The Fear of Something Healthy

I’m standing in my boyfriend’s bedroom, looking out the window at the street and neighbors. I had to grab my jewelry, and finish putting myself together to go and run some errands, when that little voice pops up in the back of my head. Something that popped up so many times early on, and still does now. Speaking, screaming, whispering, all telling me to run. Trying to cram that voice down, my partner enters the room to collect his things so we can leave, and we hug like we always do, before heading out. Over the next few moments it fades, and I feel safe again, but that feeling never lasts forever.

While scrolling through social media, I remember so often seeing posts and videos that talked about having a healthy relationship after abusive ones. They would talk about how after being in an abusive or toxic situation, a healthy relationship can feel scary, and I always laughed it off. I had been in multiple relationships which were incredibly abusive, and had an emotionally abusive upbringing, but had spent almost a decade with someone that I thought was healthy for me, and didn’t feel any of that. However, you can’t see the forest from the trees, and while not abusive, it was certainly neglectful, and I didn’t realize that until I made space from that person.

To which I find myself attached to someone now, and I can clearly say that it’s the healthiest relationship I could imagine building. Even on days when life gets in the way, we often can make the other laugh until our faces hurt. On days we don’t see each other, there are still things we do to show affection. While still having a sense of self, we’ve become each other’s best friends, as well as sharing romantic love. We are patient with each other, and show understanding through not just the day to day, but the obstacles life throws at us. Even through disagreements, we look at things without animosity, but as a learning experience. It takes effort, compassion, and genuine teamwork, as well as proving not only that a healthy relationship can be scary, but that love is a choice.

Particularly during the early months, while still absolutely riding the high of a new relationship, there was this constant feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things wouldn’t be this good forever, they couldn’t be. We had the hard discussions sharing our pasts and anxieties, and not only did we feel safe to speak about them freely, but just took them as another piece of the person we loved. Because we wanted to be able to create a transparent space, we both wanted to be more introspective, and explore our own feelings, rather than just look at the surface. It was welcome, and felt natural, but was foreign at the same time. Previously, trying to share had come with conflict, malice, and pain, so it was easier just to ignore it all. This was new, and novel, to go along with learning a new person, even though we’d been friends for so long already.

As months went on, we hit the obstacles of relationship milestones. Rather than the honeymoon stage of seeing each other as perfect, we had worries about how we would last due to things with the other. We saw faults and flaws, and rather than looking at them as deal-breakers, we talked about the best ways to work with them, making systems as a team. Problems that arose never became something that was one against the other, but both against the issue. We came out of disagreements feeling closer, relieved that what we anticipated would be a screaming match in our pasts was simply a moment of compromise, without accusation or harm. And still, the voice persisted. It can’t stay this good. They’ll use this to hurt me. I’ll just be made the villain again, and lose it all like every other time. Run now, and leave before they tear you apart.

There are times when I feel guilty for feeling that way. To have someone who finally puts just as much work into a relationship as I am, makes me feel loved, and shows me what healthy partnership can be, and my mind tells me to throw it all away. At the same time, when I think about him, our relationship, and the fun we have, I can’t help but want to share my life with him forever. To want to continue building together like we already have, because it really is something that not many people find. Truly, at my core, I know that we have the sort of thing together that people spend lifetimes searching for, hunting down, trying to make, and wishing on stars to experience.

So I don’t run, because a life worth living is a life worth the risk. I make the choice to continue loving him every day, in spite of that voice in the back of my mind, because love is about being vulnerable. Every day he shares himself with me in a way that helps me care for him, and I make the choice to love him for that, on the good days and the bad. We both invest more in ourselves, and each other, but rather than feeling more afraid, I feel safer with time. I feel more secure that maybe this is just a good thing, that healthy love on its own isn’t a situation that’s too good to be true. There is no trap, no plan of destruction, nor an ulterior motive to lure me in.

We have days where we both sit and cry together, thinking about the hurt we’ve gone through. There are many times when we see how wrong we were about how we are as people, because we’re no longer having to survive the situations we were in, but can function as ourselves. So many times we’ve seen how much we’ve healed from our pasts, and can see so much more about how far we have to go. That alone is at times intimidating and terrifying, to acknowledge how much damage and trauma one has been through, after having to just try and survive and keep going.

We’re on the path to getting better, in all ways that can be true. Slowly, we’re becoming better at being ourselves, and better at being together. We’re learning just how many of our thoughts are defense mechanisms, or coping strategies of our past, which we don’t need anymore. There’s so much we get to unlearn, and in response teach ourselves new more comfortable behaviors. It’s a lot of work, and it takes a lot of trust. Every day though, we get to make the choice to put in that work, and love in its most naked form. I don’t have to live in survival mode when it comes to my relationship and love, or hold that internal feeling of crisis anymore. I’m allowed to just relax into the safety of the partnership I help build, and someday, maybe, my mind will completely acknowledge that.