The Things I Tried to Outgrow
I mistook healing for becoming someone who needed less.
I’ve lost too many people in my life, and my sadness was contagious. I tried to make sense of it all, but somehow, I failed. Calling someone on the phone was never really a people thing, but it was mine. It used to be my favorite thing to do with my ex, until we broke up. I tried to unlearn this essential need I’d had for the last two years, trying to accept that the guy I used to call wasn’t available to me anymore. The rust grew between our telephone calls, and I started looking for someone to replace him, but it wasn’t the same. I kept blaming myself, wondering why I still needed something I’d been trying so hard to get rid of.
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That breakup was miserable. I went insane right after the relationship ended, so I spent almost two years in my therapist’s room. We kept talking about how guilty I felt, over and over again, about the breakup. Our relationship tripped on the pebble that cracked. I’m aware that I was a toxic petal, but his root was full of germs anyway. I knew what I did was wrong, but somehow, I kept going back and forth between blaming myself and remembering the things he did to me. I tried to convince myself that he wasn’t my person, that I didn’t really need to call him, that I could live without hearing his voice. I kept telling myself those things, but it took me a long time to actually believe them. Eventually, I was brave enough to start over.
I tried to be a girl who didn’t need a call. I kept telling myself that mature women didn’t need that, that we were all busy and had too many things to do. I met several guys, trusting my gut whenever it told me someone was worth getting to know. I thought maybe one of them would make me forget, or maybe I just wanted to prove to myself that I could find something else. Calling every day was one of the things I wanted, but there was something else I couldn’t really explain. I wanted to feel that connection again, and I kept hoping I’d find it somewhere. I could do it, I really could. I could go on with my days without calling someone, but it felt bizarre because I didn’t feel like I was that girl. I kept convincing myself that I was fine without it, that maybe growing up meant learning not to need the little things that once made me feel loved.
Then I met someone who made me think that maybe I was wrong all along. I was wrong for trying to become someone else, for trying so hard to erase a part of myself just because I couldn’t have it with the person I used to love. This much older, good man came into my life, and we started talking on the phone every day. It wasn’t anything extraordinary. We just talked, sometimes about things that mattered and sometimes about nothing at all. But somehow, I found myself enjoying something I’d spent years trying to forget. That’s when I realized that maybe I never really stopped needing it. I just convinced myself that I shouldn’t. What I thought was childish was never childish to begin with. Maybe I was never asking for too much, maybe I was just asking for something that felt like home, and I had forgotten what that felt like until I met someone who made me remember.
