am, and what is it that I actually want in life? I tried to shove down my unhappy thoughts and feelings of being unfulfilled, attributing them to normal lows. Even writing this now, I don’t know if I am certain of the answers to those questions. But I do know in searching for them, I dug deeper into myself than I ever had. What I found broke me open.
I dug into aspects of myself I had never truly questioned or looked at before - trying to uncover the real parts of me that still lived deep within. I realized that years of trying to satisfy others’ needs and wants for my life, mixed with overcoming past trauma had forced me to create a palatable version of myself. As a woman I know I’m not alone in this; I learned some of these behaviours from my own mother, and she hers - through no fault of our own. I internalised so many overt and covert messages girls and women receive from society that can essentially be broken down into one message: make yourself as small as possible. I began to see that in almost every area of my life, I nurtured the parts of me that others liked, and muted the bits they found to be “too much” or “too intense”. Over the years I had hidden those pieces of me forever. But what remained?
I have always been a helper, the friend people go to with their problems and when they’re in need of support. I knew from a very young age I wanted to be some sort of therapist or counseling professional. I am a deep thinker with many feelings, and am genuinely curious about people’s stories and why we are the way we are. This is an example of something I lost particularly in my relationship with my ex, and I can say with confidence now that I love these things about myself.
I have also always prided myself on being generally liked by everyone and being agreeable. In the past, I have catered myself to fit the needs of other people in an attempt not to ‘rock the boat’, but also in an attempt to feel better about myself. I would get external validation about my feelings, thoughts, life choices and more. If I was helping others and making them comfortable, I was being selfless and a good person, right? The line between helping others and people pleasing is very fine, and I leapt over it.
I can reflect now and see that I was looking for happiness everywhere outside of myself, but could not look in. Maybe I was scared of what I’d find, but I think I always knew it would come out in one way or another. I just needed to be ready. I’m grateful for COVID-19 in that way - it forced me to be alone with myself and my thoughts, and to be brutally honest for the first time in my life. I reflected on my wants and needs, hopes and dreams. I realised how unhappy I was in my marriage… And noticed how I had accepted a relationship that was nowhere near enough for me, where my true self and identity were not embraced nor could be. I realised that I was just surviving every day - I wasn’t living. I was waiting for someone to choose me but I couldn’t even choose myself. So I had to leave, but more so, I wanted to leave… and what a turning point it has been.
My teenage years were not easy; very far from easy, in fact. I experienced a multitude of situations that caused my sense of self and emotional safety to be stripped away from me...so I, in turn, have learned to logic the absolute hell out of life. In high school I began to question my identity and came to the realisation that I was queer. I had a few excellent supporters, but not everyone in my life celebrated (or even accepted) that piece of me. Some, whose opinions I really valued, attributed my queerness to being mentally ill and just being ‘a phase’. The rejection of that part of my identity inflicted a deep pain that ate away at me, and I started to become insecure about other aspects of my identity too. So, after high school, I began to pay attention to the pieces of me that others liked to find a sense of security and support. I also got very good at pretending my life was ‘great’ and that I was extremely happy, even when I wasn’t.
I didn’t realise until recently how much I carried the weight of this into our marriage, and I think that is part of why our relationship could never survive. I quit listening to my gut instincts, my truth. If something didn’t sit right or I didn’t want it, I didn’t believe that was a reason to speak up or leave it. I suppressed my queerness because, while known, it wasn’t acknowledged near enough or present in our relationship, and couldn’t be. I believed my pain and suffering was less important than that of others, and I could help them feel better by minimising myself and doing all the emotional work for the both of us. This started early on in my relationship with my ex, but I wasn’t ready to face the facts and prioritise myself. Re-enter logic: I was trying to problem-solve and make decisions based on chasing a sense of security and safety.
I want to clarify that there are parts of my relationship with my ex-husband that I loved and will miss very much. I do think that our relationship was real and true, but only in the ways I allowed myself to be seen in it. Once I started to notice this, I made many attempts to bring up my needs, wants and concerns, but I wasn't met with openness to these conversations or bids for connection. He is a kind and loving human, but unfortunately does not have the capacity to love me in the way I need to be loved. A part of me will always love him, and I will always be thankful because if not for him and our relationship, I may not have grown in the ways I needed to.
Reflecting now, I can see how I lost my heart. I lost my soul. For someone who has a lot of feelings, I certainly got very good at numbing, avoiding, and problem-solving my way out of them. But as I know all too well from my studies and work, this is not how feelings work. They bottle up inside us until we explode and we project onto other people. I have regrets about that.
The most disappointing factor in all of this is that I genuinely had no idea this was happening until I was face-to-face with my raw self. I hit a bottom I didn’t know was coming and all of the realisations came at once. To say this was confronting is an understatement. I got so good at projecting happiness that friends and family keep asking me “why” questions about our divorce. It scares me how well I got at hiding my true emotions. But after 27 years of letting others’ opinions suppress my own wants and needs, I’m learning to trust my voice again. I’m learning that I am worth it.
Over the past year, my entire sense of self has been broken into a million pieces, but I finally feel like I’m starting to pick up the pieces and glue them back together again. On one hand I feel more authentically me than ever before, but on the other hand I feel like I have no idea who I am anymore. But I’m embracing the beauty of ‘both and’. Parts of me I pushed away are being unveiled and it’s terrifying, but also beautiful. I’m growing every day and learning so much about who I am as a woman, particularly, a queer woman.
I’ve started asking myself what I need to feel safe every day, what I need to get through this tumultuous time, and finding some sense of happiness and hope. Some days I can find the answers, other days I can’t, but I’ve quit beating myself up about that. Some days I want to quit everything and move home, so I let myself ride those emotions. Some days I feel resilient as hell and ready to tackle life on my own, and I’m also riding those emotions. I think that’s part of being a woman doing her unlearning: some days you feel like you can conquer the world and others you feel utterly helpless. I’m reframing my mindset of my feminine qualities and learning to be a caretaker for myself; learning more about self-compassion, allowing myself to not be okay, and feeling my feelings more than ever before. That’s all I can do.
Divorce is hard, even when you want it and it’s the right thing. I’m grieving the end of a relationship and our life together. I’m coming to terms with having the stigma of being a 27-year-old divorced woman follow me. As much as I’m trying to have my own narrative around it, I’d be lying if I said I don’t struggle with some feelings of shame and failure, especially with the common opinion that “good wives stay”. I’m leaning into the feelings of knowing this is the best decision, while also holding those feelings of guilt and sadness.
I’m in the deepest depressive episode of my life; some days it’s enough for me to shower and eat, others I can do my job really well, exercise and eat 3 meals. Every day looks different and there are lots of ups and downs, which is okay.
There’s a lot of uncertainty about the future and what it may bring. But I do know I can make it through this. I am a woman who is strong, resilient, and healing. For now, that is more than enough for me.
**Author’s note: If this story resonates with you and you are in need of support, please contact Samantha through the contact form to be connected with me.