Thanks, But No Thanks: What My Exes Taught Me

My last two relationships were... not good. 

The first was a six-year relationship. I will save the details of that relationship for another day, but in a nutshell: 

This man did nothing but leech off me. He did not work; he spent at least $700/month of my money on weed, convinced me to buy him an Xbox, PlayStation, a $1500 guitar, all his clothes, cigarettes, hygiene products, and food. He crashed my car, got it impounded, and increased my car insurance astronomically. I blew through all my savings (over 80k), had multiple utilities and credit cards go to collections, my credit score was down to 519, I was incredibly depressed and developed anxiety, and I gained 80 pounds. He would call me a bitch, cunt, an idiot, and tell me I couldn't leave him because he had nothing and nowhere to go. (When I did finally leave, he did become homeless. Boo hoo.)

The boyfriend of six years was so awful to me that after we broke up and I was looking to date again, any shred of kindness from a man made me giddy and love-drunk. We are vulnerable when we leave an abusive relationship - we have such low standards for ourselves and others. I developed crushes quickly, overinvested emotionally, and overlooked undesirable traits.

When my next boyfriend came along, he did things I hadn't experienced at all in six years with my ex, and it hooked me. I remember the day he opened a car door for me, I immediately texted my girlfriend and gushed about how amazing and sweet he was. When he bought me flowers, I thought, "This is everything. He is the perfect man!" When he transitioned from calling me by my name to referring to me as "beautiful," I thought, "I finally found the love I always wanted." Those three small things made me think this man was it.

What low standards I had back then. But I suppose that when you've been given nothing for six years by someone else, having doors opened, receiving flowers, or being called beautiful fills something in you that has been absent for so long. The expectations for how you should be treated are so low that anything at all feels like you're being spoiled and have won the lottery.

The beginning of the end was when I was his +1 to his friend's wedding. I can become overstimulated in noisy and busy environments, so after the ceremony and dinner, while everyone was drinking and dancing, I excused myself to take a breather. I wasn't even gone five minutes. When he came to find me, I was sitting alone on a chair outside the women's washroom. I needed a few minutes to myself. My boyfriend came up to me, saw a random guy 30 feet away who was apparently looking at me, and asked me who that was. I said, "This is your friend's wedding - I don't know anyone here but you." He accused me of flirting with this guy who wasn't even near me, and I hadn't even noticed until my boyfriend pointed him out.

I told him I didn't know the guy and hadn't spoken to him, and he hadn't spoken to me. My boyfriend wasn't convinced. After failing to make him understand that nothing had happened and I hadn't done anything wrong, I told him he was being ridiculous and got up to walk back to the party. He held me by the shoulders, looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, "I'm in love with you." Keep in mind, this was the first time he said those words to me. He was drunk and had, moments earlier, accused me of flirting with another man. Not exactly romantic.

Later that night, his sister, who drove us to and from the wedding, dropped us off at a bar. After a few drinks, I excused myself to the bathroom. When I came back, my boyfriend was sitting at a table with three beautiful young women whom neither of us knew. Um, excuse me? Rude. Anyway, I walked over to their table and sat down. The women seemed confused as to why my boyfriend was there, but they were pleasant. I don't remember what the conversation was about, but at some point, my boyfriend told them I was his girlfriend. He said we had gone to a wedding, and asked if they liked my hooker boots. The table went silent. I looked at my boyfriend and said, "You're an asshole."

I had spent a lot of money to find a dress and boots I would feel comfortable in. I don't like to show a lot of skin because I do not think I look good. He knew I was self-conscious. I was wearing a jacket, a dress that fell just above my knees, and boots that were a few inches below my knees, with a one-inch heel. They were $280, and it was my first time wearing them. I love those boots, but it's been two years since that night, and I haven't worn them again. I'm not sure I ever will.

When I called him an asshole, all the women's eyes turned to him. He was like a deer in headlights - frozen and silent. Without saying anything else, I stood up and walked outside. It was -20 and snowing. I stood outside, crying, and he did not come after me. He decided to stay and drink with the random women in the bar. After a few minutes, a cab driver pulled up outside the bar and asked if I needed a ride home. Everything was at my boyfriend's house, including the keys to my apartment. So, I got the cab to drive me to my boyfriend's house. I bawled the whole car ride.

When I got to my boyfriend's house, it was locked, so I sat on the steps outside his front door, crying. The few inches of skin that my dress and boots didn't cover were red from the cold. An hour later, I heard footsteps and saw him drunkenly stumbling up the street. He had walked home from the bar. He was hammered and gave a non-apology. Because I was cold, sick of crying, and he had told me just hours earlier that he loved me for the first time, I said it was okay. I just wanted to get inside. Once we got into our pyjamas, my boyfriend called his friend, whom I'd never spoken to or met, and invited him over. As soon as his friend arrived, my boyfriend passed out. So, I was left to entertain this stranger all alone after a heartbreakingly sad night.

Nothing was ever the same after that night. The magical "He is perfect and I love him so much!" feeling died. I realized my boyfriend had a lot of maturing to do, and because he was already 35, the maturing he needed to do was unlikely to ever happen. Also, this was a man who told me on our third date that he always thought he would be the old, creepy guy hitting on young, hot beer girls at the golf course. Gross.

We stayed in the relationship for another three or four months, but I knew he didn't truly love me, or at least not in the way I deserved to be loved. Then, one day, after ten months of being in a relationship, he ghosted me. The conversation before the ghosting was me explaining how deeply sad I was - that I loved him so much, but didn't feel that same love from him. I wanted to be with him and work on things. I wanted to know what I could do to bring back the man he was at the beginning of our relationship - the man who made it clear he was interested in me and seemed so curious to learn about me. The man who showered me with compliments, talked about going on a tropical vacation together, and would drop everything to help me when I needed him. I did not get a reply. 

I sent multiple texts, but he didn't acknowledge any of them. Silence is what I received. I had a bunch of things at his house, but I never got any of those things back. Finally, three weeks later, I sent one final text: "I get it now. I wish you had had the courage to tell me it was over." Still, nothing.

Seven months later, I woke up to a message from him. He apologized. He said he was sorry he hurt me, that I made him feel things he hadn't ever felt before, and he got scared. He panicked, knowing he had messed up in a big way, and didn't know what to do, so he did nothing. The longer the silence went on, the worse he felt, but he felt paralyzed, so he stayed silent. He said he had hoped I would reach out again to fight for him and our relationship. He said he would have preferred it if I had screamed at him - it would have shown him I cared. He said I was too good for him, that he loved me, and that he wanted another chance to do it right. 

Thanks, but no thanks. 

"Needs I Need in a Relationship to be Happy" - list my therapist helped me come up with

Yes, I chose poorly in the past. But not anymore. I now have a deeper understanding and appreciation for what it takes to maintain my peace. I have learned that I choose the treatment I accept from others. I choose who I give my time, energy, and effort to. I have put up with poor behaviour from men in the past, making excuses for them and staying in the relationship longer than I should have because I thought I had to earn their love, and I felt desperate for it. But those were mistakes I had to make so I could arrive at the place I am now, which is a place where I no longer tolerate people who are unkind or disrespectful. I am discerning and selective now: I no longer give undeserving people access to me.

These days, there are two options: add to my life or be excluded from it.

Trauma, intention, and healing yourself

Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes, and unfortunately, nobody gets through life without experiencing it in one way or another: childhood neglect, physical, sexual, or emotional abuse, bullying, abusive or toxic relationships, living with someone who has substance abuse or mental health issues, poverty, oppression, and on it goes. We all must deal with trauma, and it leaves its mark on each of us. We enter this world as innocent beings, but then people fuck us up, and we, in turn, fuck other people up (even though we do not intend to do so).

I used to think intention mattered, but it does not. Not really. People have done me wrong, and I have done people wrong. If I hurt you, that is what matters… it matters not that I didn't intend to do it. Intentionality is a beautiful thought, but at the end of the day, it means very little. 

And when it comes to healing from someone who has hurt me, ownership is the path to true healing. Even though I am not responsible for the pain and trauma I have gone through, I need to be the one to own it, and this is why: It is unrealistic to expect everyone who has hurt me to be accountable, apologize, and do the work to make it right. 

So, I have two choices: 1) I can continue to let their actions dictate and influence how I view myself and approach the world, or 2) I can accept I am the only one who can fix it. I choose option number two. My trauma is not my fault, but it is my responsibility to own it so I can heal from it. No one else is going to do it for me. 

Work Trip to Vancouver

The company I work for does not have an office in Alberta, so I work remotely. In March, I was flown to the head office in BC to attend the annual meeting and to meet the people I work with. It should have been an exciting opportunity, but I could not enjoy myself because I was not in a good place mentally. While everyone I met was lovely and kind, I felt constant anxiety and insecurity.

I did not enjoy myself because every experience was overshadowed by my inability to overcome imposter syndrome. I work with brilliant people and didn’t feel like I measured up. When I got home and had a few days to unwind and reflect, I realized I had wasted the trip and the opportunity to connect with incredible people. I promised myself I would do it completely differently if I could go again.

Three weeks ago, I was asked to come back. This time, I felt just as nervous as the first time. But the way I faced that nervousness was different. I did not let it overwhelm and consume me, and I vocalized it to those I love. They reassured me, and this time, I chose to believe them when they told me I would have fun. I decided to believe them when they told me I belonged.

Sometimes I should ignore my feelings. My feelings cannot always be trusted. I worry, and I think about everything that can go wrong. These thoughts are not helpful, are not based in reality, and ultimately ruin experiences that could have otherwise been enjoyable. Sometimes, it is best I ignore myself and instead listen to and believe those who love me.

This trip was a massive personal win because I let myself enjoy everything. I allowed myself to be present, social, and laugh. I got to see my teammate, met my new manager and a bunch of new coworkers, enjoyed a BBQ on the beach, visited the new office, participated in team-building activities, and went for dinner with people I did not know... and I felt like I belonged throughout it all.

When I got home, my parents picked me up from the airport, and when they asked how my trip was, I quickly replied, “It was awesome!” I struggle to talk myself out of anxiety and into being myself, but last week, I conquered that, and for the first time in a long time, I know I am stronger than the negative voice in my head. I do not know why that negative voice is so loud, but I am proud of myself for shutting it up.  

Why do I write?

My career is writing. I have had numerous jobs as a writer, and while they have all been very different, there is one thing they all have in common: me, Beth, and my personality, none of that can be found in the words I write. I write professionally for businesses. I write social media posts to increase brand awareness, website content for a new company, or user manuals so customers understand how to use a product. I love what I do for a living for two reasons:

1. There is a right way to write. I like rules, guidelines, and the idea I can make something “perfect” in terms of grammar, spelling, style, and syntax. My perfectionism shines in this profession.
2. Yet, writing is flexible. I think of it like a colouring book. I choose the picture I want to colour, and I choose the colours I want to colour with, but the goal is always to stay inside the lines. I get to choose the words and the sentence structure to convey the targeted message.

I admire writers who ooze flowery, descriptive language that produces elegant and angelic poetry. It comes so naturally to some people. Not me. That is not my style. I am not a poet, I have no desire to write a book, and I do not need to have my words mean anything to anyone. We all need to make a living; I write professionally because it is the most enjoyable way to earn money. 

I have never written poetries, scripts, or stories. I do not write for enjoyment. I never have. I write in this blog, where I do not earn a penny, and I have no readers, because something magical happens when I hone in on my emotions, process my thoughts and feelings, and put them into words. 

Before I get the words out, I often feel lost, alone, and broken. But when I have finally unmasked my feelings, and the words are in front of me, there is an emotional release that is unlike anything else. My heart, mind, and soul are connected. I feel at peace. I can appreciate unpleasant or painful situations and people for what they are: lessons. The truth is, writing is the only way I know how to figure out what the fuck is happening in my brain. 

I write because it is free therapy.

Radical Acceptance

I went through something two weeks ago that changed my life. It was the most beautiful and peaceful experience I have ever had. It was radical acceptance.

Radical acceptance means accepting everything about yourself, your current situation, your body, and your life without question, blame, or pushback. Far from condoning or embracing your current difficulties and situation, radical acceptance typically advocates accepting yourself and your circumstances to better move through and past them.

You simply… poof, accept everything. Radical acceptance feels like you are looking at yourself and your life from an outsider’s perspective, with no judgements and no attachments. You see everything for exactly what it is and feel entirely okay and at peace with it. You let go of the pain and move forward.

I used to hide all the raw and vulnerable parts of myself that I felt were undesirable or imperfect. I could not trust anyone because I was terrified of being judged, hurt, or abandoned. Being this way was not a conscious choice; my subconscious was protecting my ego. I was closed off, showed you only what I wanted you to see, and never felt secure in who I was. I did not know how to be myself, not even when alone. 

Since I experienced radical acceptance two weeks ago, I have become acutely receptive to emotional, authentic, and spiritual conversations. I want to connect with people in the most genuine way possible. I want to give and receive complete honesty, even if it is “ugly.” The more shameful your secrets, the more beautiful I find them; my secrets are no different. The stuff we hide is the stuff that makes us unique, fascinating, and extraordinary. 

These last two weeks, I have been open, vulnerable, and, most importantly, myself with everyone I have interacted with. I have this new, deep understanding that the people who are meant to be in my life will be, and those who aren’t won’t be. I cannot force anything, and I do not want to. 

Imagine you have a bead in your hand. You are so afraid to lose it that you squeeze your hand tightly around it—and it slips through your fingers. Or, you can keep your hand open, palm up, and have the bead on it—and it’s still there. Enjoy what you have when you have it but don’t become too attached to it.

Mental Health Awareness Month

May began with immense emotional pain and ended with so much healing; it is difficult to describe where I started and where I am now.

Life ebbs and flows: In periods of flow, life is easy and full of meaning and movement. But when life ebbs, we struggle against the current, fighting to grasp what is important to us.

For the past five years, I struggled against the current. The details do not matter, but it was too much. So to cope, I shoved the problems and pain down as far as possible. I feared if I tried to deal with any of the big issues, I would get stuck in my head and never be able to escape.

At the beginning of May, all the pain I had been burying for years said "fuck you" and smacked me in the face all at once. Finally, I had no choice but to work through everything I had been avoiding: the self-hatred, the bitterness, the embarrassment, the shame, the guilt, all of it.

I took three weeks off work and dealt with my shit. I had to. It was time. Through dealing with it, I have learned I need to be my priority, not some guy, job, or anything else. I have also learned it is great to stay busy so I do not get stuck in my head, but I need to spend time there every so often to sort through and deal with life before it snowballs.

I never thought I would be thankful for everything I have gone through these past five years, but here we are, and I am thankful for all of it. All the pain, suffering, sadness, and depression brought me to this new place of peace, contentment, openness, and acceptance. 

I will struggle against the current in the future, and I may not be able to get through it alone, but it is okay to ask for help. Above all else, I no longer want to be perfect; I want to be authentic. 

Never Tell Someone How to Feel

Someone I was once close with taught me an invaluable lesson. He was always there when I needed to get my emotions out. It did not matter what the emotion was—happiness, depression, rage, love, anxiety, uncertainty—he listened patiently, acknowledged my feelings, and gave me a safe space to discuss whatever I was going through. At the time, I did not appreciate how precious this trait of his was.

One day, he opened up to me. He confessed he felt anxious and horrible about something that just happened. I responded, "You don't need to feel that way." Then, without pause, he said, "When you feel a certain way, I don't tell you your feelings are wrong. Please give me the same courtesy." I was stunned into silence. I don't think I even apologized. I was so taken aback by how right he was. He put me in my place in such a kind way. As a person you trust, all I need to do is listen and be supportive.

If someone trusts you enough to be vulnerable and let you in on their feelings… don't make the same mistake I did. Instead, simply listen and be supportive.