Disassembly Required
Healing has been a lonely process. The more I dig into my own trauma the more I seem to find conflict with those around me. The reason for this is counter-intuitive. This is happening because I have built connections on a foundation of personal boundary violation. Until recently I had no idea what personal boundaries were. I feel compassion for younger me, building relationships on compromised values and resentment. They never really had a chance.
The pandemic placed all of my connections in a pressure cooker. At the end of last summer I also came out as transgender. This forced me to look at my past through new eyes. The more I looked, the more I saw, the more work I did, the more I changed. Many of us were forced into isolation with a single romantic connection, and these connections bore the brunt of the uncertain and constantly changing societal landscape. All things considered, I suppose we never really had a chance either.
I chose a fairly new romance to isolate with. From the beginning I had been lost in the conversational ride this new person brought to the table. I admired his fervor for verbal exploration as well as his well read mind. He could talk for hours, and I would mostly listen. If I knew then what I know now about my own needs I could have done better in setting us up for success. I was lost in this person. Actually, I was lost under this person, and that was problematic. I would often come away from our interactions feeling drained but would chalk it up to the NRE and keep moving. When the pandemic locked the world down the thought of not touching one another was strangely romantic. The contact rules and fear of societal judgement did a number on me in this way, casting me into forced monogamous patterns. Through no fault of his own, my voice was often lost under this love’s knack for one way conversation. I elevated his thoughts and his voice and allowed mine to fall to the way-side.
I was lucky to find my counsellor.
As I began to shine a light on the ways my voice was devalued when I was younger, I began to feel intense rage. I was aware that this was a step towards setting healthy boundaries and communicating in ways that asserted my own value, but I also knew that the rage was going to start showing up when I felt old patterns taking over. I did my best to communicate this but was shocked at how often I found myself lashing out at this person who loved me. The rage eventually burned away, but it left us with a crumbling structure. It felt like we no longer knew how to have a conversation. No matter what the topic was, I would eventually feel as if my opinion was not being considered, or my voice was not being heard, and dissociate or become combative. This became the pattern; conflict that was recurrent and heated.
I know that my love did his best to try to meet me where I was at. I can imagine how difficult it must have been to see and feel me shifting so rapidly, looking and holding myself differently every time we met. That must have felt lonely. . . and scary. In a time when we were required to hold one another, his anchor was adrift. I can see how he would have had to start over each time we came together, to find new footing and new ways to relate. I empathize with how disrupting that must have felt. I know you did your best.
I hope to eventually find a new way to love one another, but for now we exhale the romance and try to find a way to inhale repair.
The pandemic was a catalyst for me. It placed a magnifying glass over my life and I had no where to run. It tried its hardest to set me back, to put me into the box where society seems to think I “belong,” and now I am fighting and clawing my way back to myself. I know many of you also struggled in the same ways I did over the past year. Please know that I see you, and I hope that you have the support you need to heal the things that pull you into those dark places. If you are in need of resources please reach out. You are not alone.
The work is worth it.
You’re worth it.