Eat your Ego

As a millennial who strives for growth, I’ve recently asked myself:

Where is the fine line between the desire to grow, and the creating (not finding) of yourself? How often do we mould our own characteristics to invite a positive response from another person? Here’s the unraveling of my experience…

After a far from average breakup in 2018, “devastating” wasn’t an appropriate word to define my agony. I went into an unexpected survival mode. I went through my daily routine of work, tears and screams, and finally marked a milestone date in my calendar. It was the first day in a whole month that I didn’t cry.

Leading up to this milestone, I allowed myself to feel my feelings, daily. I allowed myself to sail through the storm of my redundant and offensive emotions. One promise I made to myself when I fell into this “survival mode” was that I would feel everything. I didn’t want to cower away from my emotions, and I didn’t. It was painful—felt unbearable—but I did it. I can’t believe I did and I’m so proud of myself.

During this traumatic time, I struggled. I struggled with more than my relationship ending. I questioned my character and who I was as a person. I questioned my morals. I questioned my effort in the relationship and reflected on my contribution to the failure of it. I never stopped reflecting. Reflection felt like somebody pushing me into a room full of people, where I was expected to perform a speech on a topic I had no knowledge about. That’s the discomfort I felt. The resistance was strong, but I knew I needed to face it to grow, and once I started, I felt addicted.

I prepared myself for the rush of what I forced myself to confront. Before dissecting my ex-partner’s actions, I asked myself:

What did I do in my relationship for this to happen?

This doesn’t mean I attracted his inconceivable behaviour. I just knew that I held responsibility for the end of our partnership. Both people always do.

The truth is, I have beautiful, genuine qualities. Among others, I am thoughtful, encouraging, inspiring, motivational, and loving. The truth is also that, at the time, I projected my own unhappiness and distress onto the relationship. Onto him.

I had toxic traits. I was passive-aggressive at times and often expected him to read my mind. I was unrealistic with my expectations. I was sometimes selfish and entitled. I took advantage of his kindness. I noticed myself doing these things and I would apologize but repeat the behaviour. So, did I really mean those apologies? Yes, but not enough to change.

Before I accept all of the blame, he had plenty of areas that desperately warranted growth. Did I mention them, ever? Yes. Did I feel like he was working on those areas? Not really.

Instead of leaving the relationship, I decided to stay. I grew resentment and projected that resentment onto him during our relationship and that’s on me.

I believed in the potential of our relationship more than the reality of our relationship and that proved to be toxic. It was my responsibility to walk away and I chose to sit in comfort instead of exposing myself to any form of discomfort. Did I really avoid discomfort, though? In hindsight, I sat in the discomfort I was familiar with.

There is too much time invested in this relationship, I thought.

It’s all I knew and what a waste it would be to end it.

He clearly loves me and would do anything for me, and that’s enough, I thought.

Love on its own is never enough, though.

What I have learned since:

A couple should want to grow together and before you grow together, it’s important to grow individually.

Explore your interests. Explore your strengths. Explore your weaknesses. Encourage your partner. Encourage yourself. And listen. Always listen. Get used to evolving your mindset rather than saying, “this is who I am.”

We evolve and change when we want to, so when we don’t want to, it’s not because we can’t. It’s because we choose not to. If we choose not to, then maybe the compatibility isn’t strong enough. Maybe we wish to be comfortable. Whatever the reason is, evaluate what you want and resist the urge to drag out what you are not happy with.

The cycle I adhere to through life is: reflect, accept, forgive, do better.

Sometimes we’re right, sometimes we’re wrong. Sometimes we’re selfish. Sometimes we’re selfless. Sometimes we’re proactive. Sometimes we’re reactive. Sometimes we care too much. Sometimes we don’t care at all.

Life is not black and white, though. We’re human and we’re totally going to mess up. The takeaway is to take responsibility. It’s to want better for yourself and your relationships. It’s to remove yourself from relationships that no longer add value to your life. If you repeat a pattern in your relationships, question it. Dig for the root of why you behave the way you do.

A profound discovery I made was realizing how intimate a relationship with myself is. I can observe my thoughts, emotions and actions. I can question them however I want without anyone being a part of it. I can show vulnerability and let my guard down with myself, and have the most private form of reflection. There is so much power in trusting and being true to yourself. It feels uncomfortable at first, but it’s important to understand yourself without judgement. You can control that when it’s a dialogue with yourself and no one else. This can be in the form of silent reflection, talking out loud, writing in a journal—anything.

Fast forward to my introduction to dating.

I had never properly dated before. After all, I was in an eight-and-a-half-year relationship that commenced at nineteen years old. But there I was, on the dating apps for the first time. I felt like I time travelled because I skipped to the modern way of dating— going on the apps.

I was excited to meet new people, matched with some guys and felt confident. I didn’t realize how common that actually is, though. I went on some dates and I knew I gave everyone a chance even if I wasn’t interested.

I ended up dating someone for months and my self-worth was so low at the time that I gave every toxic act the benefit of the doubt. I remember telling myself that I was so opinionated and strong-minded in my previous, long-term relationship, that I made a vow to myself to be more open-minded and submissive. I wanted to try harder.

It didn’t work out and it’s because I developed a greater sense of self-worth. Moving forward, I made a promise to myself to empathize with my partner and simultaneously listen to my intuition with what I deserve and want.

This is easier said than done because although my dating experiences progressively got better, I still contort parts of myself to match the traits or opinions of someone I like.

I start off confident, fun, happy and authentic. The moment my feelings start to grow, I go into a survival mode that I didn’t acknowledge until recently. I dim myself out of fear that I may be too much for that person. I become robotic and the very opposite of what I anticipate, happens: they lose interest. I am aware of this, though.

Not everyone we meet is meant for us and perhaps I would have discovered that sooner had I been myself right from the start. The wild part is that I actually believed I was being myself, that I was “going with the flow” during the dating process. Little did I know that because of my past, I learned to suppress wonderful parts of myself so that I wouldn’t repeat any dominant, potentially toxic behaviours I once had. I continue to remind myself that my past self is only a version or chapter of me. Intentional growth is profound, and this realization was enlightening.

Friends told me that my guard was up so high, I wasn’t myself. I felt the opposite and was surprised by the energy I put out. I believed that my laid back, casual dating behaviour reflected the traits of a stable, understanding and compromising partner. The reality is, I subconsciously focused on how the people I dated perceived me. I focused on not losing them. It never crossed my mind that the person I’m with shouldn’t want to lose me either. I know it’s linked to the end of my long-term relationship. It was easy for him to treat me like I didn’t exist after loving me so deeply. Without realizing it, I placed myself in a category that had me desperate to prove my worth and ability to compromise. I only accepted that I’ve been doing this during my more recent dating experiences.

To revert to one of the first paragraphs, the acceptance of this felt like I was being pushed into a room full of people again. To perform another speech on a topic I knew nothing about. I didn’t want to accept that this is what I had been doing because it would mean that the past three years of dating were not as progressive to my personal growth as I thought they were. I dated with the belief that I had my shit together. I believed I was confident and reborn. I thought I had already put in the work, but I just delivered the opposite behaviours of what I showed in my previous relationship, even if they didn’t embody me. I couldn’t help but get upset and blame myself for wasting valuable time to truly be myself. I couldn’t believe I didn’t realize sooner what I had been doing.

I won’t sit here and minimize the work that I have put in. I made so much progress, and it’s different for everyone. Part of the progress is that I broke another pattern I noticed. That’s important! I came out of a dark place and somehow held on to optimism. I made it to where I am, on an imperfect, zig-zagged route. It’s simply a process. Building self-worth and personal growth is a lifelong process. It’s never a waste. It’s not something we work on to satisfy one area of life, either. It’s to maximize our relationship with ourselves and how we connect and respond to life, every day.

I’m grateful to be in a headspace where I can reflect, accept, forgive and do better for myself and the relationships I care about.