As girls, we are taught that we need someone else to be whole. A boyfriend, a father, a husband, a Prince Charming of sorts to protect us, love us, complete us.
When I was in high school, my dad very suddenly left my family to move across the country and marry another woman. As a fifteen-year-old girl, this was beyond confusing. A dad was supposed to be someone who always chose you. Mine didn’t. I internalized his decision, filing it away as a reflection of who I was: hard to love, easy to leave.
I looked for other relationships to fill the void he left: a void I thought could only be filled by someone else. I found myself putting everything into people who didn’t put nearly as much into me. I was convinced that feeling alone in a relationship was far better than actually being alone.
Time and time again, over multiple years and different people, I would go to bed anxious, nervous I would be abandoned yet again. The fear manifested in my last relationship. I grew too scared to bring up moments I felt let down, worried my feelings would push him away. I stopped telling my closest friends certain things he would do or say, terrified they would suggest being without him. I convinced myself every problem was my fault, taking everything as my responsibility to fix. The more he hurt me, the more pain I took, and the harder I tried.
Until one day, what I feared most came true. He left. Yet again, someone who I loved and trusted with everything I had walked away. The abandonment from my dad I’d been masking came flooding back. I had even trusted this person enough to be open about the impact my dad’s actions had on me. He knew the pain of being walked away from so suddenly, so easily. And still, he was able to turn around and do the exact same thing.
I’d never felt more unlovable. How else could I interpret two of the most important people in my life choosing to leave? I stopped eating and taking care of myself. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. They hadn’t only left; they had also taken my self worth with them.
I was finally forced to face the pain and work my way up from rock bottom. As I recover from these losses, I’m spending a lot of time with myself. I’ve been doing things I hadn’t been in my relationship, like catching up with friends, going on long runs, journaling everything. As terrifying as it seems, I am beginning to take back my identity and figure out who I am alone.
Each day that goes by, I realize that no one can take away what makes me me. These people were huge parts of my life, but they were not who I was as a person. Every day without them, I rediscover a part of myself that I love, or find something new that brings me happiness.
I still experience a flood of different emotions, but I’m learning to be kind to myself. Rather than get frustrated that I still feel hurt, I speak to myself like I would to a friend. I tell myself that in order to experience so much hurt, I must have the ability to love people so deeply. And that is something no one can never take away.
So this Valentine’s Day, rather than focusing on giving this love to someone else, I’m going to give a little back to me. I am going to love myself extra for the person I am becoming through this turbulent journey of healing, and for the person I’ve always been who has gotten through so much.
Because this void inside of us has been lying all along. We have simply forgotten that we are capable of filling it ourselves.