by: Korie Houston
Houston we have a problem. It’s been one year since the red stain made its mark across my heart. One year of life lessons, heartaches, questions with no answers and trying to find myself among the wreckage. I’ve learned a lot about myself and still have a plethora of things to learn. Does one really know themselves after tying their identity to someone else for so long?
For those of you who don’t know, one of the main reasons this column exists was for me to just be vulnerable. I needed an outlet and a space to just call my own. I was in a relationship I found fulfilling for my life and one where my needs were met. But the person who I was with wasn’t happy. He wasn’t fulfilled and he certainly wasn’t honest with me about those feelings until I felt it was too late. When that honesty came, it left me reeling in a very dark mental state, which I couldn’t begin to explain. I spent my money, energy and tears to make the feeling go away. No amount of therapy or numbing the problem at the bottom of a tequila shot was going to make me feel whole. Therein lies the problem. I learned through the wreckage that I was always whole and a relationship should not be what defines me.
We recently talked about closure and my belief that no one but you has the answers you’re looking for. That also rang true for me during this inevitable heartbreak. I thought to myself for numerous months, “Am I that awful of a person to love?” I questioned my self worth and my ability to even love again. When people asked me regularly, “Are you okay?” I always answered, “No, but I will be.” The truth is I didn’t know the answer no matter how many times people told me they believed I’ll be just fine. I didn’t believe it.
At the heart of all of this, while I had to pick up the pieces of my life in the name of moving on, I also had to watch as he did so. I wasn’t silent for a time but after a while I had to learn to cope because that’s the adult thing to do. Even if one object of his affection at one point or another gave me dirty looks in crowded spaces or decided to “Regina George” me at the club because she thought she’s an apex predator or something; I still was expected to hold my head high. Even when he unexpectedly came into one of my work spaces several times; I was expected to hold my head even higher.
Through these actions, I told myself that maybe I did deserve to feel so low, just so he could go on and search for his version of happiness; and in choosing to write this column maybe I’m living in victimhood. There were no score counts, just hurt feelings and trauma. But the reality of all of this is, him choosing how to live his life should not affect me. Living my life required sacrifice and growth that I wasn’t ready for and I learned that no one is ever ready to grow up, but learning how to heal is part of the growth.
So one year later I’m ready to tell myself that I never needed the relationship. I’m ready to say that I actually am doing okay. Even the moments that still feel a little shaky and I prefer someone would hold my hand through, I’m still reminded that a relationship isn’t the only thing I’m meant for.
I leaned on the friendships that I had curated and held onto, past and present (and the future ones that I will create), which helped me learn that I wasn’t alone in the ways I thought I was.
It was my chosen family that got me through it all, including the bartenders who gave me space, the therapist who challenged my worldviews, and the brother going through the same turmoil I was. I took these relationships for granted in the name of a love that didn’t exist but these relationships held me closer than I had experienced before.
When the earth shakes underneath you and you feel you’re about to crumble from the weight of it, how do you save yourself?
I decided that with all the hardships I was experiencing, to just let myself go because the version of me that existed to benefit someone else wasn’t worth mending my heart for. I previously referenced the story of Icarus, the boy who before burning out decided to reach for the sun. Icarus’ light went out but mine did not. Within the realms of mythology Phoenixes can rise from the ashes of what once was and although I am not a mythical creature, something better came out of the fire that was my life.
I learned that I can love myself better than another person can. To trust in myself when it feels safer not to. I decided to see more of the world and not limit myself to the boundaries of where I live. Above all else, even knowing that I have the capacity to love again, I’ve learned that just because I want something that’s out of reach, it doesn’t mean that I should reach for it unless it’s for the pursuit of my own happiness. Pushing my limits isn’t fulfilling. Dreaming of a better tomorrow doesn’t change today, but I can still have hope.
One year later, I’m also ready to say the burden of truth is that several can exist at one time and the cost is your choice. Living in the past is a place that no longer exists and one I can’t afford. With so many questions I’ve posed for myself, do I at least finally have answers?
Who are you underneath the armor? What lessons have we learned? Is there a way to heal scars that don’t cause more? Does falling in love make you lose sight of reality? If everyone says the same harsh truth, was it ever really about you?
The answer I finally have to it all is just quiet the noise and allow yourself to reflect on the roads you’ve traveled and the new ones that lie ahead. I will never have the answers I wanted but I have the ones I needed.
One year later as a callback to all of my columns, I think of it all as love letters to myself and a reminder that I deserve to be loved the same way I give to others.
–Korie Houston is a local social justice advocate. Reach him at [email protected].
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