I was determined not to write this post. I was determined to keep this off of my blog, which is generally reserved for book reviews and film analyses. I was determined not to let this affect me. I give up.
Loving people is a risk. I’m not just talking the oh-so-romantic, falling-for-you kind of loving people; I’m talking all the kinds. Loving your own mother is a risk, let alone loving people with no biological connection to you.
Most people think that I love others easily, and maybe I do, on the surface. I even love easily on a deeper level. What I don’t like to do, though, is something so pivotal for love and human relationships that it stops me from loving to full capacity seven times out of ten. I don’t trust people.
As much as loving people is a risk, trusting them is an even bigger risk. I marvel at myself that I can sit here, and through the remove of the internet, proclaim my trust issues. I can post extremely sensitive, dangerously personal things online that I can’t even tell to people that I’ve known for my entire life.
Mulling this over, I can’t help but think about “Exposed” by Emily Gould. In this 2008 NY Times Magazine article, Gould systematically examines oversharing on the internet and how it affected her life. I don’t like to be an oversharer on here, but there is something distant and safe about the New Post page layout on WordPress, like I can unleash my deepest secrets and no one will know except my closest internet friends.
And yet here I am, nothing to review, nothing to analyze but myself. At the start of last semester, I made myself a plan: I was going to overload myself with school work and the newspaper, maybe get a job, and I would not have to deepen any of my relationships. I would keep a (very) small handful of close friends in the loop, have maybe one person or two to talk to in case I needed advice or help, and there would be no new complications.
Last semester was my third semester at Nyack, my second year here, and I was terrified of becoming rooted. I wanted to be too busy to grow roots into people. I don’t think I sustain relationships well in person at all. Most of my close friends live so far away from me that I’m lucky if I see them once every couple of years. My deep relationships are sustained and exist entirely through the internet and telephones. I float in and out of places so quickly that there is little to no need to establish myself as a lasting part of a community. Burying myself in work seemed like the only way to cope with remaining in the same location for longer than a year. The very last thing that I wanted last semester was to develop my relationships to the people here, whether or not I love them dearly. It’s not a love issue; it’s a trust issue.
So when I didn’t get the job and got the guy instead, I had no idea what to do with myself. Barely a month into the semester, I started falling in severe-like. He liked me (?) too, and it was fun and new for a while. Fun and new and the scariest thing for me to ever do. Being in a romantically motivated relationship was something I knew that I was totally unprepared for. I was in so far over my head, and there was so much pressure. Pressure to trust.
Trust is a healthy thing. I am an unhealthy person. I know this. I decided after a few weeks that I needed to trust this other person, and I needed to let myself relax. After all, he wasn’t going anywhere (?) because every one of our mutual friends told me all the time how crazy he was about me (?) every time that I doubted it. Sometimes it was nearly every day that my one friend had to reassure me that he was actually interested in me, and not in manipulating me. But I knew that my fear of and inability to trust is unhealthy, so almost for my own good, I forced myself to learn how to trust.
Falling into trust was harder than I could ever explain, learning to like his physical presence and not want to run away was like learning to breathe under water–nearly impossible and requiring special equipment.
And I guess that even though things are over now, I am glad of the time that has passed with him. I am glad of the growth that we’ve both gone through as people. I am glad of the change he has made in me. David, you taught me how to trust myself and trust others. You taught me to not view myself as a burden to others. You taught me to love in a fierce and dedicated way. I’m overwhelmingly sorry that this didn’t work out, but you have done me so much good and I don’t blame you.
Life is a coin toss. We stand to win everything, but we also stand to lose the same. Sometimes you have to flip that coin as high as it will go and then not worry about how it falls until it does. None of this was a mistake.
Goheno nin, im gosta le melon.