a hopeless romantic
this is a post about valentine’s day & about love. read with caution tender hearts.
i used to describe myself as a hopeless romantic. i didn't get into my first ‘proper’ relationship until I was 29, i had spent nearly 3 decades on a diet of cishet romcoms, binging other people’s monogamy & wondering why i couldn’t find the one person who could complete me.
and then i found him. and it nearly destroyed me - because there is no one person to complete you. it took me nearly 4 years to realise that i was trying to earn a love that shouldn’t ever have to be earnt. love can only exist when freely given. that’s not to say that love isn’t work - because it is. it is daily work, but it has to be done for you and for you alone. I was willing this person to love me as much as i loved them, working harder and harder constantly searching for this unobtainable thing that they were physically incapable of giving me.
for the past 4 years we had a mantra: “i don’t need you, i want you’. what had started off as the truth and a commitment to not overcommitting quickly became a lie (for me at least). I repeated it daily, almost willing myself to believe it. he became my everything. my best friend, my counsellor, my editor, my lover, my teacher, my everything. it was not healthy.
he gave up first. Thank god he did. If he hadn’t ended things i think we’d still be together and everything i loved about myself would be gone. I had been making myself smaller and more palatable since the moment we met. I joined in his choruses of ‘not all men’. I only once pointed out that he only listened to male musicians. I stopped showing my joy physically - i no-longer slapped my knees with excitement as the curtain went up on a new play i was seeing, i no-longer listened to the musicals which made me fall in love with theatre. And most worryingly of all - i started to believe him when he said he was right and i was wrong. about everything.
by the time we broke up, on valentine’s day 2023 - i was a shell of a person. he is a brilliant brilliant man, but he should not have been my brilliant brilliant man & i think deep down we both knew that - but by now i was far too scared to be alone, after all i was wrong. about everything. how would i get through the world without his protection?
the answer was simple: i would get through the world without his protection simply because i had to. because there were no other options. because maybe he was actually something i needed to protect myself from.
i still remember the exact moment it hit me, standing by the corner of my bed i remember watching the walls of my life come crumbling down. i felt dizzy. i felt sick. i sat down. i threw up. i cried. i called my mum.
i’m not a mummies girl, it takes a hell of a lot to ask my parents for help - but one of the things he taught me was to let my parents in more. to appreciate my family more. and here i was, making him so proud… or i would have been had we been talking at all. i had to cut contact off cold after running away from him 3 minutes into a catch up chat at vegan chicken place. seeing him smiling and surviving 3 feet in front of me as my entire life was in shambles only further exacerbated the difference between our love. we had been in two separate relationships with each other. me with the love of my life, him with just another girl.
those first few months are a blur. i made numerous attempts on my life & i left my flat only for emergencies. without him what was the point anyway? our lives were so intertwined that my friends either ‘chose’ him or couldn’t deal with my depression so thankfully i was left alone.
Fast forward to 2 years later, and i have done so much work, thanks to my excellent therapist. i am in 2 loving relationships. i am surrounded by friends who i am more open with than i ever used to be. i tell them i love them everyday, and i am working on loving myself, which is hard in a transmisogynistic world that wants me and my sisters dead.
i’d try and describe to you just how i put the work in and exactly how ive grown, but in all honesty its just a boring story. i had to unlearn all the transmisogyny that was within me, i had to learn to forgive myself for past mistakes & also to forgive others who weren’t able to support me. we’re all fighting our own battles, and we will continue to do so - whether we’re in loving relationships or not, whether we’re transexual or not and whether we admit it or not.
i used to describe myself as a hopeless romantic, but when i look at the community i’ve built for myself and the friends i surround myself with? When i look at our strength when faced with such adversity? when i see the way we care for each other, even if we don’t wanna fuck each other? I am no longer hopeless . i have become a hopeful romantic
each week i share fundraising links for trans girls in need. please donate if you have the funds. this weeks links are:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/maddies-gender-affirming-healthcare-fundraiser
https://www.gofundme.com/f/rosie-transition-fund-the-queens-nose
my personal kofi if you wanna buy me a coffee is: www.ko-fi.com/tabbylamb