The first step in AA is admitting you have a problem. It’s why people stand up at the front of the room and the first thing they do after introducing themselves is tell a room full of strangers what they’re addicted to. What ruined their life. What destroyed their family.
I must have been sixteen the first time I’d ever gone to a meeting. Not for myself. But for my dad. He’d been sober for maybe a year at that point, was just starting to sponsor someone else.
What struck me watching those strangers stand up in front of each other, it was their ability to just spill their guts like it was nothing. It was inspiring, as much as it was terrifying. Sitting in that group, continuing to shrink further down into my chair, I was afraid someone was going to point their finger at me next. Like I was the fresh meat in town.
You look like a new face. What’s your story?
My insides were molten lava. No way did I want someone to call on me. What it felt like was sitting in class crossing your fingers and toes, praying the teacher doesn’t call on you about some answer to the homework you didn’t even do.
The stem of all of that, I’m realizing, isn’t about anxiety or fear of public speaking. Maybe a little bit, sure. But, really, it’s deeper than that: It’s the fear of our own flaws. Looking at them in the eye and admitting that we’re not perfect.
All of us are so used to turning a blind eye to our own issues that, for some, those things never change. People instead see their flaws as personality quirks, afraid to call them what they are. Forcing others to deal with it, and dismantling friendships and relationships in the process. All because they refuse to accept boundaries.
Look, I get it, it takes balls to step up to your weaknesses. To face them head on. Because then it means you have to deal with them yourself.
I’ve learned a lot from previous relationships. Spending such a significant amount of time with another person means you learn pretty quickly what you want from a partner, what you don’t. You also learn how to emotionally exist with someone, which can have its own set of challenges too.
I’m in a healthy relationship, maybe for the first time ever. Not a I’m happy and we’re good for each other type of way (even though that’s the case too), but a relationship where there’s actual boundaries, where there’s communication without raising voices, or someone getting upset. Where we can actually talk about our feelings with compassion and empathy, free from judgement.
I don’t want that to come across as though every previous relationship I’ve ever been in was littered with issues (some of them have been). Because that’s not what I’m getting at here. The thing is, I grew up in a household where my emotional needs weren’t met. Where conflict was resolved by my dad yelling, putting his foot down. I wasn’t allowed to have feelings. I was belittled, mocked, and had my emotions downplayed.
How this cropped up in past relationships looked a lot like continually swallowing down my hurt. Putting up with things I wasn’t comfortable with, or that bothered me, because I didn’t want to cause problems, to keep the peace. Maybe that would soothe the inner child in me that was afraid of getting yelled at. Plus, if someone was giving me the attention I’d craved and never gotten, it was a way to “prove” that my partner cared.
The problem is, my childhood circumstances now make me look at communication and emotional needs in a way that’s flawed. I was finally getting things out of my past relationships that I never got growing up. And that worked for a while because it was filling a part of me that had always been neglected. My previous partners, their childhoods were sprinkled with their own issues that, for the most part, played nice with my own. We were able to feed off of our dysfunction in some weird symbiotic exchange that we assumed was healthy because it felt “fine”. Even if there were clear issues we were ignoring.
And then I got into the relationship I’m in now.
Let me tell you, I read an article recently about how healthy relationships make you look at yourself differently. And I think about it often, because it couldn’t be more spot on. Good god.
Very quickly I realized how terrible I was at communicating my own needs. And how emotionally demanding I was. I was so used to doing things in a way that continued to feed the false needs that my inner child hadn’t healed from, that when I noticed those things weren’t happening, it seriously rocked my world.
“Needy” is not the word I would have ever associated with myself in a million years. But when someone is consistently meeting you halfway and you’re left feeling like even that’s not enough, it quickly forces you to realize just how much more inner work and healing you still have to do.
It’s a great thing and a horribly daunting one.
Because now that I’ve had that curtain lifted, there’s no unseeing it. I can’t see myself without those things because they are not separate from me.
They are me, and I’ve just never noticed.
One of the most frustrating parts of this journey is trying to figure out how to deal with those flaws because there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. For someone like me, who has a solid grasp on about three major emotions, this means learning not just how to identify and sit with my emotions, but also what it means to feel them. Growing up and being laughed at for feeling sensitive, it makes this whole process extremely difficult and unnatural for me.
But the good thing is that it’s working. I’m starting to finally have a better grasp on the way different emotions feel, what they mean, and how to navigate them.
It’s even made me reevaluate how I think about my friendships, the way I want people to communicate with me in general, and what my own personal boundaries are when it comes to all of my relationships. Now, thinking about it, I don’t know that I even had any boundaries in the past. Which is kind of crazy for me to say out loud. But it’s always just been easier to go with the flow and turn a blind eye to the things that upset me rather than to stand my ground and say no to something, especially if I know it’s going to be an uncomfortable conversation.
And I guess that’s where the whole healthy relationship part comes into play. Because when you have someone willing to listen with compassion and understanding, that fear of being dismissed, of being told you’re being silly and dramatic and stupid, it suddenly melts away. Okay, it’s not that easy. I definitely still have a hard time bringing up when something upsets me. And I still have a horrible habit of apologizing for literally everything. But, I’m slowly getting better at it.
Being loved isn’t about how much attention someone gives you, or how well they treat you, or whatever other shallow reason people like to throw out there.
Unconditional love is about someone seeing and hearing you as you truly are, holding up a mirror to you, and then giving you the safe space to grow as a human. To make sure that you become the most ultimate version of yourself. Because when you love someone, you want the best for them, even if it means painful growth.
And, yeah, I’m not going to lie: It hurts. The realization and the growing. It sucks, really. I get why people look away, refuse to see themselves as they truly are.
It’s hard to make changes to things that have been imprinted onto your brain for your entire life. I’m going to make mistakes and fall into old habits. I’m going to stumble and recover. But the important thing is to continue recognizing the patterns that trigger old emotional responses and dealing with them in healthier ways.
I didn’t expect to be writing such a personal post here, but it’s something that I’m still very much navigating. And if it helps even one other person to look at themselves objectively, I’m all for it to be out there in the open.
I guess what I’m getting at with all of this is that it’s good to see yourself for who you are. Bad parts and all. Because that’s the only way to initiate change.
Sometimes all it takes is a special person to shine a light on those hidden parts that you might not otherwise see.
And admitting to your own flaws, that’s the first step to healing.
I love you so much. You’re incredibly strong and I know you worked hard for that resilience. I’m grateful every day to be able to wake up next to you and walk this journey together. You’re never alone. You see me, I see you and even in our flaws, there is love. Thank you for also helping me grow and healing the parts of me I’ve kept hidden🖤
Dude, you seriously have to make me feel An Emotion on a random Tuesday? But, yeah, you said a lot here that hits home. Also, I'm so happy for you, and proud of you for being able to share like this.