ON SELFLOVE

Just keep swimming

Facing the dirty thirty, there is a phrase I’m getting more and more confronted with: The good ones are gone already. Well, I can prove you wrong by naming at least five incredible individuals in my circle of friends who are single – some by choice and some are probably hoping to end up with someone, or rather THE one. 

Having hope doesn’t truly suit my thinking. Having hope indicates for me that there is an unpleasant state and you are hopefully forcing to get out of it. That’s not the case for me. Not anymore. It took me a while to learn that though. It took many tears and situations where I felt loneliness. Crawling on my bathroom floor trying to get rid of food I just binged, hours in the gym, fighting against myself and forcing me to do an extra loop around the lake. It took me moments I can’t remember correctly because I was too drunk to actually embrace the pain and let it be. Let me feel what I was actually feeling. The interesting part is that I still wouldn’t change a thing. Breaking led me to where I am now. Puzzling myself together by touching and observing every single piece individually.  Sorting out pieces that don’t fit anymore and adding new pieces, day by day –  and finally letting other people help me piece the broken parts together.

The good ones are gone already. I actually started to feel compassion for the people confronting me with this thinking. It sounds so miserable. But let me tell you, they are not. Maybe it looks like it if you’re sitting on your couch, waiting for them or just hope.

I admit, that’s what I did for years of my life. Actually, I was sitting next to a good one. He wasn’t MY good one though and I decided to end our mutual journey. Some people would say I was the bad one because I tried to be strong. Acting cold in order to protect his and my feelings. Seeing him break, broke me. I learned that love can be the most beautiful and cruelest thing in the world. Seeing him, suffering and desperate made me feel like the worst person on earth – but I just knew. I just knew it was the right thing to do. I loved him, I did. But not wholly. I felt that there is more potential, and our love changed, at least for me. It became platonic. I started wondering; Maybe it was platonic the whole time? But how should you know how IT feels like when you have never experienced love before? Again, I just knew. Looking back, I noticed that I paid the price of losing my best friend in order to help us both grow into our potential. Loving a person unconditionally. I had conditions, even though I wasn’t aware of them. It might sound egoistical but isn’t that a big part of this whole self-love thing everyone is talking about recently?

I just knew that there is more. That there will be someone who answers all my questions – or rather helps me asking the right ones. I thought that it  might help me to do a detour in a kayak instead of paddling in our relationSHIP together, but against the flow.

Being single after spending a quarter of my life with my best friend struck me. I still remember the sound of the crappy wheels of his suitcase when he left, walking to his car. Face down. He took some of his stuff and left his whole life in our apartment. Step by step I removed the bed sheds we bought together and put his favorite coffee mug in the darkest place of the cupboard. I tried to reassure me by telling myself that it was my decision, I was the one jumping off our (relation)- ship but honestly didn’t expect the surface to be as hard and cold. I remember that my 6-year-old self once jumped from a 5-meter board in a pool. I remember the feeling of excitement when I climbed up the steep and slippery stairs. It quickly changed into panic when I reached the top. Feeling the crowd of strangers behind me, forcing me to go faster, ready to do their jump. I wasn’t ready. So I was standing on the board, feeling pressured and just jumped. Eyes closed. I hit the surface with my arms. Wide spread. Nobody told me to hold them onto my body. I left the pool with red marks on my inner arms, feeling numb but acted all cool, feeling embarrassed.  That’s learning right? 

So eventually I was forced to learn how to swim again after sitting on deck for so long. But there are some things you won’t forget. Like swimming. That’s why I consciously decided against a life jacket. 

A life jacket aka a person who distracts you from facing your real problems by temporarily saving you from the ocean. But – sooner or later – you’ll jump off or capsize again. It is sad but so common that people use life jackets – backups. It might appear to be easier in the beginning, but isn’t challenge the seed of growth? Eventually you do what you have to do – and just  keep swimming, swimming, swimming (and yes, I’m quoting Dori right now!). 

And after a few paddles, it gets easier and you get used to it again. So that’s me. Being confronted with my single self again. A person I barely knew.

What do I do with all this time now? Especially the weekends were tricky in the beginning. No more togetherness at our wooden dinner table. I simply skipped these former rituals and worked it out by working out. Excessively. Working out was my therapy. The problem was that I wasn’t actually talking and didn’t listen to my therapist – my body. I couldn’t sleep, lost weight and had to change clothes almost every night because of night sweats. I guess I tried to hide my tears and they found their way through every pore of my body. Showing me, you’re not ok girl. My way of getting control was to control my body. At some point my body was giving me tough love by taking what was left of my femininity. My period. Till that point I didn’t know that you can actually miss your bloated body, cramps or food cravings. After 6 months, I got concerned and went to my gynecologist. Or I should say, ex-gynecologist.

Apparently the moment I started to become aware that something is NOT right, someone else tried to convince me that everything is fine. I remember getting physically and mentally undressed in the white and sterile room with the bright lights, feeling her cold hands on my breasts.  After explaining my concerns, she was simply smiling at me while saying that I should be lucky because I’m not wasting money on tampons. Period. Literally. That was enough. I made an appointment to check my hormone levels. Two month later I was sitting in the waiting area, next to a happy or unhappy couple. I couldn’t tell. Were they excited or concerned? I just remember that it felt awkward sitting there by myself. Of course, the doctor in the endocrinology added insult to injury. While she examined my yoni with her plastic camera penis she stated that my hormone levels were so bad I couldn’t have children right now. She said that as if we were talking about the weather. And I felt a tornado approaching. Sitting on the gynecological chair, with her head between my legs I responded nervously: “Not now”. I still get mad when I think of this. It felt like a slam into my face, even though it is not a topic for me right now, I know that I want to be a mum one day. The doctor just commented, that if I wanted kids, we’d had to substitute hormones. Then she got up. Her rubber gloves snapped as she removed them quickly to hand me a prescription – for the pill. Seriously? Trying to talk calmly I explained to her that I won’t take any hormones. Period. Then I left. Once the door was shut, I started crying immediately. I remember standing on the street in front of the clinic, doing my best to ignore the happy or unhappy couples who walked by, while trying to figure out how to fix me.

At least I knew that school medicine won’t help me at this point. My amenorrhea was just another way of my body telling me, you’re not ok girl. I needed time and space to think and calm down. And made a decision that changed my life completely. It sounds stereotypical – but solo traveling cured me. It wasn’t a kind of finding myself solo trip. I rather found out who I’m not. I learned how to listen to my body again. Making decisions based on my gut feeling. I was forced to get out of my sports routine and actually be present in the here and now. I finally found a part of my feminine side again when I noticed a tiny but literally life changing drop of blood in swimsuit. And thanks to Baywatch and red swimsuits – I kept it my secret.

After this trip I noticed that I was paddling against the current for at least three years till I was sore. Releasing the paddles helped me to finally let go. To go with the flow. I started spending more time by myself and actually getting to know me. I learned to be alone without being lonely. Asking myself: Who am I? What do I like? What kind of person do I want to be? What brings me joy? What is my purpose? By letting go of the paddles and letting the universe lead my ship, I met incredibly unique and wonderful strangers, who didn’t feel strange to me. I manifested relationships with people I’ve never thought I’d meet. Just because we were all lost in the right direction.

Recently, I have started to get more and more interested in spirituality. I’ve always believed in something even though I’ve never considered myself a religious person. What I just figured out is that we probably all think similar thoughts, believe in something but just name it differently. For me the spiritual approach is more open. I always believed in destiny, and trying to read the universe’s messages helps me to observe my environment more consciously. I’m still struggling with slowing down and meditating. But it’s ok. Sometimes I even wonder why I feel so calm lately. Even though I’d like to be with someone and do enjoy some encounters from time to time, I’m kind of happy that I’m the most important person in my life right now. 

In the end, I’m learning to be gentle to myself, I’m learning to take care of myself, I’m learning to love myself – day by day, and just keep swimming. The good ones are gone already? I’m in process of becoming a good one myself. This time listening to my body, mind and soul telling me – you are going to be ok girl. And I know I’m not the only one.