Not long ago I shared with y’all my fledgling-obsession with list making. I turned twenty-five this April thus I’ve been rockin’ that number quite a bit. I posted a list a few weeks ago of –> “25” | Book Whore Confessions and my journal is dotted with random little lists of dog names I like, words I think are beautiful (yes, I know how nerdy that sounds), things I want to do around the house, and the to-be-read-books piling around my living room.
I’ve also been trying more and more to use my journal as a self-reflection tool instead of just an information dump. I’m not a terrible communicator (I have my moments) but I definitely write better than I talk – it helps to see things down on paper: tangible, right in front of me, and sometimes I don’t know exactly how I feel about something until I’ve written it down.
I decided to go more along the “personal” route and try to work through some of my thoughts on: A. Being single more than being in a relationship B. Addressing what it is exactly I want and C. Why I’m glad I’ve loved the people I have. I try to live by that whole “people come into your life to teach you things” rule. Whether it be good or bad, there was a reason they entered your life. Sometimes it’s nothing more than teaching you people are assholes but, hey, gotta take something away from it, right?
The longer I jotted things down, the more I realized I wasn’t bitter about the “wrong ones” I’ve encountered. I didn’t feel any hatred toward them. I didn’t feel any bitterness, no regret. In fact, most of them are happily engaged/married/having children and I feel nothing but thankfulness that they’re happy.
Yes, I’m serious.
I wrote 25 bullets total but that would make this post way too massive to swallow. (Ha.) Instead, I’m just going to share a few of the 25. Take note: these are my personal beliefs. Some of you might be able to relate, some of you – maybe not so much. I’m not saying I’m right or I’m wrong – this is just how I feel, ya dig?
Reasons I’m Glad I Fell in Love with the Wrong Guy
- I discovered a whole new level of my family’s devotion. I’m one of those lucky girls who grew up with a tight knit little familial group: we can talk about anything, we enjoy each other’s company, we’re fiercely protective of one another, my brother is the funniest human alive, my mother is the most creative/loving soul, and my daddy is literally the smartest person I know. When he left me broken hearted, my family had my back every step of the way and their shoulders were only a phone call/ten minute drive away. Always. (They’re freakin’ psychos but they’re the good kind of psycho.)
- I bought a puppy to fill in for some of the loneliness after I moved into my own space. At the time, I thought being on my own would help me deal with things at face-value. Turns out, I didn’t take it as well as I thought I would. Instead of being excited, I felt even more isolated because he “didn’t trust me to have my own house.” In the end, that puppy was the best investment I ever made. I let the guy I was crazy about walk out and I gained a best friend out of the deal – furry, cuddly support on those nights when I cried myself to sleep, a roadtripping buddy when I needed to take a drive, and constant laughter. Dogs can read your emotions – I swear, he grew up knowing exactly when I needed him most and still knows a year and a half later.
- I slowly came to grasp that just because there is a physical spark does not mean you should hold on tight when things are failing. Inner monologue: He might be a good kisser, he might turn you on on a whole new level; so what? Get over it. There are bigger and better out there, Brianna. Literally. (And they’ll choke you in a good way, not an emotionally suffocating way.) I felt so depleted mentally that I turned to our physical connection and used it as temporary burn relief. Not healthy. Not one bit.
- I learned where the line was between jealousy and possession. “Gentle jealousy” is attractive, ya’ll. I ain’t gonna lie. I am that girl. It doesn’t hurt every now and then to know someone still wants you all to themselves. Possession, though, possession is exhausting. It’s being curled up in the bathroom because you made yourself sick debating whether or not to go see your friends who you missed or dealing with being screamed at about being slutty. It’s ugly and it’s destructive. Although it was hard/degrading at the time, I’m glad I learned the red flags to watch for. I refuse to allow myself to ever be dis-valued that way or placed in that situation again.
- I found out tacos at two a.m. seriously taste the best, especially when you share them with someone else.
- I was alone, a lot. I used to be angry about that part – the amount of time I dedicated to someone who didn’t even notice I was drowning. Then I realized: I painted when I was sad. I devoured book after book. I wrote until my hand was numb. I scoured websites, staring at art for hours. At first, it may have been to just take my mind off him but in the end, him being gone carved my creative interests to an even finer point.
- I took interest in everything he did (mainly because I was crazy about him) but because of my interest I saw/learned things I never would’ve without him. Some of the best sunsets I’ve ever witnessed were in the passenger seat of his truck or on the back of the four-wheeler with him – times where I went to help him or watch him do something he loved. Even if he was the wrong guy, he was a good teacher and his intelligence always impressed me. He was never condescending when I was curious – he opened me up to asking questions, to not be afraid of not knowing something.
- I discovered I had the power to do things usually termed as “manly” – I learned things about my car, plumbing, door knobs, etc. He may not have been around much to help physically (in his defense, he did work a lot) but he helped me in a different way. He forced me to learn how to fix things on my own – or at least Youtube it and try.
- The way he treated me sent me running back to God. Don’t get me wrong – I still am far from a “perfect Christian” but the feelings I developed in the relationship (and after) shoved me right into the realization I had turned away from my beliefs. I felt worthless. I felt like I had nothing to give anymore. I felt completely alone. I hadn’t prayed in months. The first night I opened back up to God and begged Him to continue to love me…I felt an immediate rush of security/safety I hadn’t felt once in my whole relationship with the boyfriend.
- I now know not to give up any part of myself to keep someone’s love. I won’t ever turn my back on my family, my friends, my hobbies, my alone time, my self-reliance, or my confidence ever again just because my significant partner feels threatened. I’ve learned with time that someone who truly loves me won’t ever ask me to give up any of those things anyway. This situation works both ways, too – I could never ask anyone I loved to ever give up those things either. Not now that I know how it feels to break off a small piece of you and try to keep breathing.
- I will always love him. I’m just being honest here. He will always occupy a special place in my heart. Not every single second of a terrible relationship is bad, let’s face it. I fell in love with him for his sense of humor, his goofy/random ideas, his strength, his gentleness with animals, his big smile, and a ton of other reasons. It’s okay to still love him, I think.
It’s just time to move forward to a greater love.