When 18-year old me found out that my family wanted to take a summer trip to Peru for a month, every inch of me feared being away from my new boyfriend, so you can imagine the pure anxiety that engulfed my mind when I found out I would have to do long distance with him for the next five years.
He had stayed home in Vancouver and was in the process of taking a gap year while I travelled back to Toronto to start my second year of university. Upon waving the dreaded ‘goodbye’ to him, I stayed up all night in tears, wondering how I was going to possibly survive being in a different time zone away from him. Being so attached to him and his company meant that the idea of not seeing him for months at a time casted sheer terror on my plans for the upcoming semester.
As someone who constantly overthinks every aspect of their daily life, it became increasingly difficult for me to understand that the issues I had built up in my head were non-existent to my partner. I quickly became so obsessed with the idea that he would either forget about me or think that I was too clingy. Day by day, a routine was beginning to form. I would wake up, go to the gym in my apartment here in Toronto, and wait for him to wake up at home in the three-hour time difference. Then I would go to class and message him throughout my lecture while I multitasked taking notes (I don’t recommend this). During the afternoon, I would FaceTime him during or after dinner and text him until I went to bed, before the cycle would restart the next morning. I soon came to the realization that instead of allowing myself to truly get out and immerse myself in the campus experience, my new lifestyle revolved entirely around keeping in touch with him.
When you’re with your partner in-person, you have the opportunity to switch on a movie and just enjoy each other’s company in silence, however, you don’t necessarily have the same luxury when 4,000 miles apart. This quickly resulted in me feeling the need to be exchanging messages with him every second of every day. Put simply, I had been so keen on keeping our conversation alive so that I could feel more connected to him. One of the most valuable pieces of advice I can give you is to not do this. My boyfriend and I quickly found that there were only so many times we could say ‘I miss you’, and only so many times we could ask each other what we had eaten for breakfast that morning; it was always the same answer: oatmeal for me, eggs and toast for him. The most excitement in our conversations happened if I had decided to change up the fruit I had added to my oats that morning. This was because since we had spoke so often, there was never anything ‘new’ to talk about.
Trying to adjust to our new relationship was an excruciating kind of pain. Something that I never wanted to have to figure out and something that I never wanted to experience firsthand. I knew it seemed silly to many. I mean, there are so many other important aspects to life, so many things to enjoy. But as time passed, I longed for things to go back to how they used to be; when the hours we spent together felt like seconds instead of how the days spent apart felt like years. I wanted a shoulder to cry on, and I didn’t think that my laptop keyboard could last any more water damage from all of the tears. Besides, I didn’t have Applecare!
Things began to grow heavier on the both of us, carrying each other’s worries and bad days on our backs; I felt like I was drowning under the pressure of maintaining a perfect relationship. Misunderstandings and miscommunications quickly broke out into online fist fights, slamming laptop screens closed instead of doors. I felt trapped, scared that our relationship would never be the same again. Part of me wanted to give up, before he had the chance to do so first. My mind was always racing, questioning whether he was still happy and whether he still thought I was worth all of this.
Week by week, time passed at an agonizingly slow pace until we reached March. The pandemic had worsened and I was due to fly home early, but what was supposed to be an exciting moment, was instead turned into an intense sense of panic. What if he was planning on breaking up with me as soon as I landed?
My head was engulfed by a wave of self-created concerns as my plane touched down on the runway, completing the 3,364 kilometre trip. After anxiously enduring the drive home, I sat on edge, eagerly waiting to see my boyfriend’s car pull into the driveway. Upon standing in front of each other, we melted into the present and left behind any conflicts we had priorly faced. I didn’t care about the past, seeing him in front of me without the need for a screen made everything worth it.
Fast forward through the summer and my partner and I were due to part ways again. This time he was the one travelling off to the East coast, while I stayed back at home to study online.
We have only just begun our new long distance endeavour, but after communicating (and constant reassurance on my end), we are starting to figure things out. After all, relationships aren’t about the distance put between you, they are worth the strength and trust that they hold. Instead of casting a negative energy over the circumstances, I’ve come to appreciate the time we have apart. Although this is the only form of social distancing that I do not want to get on board with, knowing that I will have valuable time to spend with him sometime soon allows me to focus on bettering myself independently. Plus, with all of the Zoom lectures we have sat through recently, things are starting to feel a little more normal.