My current relationship and my struggle with self worth

Sometimes when I start writing, I feel like Carrie Bradshaw. Because usually what inspires me to write is relationships. I can’t help it. What could be more interesting than love? It’s the most elusive, non-sensical, complicated, warm, cold, and yet sure thing a human can feel.

I often wake up super early. It’s another thing I can’t help. My internal body clock thrives before the rest of the world has awaken. But often times when I’ve woken up this past year, I have this small twinge of PTSD. You see, when I was in my last relationship, I had such a hard time sleeping. It’s crazy to look back and realize honestly. You can never see things clearly when you’re in the thick of it. Or maybe you can, but your solution to the problem isn’t what it should be.

So at that time in my life, I just have this very clear memory of being in bed and staring into the darkness for hours. I’d go to bed that way. I’d wake up that way. I couldn’t sleep. I just had so much anxiety. So oftentimes, when I wake up now at the very ripe hour of oh say, 4:30 for no reason except that I want to — I still stare into the darkness for a bit.

And every time, I feel amazed thinking about how unhappy I was in the past doing this same activity. I can remember it so clearly. It’s crazy how the smallest things can have the most traumatic impact.

When I woke up this morning, however, what I saw through the darkness were the roses a very cute mailman brought to me at work last week.

*

Nearly a month and a half ago, I was sitting upstairs with one of my roommates, Pasha. We were talking about our “types.” As the conversation turned to me, I paused, thought about it, and decided, “I like men who are okay with being alone.” Pasha laughed and said, “Okay, so you like someone emotionally unavailable.”

But that isn’t what I meant.

When I first got up to Denver, and my last relationship finally ended, I decided to go on at least one date a week. I figured this city was brimming with men, and more than anything, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could. I think I really did want to move on. I needed my ex — and the events of that relationship — to hold less importance than they did at the time. So I went on like 9 first dates, gained a ton of instagram followers from random strangers, along with quite a long string of dms praising me for no damn reason except probably my legs, and … that was that. I deleted my dating apps.

After several weeks, I started noticing the mailman coming into the gym I was working at. I developed a crush, although it was from afar. Which to be honest, is usually how I develop crushes. Oftentimes, I don’t even want them to come to fruition. It’s like okay, stay there — be a nice idea.

Let’s not ruin it.

But on Labor day, he came into the gym to workout, and something weird clicked. Maybe it was when I noticed the fact that his Alan Watts book was underlined. Maybe it was something else that I’d never be able to explain. All I know is that I felt very energetically pulled towards him. But to skip over the very movie like way of us both running to the front door to get each others numbers — after he had already left the gym — we ended up dating.

*

The first date we had, I was absolutely smitten. The second date, however, was super weird. We laugh about it now, but at the time I felt incredibly disappointed — which was really my own fault after getting so excited about the first date. To make it short, although it totally skips over the almost Twilight Zone aspect of it, we had a conversation that made me cry, and shared an absolutely terrible first kiss. He also bought me a 300 dollar Northface jacket. Because I needed it.

*

I started writing this post a few weeks ago, and I’m not quite sure where I was going with it except maybe just to say that the whole thing took me for surprise. I definitely did not expect myself to grow so close to someone after my last relationship. But if I’m being honest, I prayed for this. I asked for some way to stop thinking about the past and be excited for the future.

But what I have come to find, from both my last relationship and this one —and this isn’t a revolutionary thought by any means — is that no matter what the relationship is like, whether it holds chaos or peace, I’m having the same issues.

In every relationship I face this problem of worth. In the words of Jordan Peterson, I know I am a “fallen creature.” I see all of my bad habits and flaws, I see how deep they run. I see how I hide them, and I feel conflicted about who I am. There is this tiny split in my identity, the same space between who I am and who I want to be.

And I wonder why would I deserve to be happy?

It’s funny. I mean it’s obvious. Someone who doesn’t see themselves as worthy is always going to want someone who isn’t available because it reinforces that belief. It’s just our ego wanting to be right.

It’s almost like me loving my ex in part was me trying to feed my ego. And now, it’s like me loving Eric is me trying to love myself too. Eric creates this safe space. He takes care of me, but he wants to see me thrive. He’s the most disciplined person I have ever met. He opens the car door for me, reads me Alan Watts in the bathtub, always makes sure I orgasm first, thinks ahead, doesn’t drink or smoke, is incredibly hard working, is family-oriented, underlines his books, doesn’t have social media, is in tune with his emotions, likes buying me dinner, brings me flowers at work, doesn’t care what anyone thinks — he’s rare. When I look at him, I think “Okay. This is a man.” I think he deserves so much, and I struggle with our relationship because I don’t think I am enough for him.

I didn’t even know that I loved him until I realized he is the only person I have ever trusted 100%. The day I realized that, and the moment I realized that — okay, that is synonymous with love — was kinda a game changer.

But it is difficult. Because the past has changed the future. It’s not as easy to love someone after my last relationship. It’s not as easy to love him because I know he wants me.

It’s hard to love him because it reinforces the idea that I am enough. And I just don’t feel that way at all.

*

The first night I went over to Eric’s place, I looked through all his books. I picked up his copy of 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos (by Jordan Peterson of course), and I started looking at all the bits he had underlined. All the sudden, I had an urge to find a specific paragraph. I wanted to see if he had underlined the same part of it as I had. So I flipped through, not knowing where it was, but knowing it was at the top right of a right side page.

When I finally found it, I laughed. Because yes, the part I was looking for was underlined. But also, the page number at the bottom was circled and he had written next to it, “One of the most important parts of this book.”

The idea of that specific passage is an interesting one. It’s at the end of chapter two, rule two: Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping. The title of this particular section is “A Spark of the Divine.” Basically, it psychoanalyzes the bible, talking about the fall of Man.

“The original Man and Woman, existing in unbroken unity with their Creator, did not appear conscious (and certainly not self-conscious). Their eyes were not open. But, in their perfection, they were less, not more, than their post-Fall counterparts. Their goodness was something bestowed, rather than deserved or earned. They exercised no choice. God knows, that’s easier. But maybe it’s not better than, for example, goodness genuinely earned. Maybe, even in some cosmic sense (assuming that consciousness itself is a phenomenon of cosmic significance), free choice matters. Who can speak with certainty about such things? I am unwilling to take these questions off the table, however, merely because they are difficult. So, here’s a proposition: perhaps it is not simply the emergence of self-consciousness and the rise of our moral knowledge of Death and the Fall that besets us and makes us doubt our own worth. Perhaps it is instead our willingness — reflected in Adam’s shamed hiding — to walk with God, despite our fragility and propensity for evil.“

p. 57, 12 rules for life

So what am I saying here? I don’t know exactly. Maybe I’m just saying that it is all okay, and that my struggle for self-worth isn’t just a me problem. Maybe I’m just reinforcing the fact that I am in no way alone in this struggle. Maybe I’m saying that it’s okay to keep trying even though I will never be perfect or worthy enough. Maybe I’m saying it’s okay to love myself. It’s okay to love someone who sees a spark of the divine within me.

To quote one of my favorite 6lack songs —

“I guess the light I see in you is what you see in me.”