I was twenty-five years old and had a wedding date set for the summer of 2018. The rest of my life had been planned out and I was ready to embrace it, even though I no longer knew who I was or what I truly wanted. Someone else was going to decide that for me and I was ready to let it happen. For five and a half years, I begged to be loved the way I craved so badly. I changed who I was to “belong” with the people who, in all reality, were never going to except me. I allowed someone to keep me hidden from their real life like a bad habit for far too long. Looking back, on what seems like another life and an entirely different person, I can understand why I let this self sabotage go on for so long. It was due to a sick combination of “daddy issues”, fear of abandonment and extremely low self esteem. I needed to be told I was loved by someone because I hated myself. If they weren’t going to volunteer that affection, I was going to cry and manipulate them, until I got it.
It wasn’t until there was finally a ring on my finger (the exact ring that had already been posted on my Pinterest board for three years) that I came to the realization, I need to be standing up for what I want. It was time to start getting real with myself, and the person I loved, about what I expected it our soon to be married lives. Unfortunately, too little too late. I already had the reputation of a pushover in our relationship, as did I in several other relationships.
Months before the wedding -the one that we kept holding off on planning- we finally stopped pretending that we wanted the same things. After five and a half years of argument, negotiation, sacrifice, put downs, yelling matches, blame, codependency, make up sex and waking up the next day pretending it didn’t happen, we got down to the ugly truth. It was one whole month of causally talking about breaking up. When we finally agreed it was over, I took off my beautiful rose gold diamond engagement ring, we went to dinner as happy as ever, came home (to the brand new apartment we had just signed a year lease on) and spent the night laying on our new Ikea couch, staring into each others’ eyes for hours. There were so many emotions seen in the reflection of his eyes; fear, heartbreak, sadness and at the same time, I was flooded with relief and contentment. We finally agreed on something. We were tired of fighting. We had spent the better half of our early twenties breaking one another. It felt as though we would spend the rest of them learning how to live without each other.
This blog is my beautiful ugly truth. It is all of the things I have learned since breaking off my engagement. In all of its uncensored, comical, embarrassing rawness. It is me finding my voice, and understanding when I should and shouldn’t yell it from the rooftops. Learning that my past doesn’t define me, but has helped shape me. If you’re reading through my words and laughing, crying, relating or even cringing, than I’ve accomplished what I’ve intended. If you get to the end of one of my blog posts and it is an eye opening moment for you, I will be even more thrilled. I want this to be a place where, in today’s instaworld of perfection, we are anything but that. We are real, strong, not afraid to stand up for what we need, never going to lie about how we’re feeling and never going to apologize for it.