I rambled for nearly 60 minutes straight during therapy today. I laughed a lot, shrugged, frowned, thought, answered questions, pondered, and at 1:59 PM, with one minute left to the end of my appointment, I cried. For the 20 months I've been in therapy, I've only had two appointments where I didn't cry. My therapist tried to let me count this one, telling me that the tear didn't actually roll off my face until 2:00:15 PM. Nice. What brought the tears? This statement: I don't feel like such a failure anymore.
We spent the hour discussing this restless feeling and need for change I have stirring inside me. We talked about everything from dying my hair to moving states. I tried to explain this huge shift I feel inside myself and my need for the next phase or challenge. After a discussion of current events in my life we ended on the topic of relationships. With the recent experiences I've had, a number of realizations have clicked into place inside me, which ended in the above statement: I don't feel like a failure anymore.
For my entire life I have felt like a failure at relationships, at life really, but particularly at relationships. I couldn't seem to make anything work, particularly when it came to romantic relationships. I knew it was me. I was the common denominator in all of these dysfunctional, weird friendships and romantic relationships, so it must be me. And in a very real way, it was.
But what I've come to appreciate recently is the fact that it was them, too. I wasn't the only one with issues. All of the really poor behavior that I thought was normal, wasn't. The negative stars aligned and for a period of time and our issues feed off of each other.
Case in point: Dean. My senior year of college, Dean and I were inseparable. When I say that, I mean it. We ate together at least twice a day and went to the gym together five times a week. We took 2-3 road trips weekly to a neighboring town for fast food we couldn't get in our small college town. We made late night Frosty trips and did homework together daily. He showed all the signs he was interested in me, without actually taking it to the next level. I was convinced we were meant to be and it was just a matter of time until things progressed. One of the things that sealed that feeling for me were the late night phone calls. Dean would call me two or three times a week between 2 and 3 in the morning to engage in an hour or longer conversation about something. I loved it. I was certain the fact that he woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to talk to me was evidence of his soon to be undying love. When nothing ever progressed, I assumed it was me. Another failed relationship attempt from me. He obviously loved to spend time with me and was always telling me how amazing I was. The problem must be mine.
Yet - knowing what I know now, with the addiction experiences I have, I now look at this relationship VERY differently. Though we never dated, never kissed, never even held hands, in a very real way we acted out with each other. I have since learned that Dean had a very serious pornography issue during that time of his life. I could also produce a long list of men who would testify how arousing my voice is in the middle of the night. Though I wasn't having phone sex with him, I would masturbate when our conversations were over. And though I can't confirm he was doing the same thing, I can make an educated guess that he was.
This wasn't a case of me failing at a relationship. This was a situation where we both took advantage of the other, though neither of us probably knew that is what we were doing. Our issued aligned for a period of time. I used to be resentful and upset with him on so many levels, but what I feel now is compassion. I know how desperately I wanted my life to be different. I know how hard I tried to make things better in so many different ways. I know the depressing, trapped feeling of living a lie. I'm sad to know he, also, felt that way. I'm sad to know he might still be living that way. I couldn't have done anything differently. I didn't know any different. But neither did Dean. Knowing I made what seemed and felt like the best decisions I could with the circumstances presented to me allows me to have more compassion. I bet he feels like he did the same. How can I be mad or upset about that?
Putting all these pieces in place has significantly changed my life. I sat in therapy today and said, kind of casually, "I guess what I really want is an opportunity to have better, different types of relationships. They used to scare me before because I felt like a failure, but I really don't feel like such a failure anymore." The power of that statement overwhelmed me for a moment and the tears started. Everything inside me bore witness of the truth of that statement and I was overcome with a feeling of rightness, of authenticity, of congruency.
Only God can turn a victim into a victory. I believe that. And I'm counting today as one of those victories. Add another one to the win column.
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