You Weren’t Meant To Save Each Other

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Previously published by Thought Catalog at http://www.thoughtcatalog.com. The original article can be found here.


You and your partner will never be able to rescue each other: but there is someone else who can and will.

This is a story about an ego-love: a love that you love to hate and hate to love.

An audacious, fiery, carefree, exhausting love. A try-hard love, a defensive love, an I-swear-it love and a not-enough love. A love that drives you crazy and makes you second guess and pushes you away and keeps you coming back. A love where you’re never on the same page, because when one of you is up, the other is down. A love that you found, or perhaps, it found you, to prove something– to rectify and fix something. It arose to try and save you, to save them, or to save each other. This is a story about a rescue.

I wanted to save him, to heal him. Because in doing so, I was proving that I, someone like me, was deserving of and capable of being saved, too. Losing him, losing the battle of ‘saving’ him (because you will always lose in an ego-love), was the ultimate death and torture of my ego and the self-devised narrative of this worthiness-rescue game.

I was always on my toes with him. I knew from the very moment we began that he would outrun me. He would exhilarate and exhaust me, for as light and reckless as I wished to be, I had a passionate heart that weighed me down and an always-at-it-head that grounded me. But I ran. And I kept up with him, for a little bit.

I learned to play the games: to return not-so-playful and all-too-true jabs, to be a little more careless and a lot more competitive. I learned to love the way he knew how to love. But I never unlearned my own ways of loving. And sometimes, I would sneak in droplets of my love-water, biting the bullet of ego-jabs, to try and nurture his garden with encouragement, support and faith. I so badly wanted to help him grow and reach his sunlight. But his walls were solid and his knives sharp, and my efforts to drop barriers and release my light left me unarmed and burned. Despite it all, my hope and I remained desperately devoted to him.

After the failure of “us”– after the failure of my rescue– I fell into a deep depression, suffering withdrawals from my pain-addiction to him and clinging onto a dear, toxic, unhealthy, false sense of life.

I fell sick for two whole weeks when he finally left. I lost my voice. I became incapable of speaking this very trauma-induced pain of him, this pain of my own mind. In fact, I had lost my mind.

I went to all of the dark places, because I convinced myself that that’s where I needed to go to find him. And my ego and I would pull us both out of there, into light, into safety, into love.

I know now that he’ll never come back to me. Not that I need him to, in my healthier state of self-love. For he knows he’ll never be able to give me what I need, even if I sometimes forget it. He won’t respond to, address or hear my attempts of reaching out or reminiscing, because he knows that I’ll come around and one day, once again remember he can’t love me the way that I can love myself. And that will hurt him and guilt him all over again.

When he finally left me, for the last time– emotionally, mentally, physically, psychologically– he looked me in my eyes and said, “You are a beautiful person.”

And after all of the hurt, the heartache, the mind games and the ego-pain, I felt like maybe, a small shard of my love did really get through. Maybe, after it all, a piece of me was able to reach him.

That, I will never know. But I will remember that moment forever, because it marked the first day of my next and final rescue. The only and the most important one: the rescue of myself, from my own mind. And I knew then that I would be the only one to carry myself into salvation– into love– and that I was the only one standing in my own way. And I knew then that I would be victorious. I will be my own savior. And he will be his own savior. And we will both be beautiful.

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The Great American Road Trip: Part 2

The second stop in my cross-country move to San Diego.

Washington, D.C./ Arlington, V.A.

On January 19, 2017, my babe squad and I collected ourselves from our time in the Big Apple, drove disappointedly through Newark without finding any New Jersey bagels, gained another college best friend on our weekend mission and got settled into to our Arlington home with our incredible host for an empowering next couple of days.

Four of my closest girlfriends were joining me on the first stretch of my cross-country road trip to march on the Capitol for the Women’s March on Washington, the largest demonstration of human rights in history.

The night prior to the march, the babe squad broke out the glitter. And the cardboard, Sharpies and paints.

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@Goodgrateful: One side of the 5 double-sided signs we made for the Women’s March on Washington on January 21, 2017.

 

When Beyoncé’s “Formation” sounded our alarm the morning of January 21, we made ourselves sandwiches and put our game faces on to fight for what we want. Because we very damn well can do both.

My girlfriends and I marched our way into the Capitol and screamed, shouted, cried and danced our way among nearly 500,000 like-minded human rights activists. There was an overwhelming feeling of solidarity and togetherness in the capital of the United States that day.

 

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Four of the five members of the babe squad marching in front of the Washington Monument.

 

Amongst all of the recent fear and heartache infiltrating our media and minds, there was consoling joy in realizing we weren’t alone in being afraid and demanding change. There was a blissful freedom in being surrounded by kind, good-natured, loving individuals who were on our team. Our human, heart-pumping, blood-flowing team.

Marching alongside a record breaking amount of women, men and children gave a sense of hope, happiness and faith in the togetherness that the next four years will demand of us.

There was something magically empowering about utilizing our voices, bodies, passions and devotion to goodness with close, caring girlfriends and thousands of equally-minded strangers. It was a record-setting highly-emotional, highly-charged day in my life, the lives of my good friends and the lives of everyone who participated. We made history that Saturday, and my children and grandchildren will hear about it.

 

 

However, the work has just begun. Despite my cross-country adventures distracting me from the “real-world” and filling my active mind with awe-some people and places, this journey to nationwide goodness and equality will require persistence. Stay tuned into the national organization of Women’s March on Washington for their campaign, 10 Actions in 100 Days to continue our communal efforts for change.

Take 5 minutes out of your day to call your government with the organization, 5 Calls. Their platform is based on the effectiveness of calling our representatives to voice our demands. 5 Calls provides appropriate government phone numbers based on location and offers scripts for those unsure of exactly what to say. We’re already on our phones- let’s take one minute to dial instead of swipe right.

This great American journey has shone light on all of the wondrous people in this country that we’ve been lucky to share time with. From our incredible hosts and hostesses to the strangers that have given us their “locals-only” city tips, to complimentary treats and beverages, to souvenirs and keepsakes, we have been reminded that amongst all of the darknesses brooding, there is still goodness and light everywhere in this world. There is still goodness and light in this country, too. Let’s channel that in ourselves, and let’s bring that out in others we encounter.

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The whole team including blogging flight attendant, artist and photographer @alwaysinairplanemode, @es_jessa and @deveneywilliams, respectively.

 

Check out our talented photographer and videographer friend @DeveneyWilliams, and her capturing of our experience at the march: https://vimeo.com/202389845