I'll admit that I'm beyond nervous to share the details of my past regarding boys and dating. It's been an emotional journey and making it all public is nerve-wracking. But if something scares me, I push myself out of my comfort zone. I will always stay raw and honest with you all. So let's pretend we're at a sleepover revealing our deepest secrets to each other. Grab a blanket and snack; shit is about to get real. Perhaps a glass of wine is in order.
Like most girls, my dating journey began at the ripe old age of thirteen, circa middle school. Of course there were multiple crushes throughout the elementary years, but those only consisted of passed notes and giggles among my gal pals. The hot gossip centered around what boy in home room was considered cute that week.
God, I miss the glory days.
Middle school was a new ball game. People were kissing in bathrooms, pairing off into couples, dumping each other in dramatic fashions, and ruining friendships over boys. I was fed up with being a simple wallflower; I wanted to be involved in all of the action.
I landed my first boyfriend one day and we had never had a conversation prior to dating. My best friend shared a class with him and informed him that I thought he was cute. He had a mutual agreement with my cuteness, so we decided that we were meant to be.
It was a magical couple of weeks. I experienced my first kiss with him at the movies. When it ended, I knew I would keel over and die. So I searched for the next.
Suddenly my name became a bit more familiar. I enjoyed the jitters that came with "flirting" and the attention that boys would give in response. Even if it was fleeting, I needed acceptance.
Eighth grade rolled around, which meant we were the oldest kids in the school building. We all walked with purpose and authority, prepared to rule the world at such an experienced age. My long-time guy friend (keep in mind that this is a small town, so most of these people stick around all the way through the end of high school) and I decided that we fancied each other; it was time for another "relationship."
This one, however, wouldn't end for a year and a half.
I follow the cliche "Everything happens for a reason", so I do not regret my dating past; I believe each experience from here on out shaped me and helped me to learn from my mistakes. But looking back, I know "dating" someone through the transition of middle school to high school was a horrible decision. My bullying issues and self harm began, which is enough to deal with; on top of that I was going through puberty while dating a boy that I met in my childhood days. We didn't know how to grow together and stayed stuck in our immature mindsets of handling problems.
One of his best girl friends ended up being one of my nastiest bullies. She triggered multiple fights, mostly started by me.
We were little babies trying to figure out too much. The end was dragged out slowly. Suddenly I was finishing my Freshman year of high school not sure how to be alone. My body was developing, bringing more bullies. The at-home issues surfaced, along with my early symptoms of depression.
I craved distraction from the unfolding events. I felt as if everything was out of my control, so I used cutting to feel in control. The loneliness weighed on my chest, but my friend Evan called me nearly every night, talking me out of detrimental decisions. When I fought with my family, I clung to his words late into the evening. It started as a best friend saving me from myself. But when the heartbreak eventually faded from the previous boy, it hit me: "Evan's a boy. And he is a CUTE boy!"
Evan confessed feelings for me, and I was over the moon with joy. We decided to go to our sophomore year homecoming dance (yes, the picture above is from that exact dance). We became official that evening. Evan spun me around on the dance floor, pulling me in for hugs, held my hand, kissed my forehead. I was a princess.
As the weeks progressed, I continued to hurt myself at home. But at school, I had my protector. Evan knew a lot of people, and the bullying seemed to subside for a moment.
Up until this time, I had been using relationships to escape...but there was a shift with Evan.
When we kissed, I felt my heart fall into my feet. It left me breathless. When we locked eyes, we would quickly look away and blush. He would put his hand on my shoulder and the connection felt electric. His smile made my knees shake. His gentle and attentive nature was unfamiliar yet comforting. When we hugged in between class, I was exactly where I wanted to stay. One night I even wrote in my diary, "Evan isn't my distraction. I really enjoy being with him. I think this is what dating is really supposed to be like. I would chose him over anyone else in a heartbeat."
We crashed and burned. Hard.
The breakup changed me in a way I wasn't anticipating. I thought previous breakups damaged me, but this time I loved him for HIM, not for the attention. Looking back, I know we had such an intense connection. It was too powerful for our age; we didn't know how to handle it. And when it blew up in our faces...there aren't really words to describe what it felt like. He hurt me without intending to, but regardless of the intentions, it still wrecked me from the inside out. The guilt (he would later tell me) rotted him to the core.
There was no relief in between Evan and the next. I was sixteen when we ended and an older man became infatuated with me soon after. I craved the adrenaline of hanging out with someone that I knew was dangerous and off-limits. I was entirely too vulnerable for my own good.
There's a piece of history that occurs here. A large part of my past. An event that changed the course of my life. Changed the wiring of who I would become over the next few years. It's a topic for a different post that I am not quite prepared to write about. Nevertheless, it happened and I crumbled.
The suicide attempts began. My family life, school life, and dating life were all disintegrating around me. I did not have the tools or mindset to cope, and my solution was to die.
I had a friend that was thoroughly invested in his Catholic Church. He saw me rotting away and reached out, promising healing. I didn't necessarily want to survive anymore but agreed to give it a try for him. The church promised me redemption, forgiveness, love, and a community to fall back on. The prospect of so much safety was intriguing; I threw myself head-first into Catholicism. As a result, my friend and I were drawn to each other. Praying with him was an intense exchange of emotions. I thought I was falling in love.
He courted me with chivalry, kindness, patience, and God. I felt safe around him. I felt safe in our church. Despite certain adult figures questioning whether I was a bad influence due to my cutting scars and dark past, I had a group of friends that pulled me through extremely dangerous days. For that, I am forever grateful.
The reoccurring fight that my boyfriend and I had was centered around his consideration of joining the seminary. Part of me was terrified of losing him, and part of me was jealous that he was so confident in his faith. My prayer life was filled with tears and purging of my demons; most people would come out of an emotional prayer session feeling refreshed. I felt drained. The cutting did not stop. When my boyfriend found new wounds, he would panic. "Don't you listen when I tell you how much I love you? How can you still feel so horrible about yourself? Don't you know how much God loves you? You are his masterpiece and you're destroying it." I lived with daily guilt, afraid to disappoint him and watch him slip between my fingertips. So I vowed to hide my emotions from the world.
We dated for almost two years. When we were seniors and applying for colleges, he took me out for coffee to chat about our choices. I remember being so excited for our futures and escaping that toxic town. We frequently discussed different enticing options for when we graduated. I had plans for him to come back to my parent's house after coffee so we could cuddle in front of a movie. I had made him an Ohio State blanket in preparation for his acceptance as a surprise.
"I'm going to the seminary in the fall." He wouldn't look me in the eye as he spoke.
"Oh!" I chirped, not quite understanding.
Then it hit.
"Oh."
The rug was pulled out from under me; the sensation of falling wreaked havoc in my stomach. Words failed me for minutes on end. The coffee shop around us seemed smaller and suffocating.
"How long have you been seriously considering this?"
Again, no eye contact when he said "a few months."
Months. He had months to process, and I had minutes.
Back at home, wrapped up in the Ohio State blanket, it began to dawn on me how much of my life I had focused around him. Friends, religion, future plans. All about him. Not me. We had become one tied knot and I didn't know how to start untangling myself.
In my fear of not knowing who I was, I ran back to Evan. He had never quite stopped loving me, and I knew I never really let go either. The relief of feeling safe again was intoxicating, but I eventually had to be honest: there was no way to get over my two-year relationship with the other boy so fast. I had to accept that it would be a time-consuming process. I ended up still going to prom with the ex in search of some kind of closure. Graduation rolled around and rather than celebrating me and my accomplishments, I was swimming in a sea of ex boyfriends and toxic classmates.
The prospect of heading off to college with an entirely different crowd was petrifying...but also addictive. I craved a fresh start. I decided to embark on a Boy Cleanse.
At first I failed at my cleanse. I lived by the douche bag mantra: "I don't date, but I have friends with benefits." Partying every night and finding acceptance in frat boys was just as harmful. I flunked right out of college in the blink of an eye, crawling back home with my tail between my legs. Another suicide attempt followed, triggered by my own poor habits and lack of understanding of my depression.
It was time to REALLY tackle a Boy Cleanse.
It turned into a cleanse that slowly purged all toxic people, one by one. I dropped out of the church that was now shunning me while simultaneously coddling my ex that, in their eyes, could do no wrong. I chose my own spiritual journey without an organized religion. From 2015-2017, I was on a mission to dissect my mind and the years of built-up trauma.
Let's all pause and stretch here. If you've made it this far into the story, thank you. I'm embarrassed, but carrying less weight on my shoulders now.
Sharing my background is crucial because if I'm going to spout relationship advice at you, I need you to see the experience I have under my belt. It's been an exhausting dating past, and to be honest, that story was an attempt at summarizing.
So the question is: where am I now in the love journey?
A little over two years ago, I reconnected with a person from the heart of my past. He drove four hours from his college to catch up. The catch-ups became frequent again, which brought a fear that left me paralyzed every night. I had come so far; what if reconnecting ruined all of my progress?
But we couldn't ignore the magnetic pull that seemed to resurface as we filled in the blanks from the separate years. His genuine curiosity over my life changes and interests shocked me. I had forgotten what it was like to be treated with kindness by the opposite gender. His heart of gold was always apparent, giving him a constant aura of friendliness.
He drove up to visit one particular weekend to help me throw my roommate a birthday party. I found myself struggling to pick what to wear while waiting for him to arrive. The butterflies in my stomach were nearly enough to make me vomit. As I was applying mascara, an epiphany punched me in the face: I was experiencing the anxious feelings associated with seeing a crush. The realization induced a massive panic attack.
How had I let my guard down? How did I not notice my vulnerability? I was completely exposed.
When he arrived, I was jittery and babbling. I used the crowd of friends at the party as a distraction; I wanted to avoid any opportunity that would leave the two of us alone to talk.
The next morning, however, we had to face the music. Upon listening to what his life was like post-graduation, my heart softened. He was also on an intense personal journey. It reminded me that there are so many sides to this tale. So many of us have been affected in entirely different ways.
Before heading back to school, he gathered the courage to ask for another chance. I froze. Did I even know how to date?
"Can I think about it? I'm not really sure what to say."
"Of course. I would never rush you. Take your time."
I wasn't expecting that response. His patience left me speechless again.
At the door, he turned back to me with a timid smile. Looked down. Took a deep breath. Brought his brown eyes to meet mine.
"Can I kiss you goodbye?"
Nobody has ever asked permission to kiss me. The gesture made my knees quiver.
The kiss was swift and gentle, yet charged with energy potent enough to power the entire planet. I leaned my back against the door after he left, sliding down to my butt. I sat there with my knees drawn to my chest for at least twenty minutes.
Turns out I hadn't let my guard down and developed feelings for him. My guard had never gone up with him in the first place. The love was an undercurrent that waited politely for me to stop ignoring it.
I thought and thought. I over-thought, actually. I made myself nauseous every day for at least a week, trying to uncover the correct answer.
It came down to listening to my intuition, something I was finally getting better at. I had to ask: "Cassie, what do YOU want? What is best for YOU?"
I took a leap of faith.
Evan and I are two years strong as of February 2018.
I think we work because we are strong individuals on our own now. We can take care of ourselves without relying on any external factors to survive. The strength comes from within. We stand tall separately, and that allows us to come together in a harmonious partnership filled with trust and confidence. Our love FINALLY has room to grow, and it's blossoming.
Evan recently moved to Texas to finish school. The shift challenged us in new ways and I would be lying if I said we didn't consider ending it. I questioned our capabilities until the thought of not being together truly dawned on me. We weren't willing to lose each other again.
We are passionate about keeping open lines of communication. Honesty and trust mean everything to us. Some nights I find myself shutting down and getting stuck in my head, so I call Evan for help. Other days he needs me to be there for him when his thoughts are overwhelming. Ever since I was diagnosed as bipolar, I make it a priority to not bottle up emotions (much easier said than done). Evan has been on his own journey regarding mental health; it's refreshing to relate to the internal struggles we both go through. It's taken us nearly eight years to achieve a healthy balance, and even now, we are constantly working on it. But "working on it" doesn't seem like a chore when we are rewarded with abundant love and happiness.
If you're struggling in the love department, I need you to hear me out.
What's meant to be will always find a way.
Stop rolling your eyes at my cheesy advice! I understand that it's hard to see the potential outcomes when you're stuck in the heat of it. You feel hopeless and unloveable. You don't think you'll ever trust another person again, but also cannot stand the thought of being alone.
I'm here to tell you that you'll get out of this. You'll make it out of this tunnel.
Start inside. Start within yourself. Learn about the ways you love others. Learn about the type of love you thrive off receiving. Learn about your past and how it's shaped you. Then learn how to re-configure the trauma.
It will be a slow process. Maybe you need a cleanse, too. It will feel incredibly lonely in the beginning. But once you work on being strong alone, you'll love your own company. The healing will spread.
Do not suffer in silence. Talk. It's hard to not be embarrassed, but heartbreak is a valid pain. You are capable of overcoming what others have inflicted upon you, and what you have inflicted upon yourself.
You are incredibly brave for living through a broken heart.
What is broken can be fixed.
"Your vibe attracts your tribe." -unknown