Healing My Relationship Wounds

I genuinely tried to get out of writing this. I had this whole other flowery post about falling back in love with photography, which was genuine and great, but not what I was supposed to writing about. One of the perks (disadvantages??) of being intuitive is you always know when something is authentic.

For as long as I can remember (with one glaring exception; and a new possible exception - because I know he is probably going to read this), I have dated intimacy cowards and/or people that needed deep healing…and more often than not both. One of the perks of being an out of hand healer (i.e. - someone who sees someone hurting and wants to help them heal - no matter the cost to themselves).

What do I mean by intimacy coward? It’s someone who wants the healing and the love from a relationship, but doesn’t want to show up or put the work into themselves OR they do want to put the work in and show up, but they are so terrified that they just can’t and they shut down or convince themselves that they want something else.

To be fair, I recently discovered that I put A LOT of pressure on all my past relationships, because that is how I thought one was meant to grow rather than just growing for the sake of growth. So, I am not blameless in ANY of this, but I digress.

And, I know that so much of this has to do with my own views of self and my sense of value and worthiness, but it still stings every single time that it happens. Plus, through genuinely no fault of my parents, I have trauma around being left and ignored. My dad travelled back and forth to Italy, working as a Furniture Importer. My mom was a Flight Attendant, and would be gone a few days in a row each week. And, the biggest, the Au Pair that we had until I was three, who I was my constant and who I was VERY close with, eventually went home and left me. So, there’s some stuff with that.

I can probably count on both hands the number of relationships that I have had in my life. None lasted very long. This feels a bit overindulgent to write, so feel free to skip, but there may also be some mirrors or some information that may help you work through your own stuff, because I am going to talk about how I healed from each one; granted decades later, but still…yay, me. \o/

Here we go, let’s start with my high school boyfriend aka my first love, J. We dated, went to Prom, had all of the firsts. I really loved him. We broke a month or two into my freshman year of college. That hurt. A LOT. It caused me to have a lot of deep dark depressive thoughts for months. We stayed in touch over the years. He would always reach out when he was having a tough time. I even met his partner and his kids a couple of times. He wishes me a happy birthday at the start of every year, even though it is at the end of the month, and yet somehow it took until this year to realize how little effort he put into keeping in touch, because I would always respond fully to zero effort. So I stopped, we don’t talk much anymore.

Next up we have college, I guess? I don’t think I dated anyone seriously throughout college. Definitely had unreciprocated crushes, but nothing really concrete. Although…I almost forgot about F. I think he was the first time that I felt at home with someone the moment, I met them. We met at a Summer language program. We spent a lot of evenings laying outside, starring up at the stars, and talking. He lived in another country and was dating someone, but by the end of the Summer he had broken up with them. I went to visit him a few months later, but we lived in different countries. I was heartbroken. Really dark depressive thoughts again, a lot of listening to Tindersticks. We stayed in touch on Facebook over the years. I watched him get married and have a kid, we would message from time to time, but it was always hard for me even though I knew deep down he was never my person. With him, it was just a matter of letting go.

Then either my senior year of college or the Summer after I met someone from the video store I worked at, D. I don’t think I have ever truly been loved like that, but the interesting bit is that I only realized this a couple of years ago. At 23, I wasn’t capable of allowing myself to be loved the way that he loved me. He was and still is, incredibly smart, so smart and creative and passionate. I remember being hurt when he told me he was getting married on Instant Messenger (gosh, I’m old). I think the marriage was more about having a kid than it was about anything else, so he and I still spoke over the years, but he was married by then, and it didn’t matter what their situation was, I was and will never energetically or emotionally go near a married person. It’s too messy, and it just feels wrong to me. And, by the time I realized how deeply he loved me, it was too late. But realizing that level of love was a HUGE deal for me, because I was finally able to see that even though I wanted to be deeply loved, I couldn’t have it yet. There was work to do.

I really don’t want to write about this one, because it is embarrassing and painful and just shitty. I met someone through family. He was sober (recovering from hard drug use) at the time, but he wasn’t a few months later. It was hands down the lowest “relationship” point in my life. I was never much of a drinker, but I drank A LOT during this time. I must have some pretty incredible angels. He stole money, “borrowed” my car, shoved me when I called him on it, broke into my house multiple times (despite me changing locks), and worse that he will never acknowledge, and there is more that I would prefer not to get into, but only recently began to process. It was karmic and messy and took me YEARS of energy, therapy, and more energy work to work through all the fear and trauma that he caused to my sense of self and safety. I ended up with PTSD from this one, to the point where years later, I would run into him and it would cause a major anxiety attack. To this day, if I never see him again, it will be too soon. On the plus side, this “relationship” got me to quit smoking, so there is that.

It’s so interesting. I am getting to my longest relationship, and I don’t have a lot to say about it. It was fine. He was kind, sweet, safe, and broken. I helped him heal a lot. And, eventually, when we broke up, I stayed close with his brother’s family. I still see them, even almost 18 years after breaking up. Weird how certain people bring other people into your life who just stick. I will always grateful for that.

About three years of random crushes that all blend together and never really went anywhere.

And on to Michael. I am using his name, because he has been gone for 11 years, and anyone who knows my story and my work, knows that he was the catalyst for my life and work becoming what it is today. I did the work and put in the effort, but he certainly lit the spark. I met Michael at a camera store, and my very first impression of him was, “Who is this loud man?” And, I was so fascinated by him. He sat in on the workshop I was attending, and then after we both went on the photo walk (something neither of us would have normally done). He was talking to someone about how he had been a director and that he had directed Mannequin (my favorite movie growing up). I didn’t believe him, and I watched it that night. Turns out, he was not lying. I have no idea why I thought he would. My brain. Anyway, we exchanged numbers at the end of the night, and I reached out when I returned from a trip to NYC. We kept having dinner, we kept talking. People kept asking us if we were on a date. We kept telling them they were crazy. Then, about a month or two later, after we spoke on the phone every night for a week, I knew I had fallen in love with him. I just had no clue what to do about. I don’t even know that we talked about it, we just kind of had an actual date. He was so nervous. It was really sweet. Four days later, he came to Christmas at my sister’s. Two weeks later, I had a key to his place. Four months later, we were talking about moving in together. And, one month later, he would be in a fatal motorcyle accident (11 years ago next week). It was intense, and hard, and beautiful, and intimate, in a way I had never experienced before. Even if I knew the outcome, I would do it all over again. He still says hi from time to time. Every time I hear the theme song from Mannequin, I get a warm glow in my heart. Makes me tear up every time. There is nothing greater than having the person, who you think is the greatest, think you are the greatest too. I wish everyone could experience that at least once in their life.

Anyone who gives you a formula for how long it takes to get over someone is a liar, because that formula doesn’t take karma, past life times, or the depth of a love into consideration. B. Oh, B. I spoke to B for the first time 4 months after Michael past away, but I had known who he was for a lot longer. In fact, I had worked with his identical twin a couple of years before. He was nice, but he had nothing on B. I found out the day I met him that he, without knowing me, had written one of the most beautiful comments on a photograph I had shared about Michael (in a film photographers group). I always thought his brother had written it (they had a joint account), but it was him. We talked a little here and there, and started dating a month later. I am not sure I have ever loved anyone the way that I loved him. His friends didn’t really think there was a future with us, which never helps and really hurt. After three months together, I was invited to spread Michael’s ashes. I was A MESS after. I was still so deeply broken, and I think B thought my pain was his, and it was too much. And so, one night, he came over, and he ended things. It took me YEARS, and I genuinely mean years, to get to a place where I could finally wish him all the love and good things in the world, because the truth is, that kind of love, is far too sacred to have pain attached to it. I wish I had met him when I wasn’t so broken, but maybe that’s exactly why we met, because we were both broken in our own ways.

I met S at his sister’s wedding. I was the photographer. We hit it off. I got nudged into staying for dinner after, and he and I kept talking. He was in the USA for another 10 days before returning to Belfast. He asked me out on New Year’s Day. The next day, he asked if I wanted to go on a 5 day road trip with his mum and his nana. I went. It was a really nice trip. A month later, I went to Belfast for three weeks to see if there was the potential for something more. There was a jarring red flag when he asked If I thought he was my last chance at marriage and a child. I should have walked away then, because what a weird thing to say to someone. I was in London in April, so I shifted some things to go back to Belfast. We broke up, but then sorted things out. I had two really lovely visits after that, one being Christmas. It felt like there was a future there. Then after I got back, a little Tortie decided to move in with him. She lived with him for about a month before he found out she belonged to a neglectful neighbor. He didn’t fight for her; even though she was clearly his. She tried to move in a few more times, but he kept bringing her back. He shut down after he gave her up. Stopped referring to her by name, only “cat.” I went for one more visit, but it felt colder than the last time. We still spoke of a future, talked of getting married, decided to give it some time. He asked me to marry him a few weeks later after he had some time to think about it. Two weeks after that, we had a call. He was completely closed off and shut down, and that was that. There is more to this one, but it is so layered and nuanced, that I am not sure I have it in me to write about it, plus it is past my bedtime and also, it’s done. It took a long time for me to work on forgiving him, especially for forgiving him for all the possibility and friendships that I lost when he walked away. I had to work REALLY hard to fall in love with Belfast, it is a wonderful city, but it is full of scars, even today. And I did, I fell hard. I had to mourn losing the country, the life, and then I had to grieve the end of the relationship. I’ve been back to Ireland a few times since, so even though it’s not as often as I would like, I still get to see one of my favorite humans and her beautiful family.

And then there was K, my first online dating experience. We had a few dates, and started to have a really nice time. Then he ran into an ex, I think, and decided I wasn’t the one. Then, one of us reached out in March of 2020. We started dating again for a few months, but covid made it weird. He broke up with me again. Then, I matched with him on Tinder a couple months (don’t ask) or we ran into each other. Either way, we started dating a third time. It was fine, but it was always distant, like going through the motions and emotions without fully feeling them? We dated on and off for over a year, and I think I spent less than 20 nights at his place, and I don’t think he ever stayed at mine. We kind of mutually ended things. Then, a year later, we ran into each other outside of a concert. We started talking, had lunch, went to a movie. He wanted to try again, but I just didn’t. It was weird being on the other side of things, and knowing what I didn’t want. I was 41 the first time I chose not to end things permanently with someone. 41…which is kinda nuts when you think about it.

I stopped dating for 4 years to work on my own stuff, and then, the first person that I had more than one date with did the exact same thing as K. We had a few dates, and talked a lot for a few weeks while they were traveling and then they got back and told me they weren’t certain about me and how they had been comparing me to exes in their head, and because well, it had only been a few weeks - most of which were spent in different time zones - so clearly he should be certain of his feelings, but since he wasn’t his therapist thought it would be easier to end things. And, there is a little more to this one, but it’s not even worth going through all the layers, but it is interesting that the first person that I started to date would be exactly like the last person I dated 4 years ago. Sometimes patterns need to repeat once more before you break them for good.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a little affirmation in my phone. “I am in a loving relationship with someone who sees me, keeps me safe, loves me, desires me, supports me, and challenges me (and who loves the girls).”

And, here we are, today. A couple weeks ago, I decided to set my location to my mom’s. Turns out it was a smart move. I don’t know what will come of it, but I know that for the first time in a very long time, I am getting to know someone who is kind, open, steady, and safe, and I am excited to see what grows from this whim.

My point in sharing all this is that we all have our own patterns and wounds, and you don’t necessarily get to choose who hurts you or who loves you or how they do these things, but you do get to choose if you allow the hurt, the anger, and the pain to cause you to become bitter or if you allow to be the push that plunges you into a deep healing river.

There are good, kind, loving humans in this world. You deserve that. Don’t settle for someone who isn’t willing to meet you and appreciate how great you truly are.

Side note - It is possible to be vulnerable AND sensitive AND strong. In fact, vulnerability requires more strength than anything else, because it requires complete honesty and openness, not just with others, but with yourself. Being sensitive or vulnerable is not a weakness. It is a superpower.