Kayla B(e) Writing

Love takes work and patience.

If you told me that years ago, I would have called you an unromantic pessimist.

You probably would have called me naive. And you would be right. When it came to romantic relationships in the past, I was dumb. I thought that love equated to constant butterflies in your stomach and you lived in a fantasy world where everything is easy and sexy. At the time, I thought love is when the hard work stops. Once you find a man, you’re pretty much set. 

Maybe it was the countless Disney movies I watched. I can remember vividly how bleak the life of the leading lady seemed. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, etc. Before they found love with a man, their lives sucked. Well, to me they did. I personally didn’t want to live in the forest or be friends with mice. In their stories, there was always such an emphasis on the build up of romantic love. The first meeting, the attraction, the first kiss…all leading up to a grand wedding signifying to the world that yes, two beautiful people found love so they will live happily ever after.

Direct-to-video Disney sequels aside, the message never went beyond “happily-ever-after.” As far as I knew, once you reached the marriage finish line, there was nothing left to do. No more obstacles to face. No more evils to fight. You and your partner won.

I met my fiancé right before I turned 19. He was 26. The age difference didn’t deter me. He didn’t look like he was older than 22 when I first saw him. When it was clear he was older than he looked, I assumed without asking that he was more knowledgeable about life. I thought he would be who I could follow without much work on my end. Little did I know, he was as lost as I was when it came to relationships. Neither one of us knew what they hell we were doing. 

The first time I was ghosted, I was 15 and it put me into a tailspin. Constant compliments and reassurance that I would be taken care of turned into radio silence. I never got an explanation for what was wrong with me. I took it as a sign that if I was different, maybe I would be lovable enough for someone to stick around. I spent my teenage years being approached by much older men who didn’t seem to care how creepy they were being. I’ve been catcalled, followed, grabbed at…it caused me to be fearful and confused. I wanted to be wanted but I wasn’t liking who I was attracting. At all.

I didn’t feel comfortable enough to go to the males in my life about this. I didn’t feel like they would understand. Instead, I found safety in female friendships. They received the same messages about men and were more than happy to exchange notes with me. Through my female friendships, we built an understanding that good men exist only in the movies. We had stories to tell about how men were trash and unreliable. Yet we still held out hope (small, miracle like hope) that we were just being cynical or we were unlucky.

When I went to college, I started to ease up on the pressure of finding love. I told myself that actively searching would lead to heartbreak. I should just have fun. Since I had nothing left to lose, I approached men just to practice my social skills and see what would happen. I told myself to make no plans and to expect very little. There was still a part of me that wanted to see if men liked me. If I could at least get one of them’s attention, then that had to count for something towards my self-worth.

My fiancé was one of the men I approached with little to no expectation. The first thing I said to him was “God, you’re cute.” And he looked down and smiled the brightest smile. “You too.” I knew I was in trouble then. The rest of the night was a blur. We talked about anything and everything. At some point he gave me his hoodie to wear because it got too cold. As night turned to day, he walked me to my dorm and we sat in the hallway. Even when a student came in to vomit violently in the bathroom next to us (her friends were with her), we talked. I think I went to bed at 6am. Before I shut my eyes, I texted him asking if he made it home OK. And since then, we have been inseparable. Although there was a part of me that questioned if he had genuine intentions, my heart still fluttered with just the mere thought of him. The bitter and heartbroken thoughts of a scorned teenager seemed like they came from someone else from long ago. I was attached, in love, and happy.

When the honeymoon phase is over, you’ll know. When both partners become comfortable enough to show their least flattering selves, a new person begins to emerge. When this happens, you have to exchange introductions all over again. It’s not just your partners’ flaws but yours as well that become more visible. The first argument feels so alien and strange. So much so you think you will never have them again nor do you want to. But then the ones that come after the first one don’t feel so foreign. Through each disagreement, another layer comes off and there’s no more pretending or hiding anymore. There’s nothing left but just two starkly different people who love each other but now see love might not be enough.

When our layers disappeared, I panicked. The anxious perfectionist in me started looking for escape routes with each argument. Doubts about where we were headed as a couple creeped in. When we experienced our rough patch, our first “holy shit this is the worst it’s been”, I was devastated. I was sitting at rock bottom with the one I loved so much. We were staring at each other as if we were strangers. 

I realized a Fairy Godmother would not come and make everything better. I could rely on friends, forums, or self help books. And I did for a while. But I still felt unsure and lost. I realized that there was only one person who I hadn’t asked yet. And she would be the only one who could have the right answer.

I had to make some adult choices. I had to determine what it is that I wanted in this relationship and let him know that. It was time to get real honest with my partner and with myself. My anxiety told me I would hear “no” or even worse, be abandoned all together. Was I worth the trouble? I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. When I rolled up my sleeves and I said what I thought our next moves as a couple should be, he met me more than halfway. We stayed in it and we did it together.

And I’m glad we did.

For the first time, I saw the realest meaning of “doing the work” when it comes to relationships. And I saw my partner do something I never thought I would see any boyfriend do for me. He fought for me. When it came to men who said they wanted me, I heard a lot of pretty words, but I didn’t see much action. Even when I was clear about what I wanted and what I needed, I only got empty promises. Instead of looking at my partner as “just another man” I saw him as a complicated, multi-facet individual. An individual that was committed to build a life with me. 

I won’t lie, sometimes I resisted. At one point I doubted that he was being authentic about wanting to overcome any kind of challenge to be with me. For so long I believed a narrative about men but now he was challenging that. His dedication to therapy and talking about the uncomfortable stuff made me question everything I knew and experienced. I questioned if I even deserve this kind of love and devotion.

He wasn’t the only one doing the heavy lifting. He encouraged my journey of self discovery and healing. My fiancé pulled an UNO Reverse card. He asked me to make changes. He asked me to be vulnerable. He asked me to be brave. Before I was with him, I was in and out of therapy for years. I was realizing that there was a deep hurt living inside me that needed to be addressed. It became even more important to do so now that I was sharing my life with a whole other person. I had to look in the mirror and see the power I had over my own behaviors and actions that could make things better.

Working on myself meant confronting old and harmful belief systems. It meant being honest about things that scared me. I had to come to the realization that if I didn’t cope with my depression and anxiety, I could destroy any hopes for a happy future with my partner. Not only that, I could destroy hope for a better life for myself. I would also be an ass for making him do all the work and insinuating that he was at fault for everything that made us unhappy. I had to take responsibility for my healing. This was (and still is) exhausting. Sometimes I ask myself, why do I have to do all of these mental gymnastics?

Even though some days this question still rises, the answer is simple. I’m doing this for many reasons. I’m doing the work because my partner is worth it. I take my relationship with him seriously and want to spend a long, healthy life with him. I’m doing this for our future family. If our relationship is strong and stable, we can create the household we want for our kids. Lastly, and most importantly, I’m doing this for my own sake. Despite how hard it’s been, I’m proud of the woman I’m becoming. She’s putting trust in herself and what is worth her energy and time. She’s doing what she wants to do. She’s having faith that things will work out in the end no matter what. She’s following her heart.

I can’t say that my fiancé and I will never have hardships. I can’t say we will always have successes. But I’ve come to terms with being OK with that. I’m OK with the messy journey we must take so we have a better way of loving each other. Some days are easier than others and this relationship will always have work to do. But it’s a relationship full of other things too. There is friendship, laughter, honesty, and a mature, realistic connection. And that feels so much more special than a fairy tale.