As my 33rd birthday crawls closer, I have decided to reflect. I started with reflecting on this year, maybe last, maybe this decade. And eventually I rollercoastered my way beyond time and space, to a continuum where thoughts are just thoughts and (un)related to anyone or anything specific. I am not married, which to many resembles failure. To some, it resembles kicking societal norms in the balls. To me, it symbolises nothing, because my marriage status does not have anything to do with anyone but myself. I did not not get married due to a lack of candidates. Without the sarcasm in my voice of my younger self, I can honestly say I know how to pick them, now (yes now, because that same sarcastic personality emerged from a series of unfortunate partners in my early, no mid, oh who am I kidding – late twenties). Beautiful, inside and out, and usually empaths, with an understanding of the interconnectedness of everything. I never thought that any of my partners were not good enough for me, partly because “good enough” is a social construct that I had to reinvent for myself, and partly because there were times where I considered myself not good enough for them. But I was, and they were. Which means that in the current societal framework I never had a good reason to leave. I loved each of my partners, I adored them. They loved me, they adored me. But I did not want to settle down. I could not see myself spending a lifetime, or even just many many years with one person.
I’ve dissected these symptoms, hoping they are tied to some traumatic root cause (of which I have many) that can be cured by therapy, so I too can walk down the aisle in an exorbitantly expensive white dress, confess my love and vow my lifetime of commitment. Why can I not do that with one of these incredible humans coming in and out of my life? From one side I hear that I’m not willing to work on things, compromise, accept someone’s imperfections. From another side I hear that I might be polyamorous and will never be happy just loving one person. Some say I am a commitmentphobe. Others, and when I say others I refer to the voice deep inside me, say that my childhood trauma prohibits me to take the leap to commit. This, combined with the unhappy marriage of my parents, have set the tone for my love life. Apparently forever? Because of the many demons inside me I have slaughtered, I accuse myself of suffering from this trauma argument, but I also defend myself because it just isn’t true. But the trauma had to have tainted me somehow – I have a PhD, I have good job, I am happy… the list goes on of how “successful” I am. But trauma doesn’t allow you to have it all unfortunately, there always has to be that one thing that just isn’t right with you as a survivor. And at some point I must have realised, decided, hoped, that for me it was dysfunctional relationships. Knowing that relationships will always fall to pieces for me, or that I cannot commit out of fear, has been comforting, because at least to some extent every other aspect of my life will be safe. When a relationship starts feeling too stable and healthy I cannot help but wonder, what part of my life will have to give for this to stay this way? And in the end the easy choice for me is always to chase after my independence, that just might be rewarded by this something that I give the power to reward or punish me. As much as this does not make sense to you, the reader, it is all I have known. I have known the fear of being too happy, of reading red flags before they even exist, of feeling intense guilt for being in a new relationship. Because maybe to balance out everything that has been tainted by trauma, I should really only be with myself. Of course, ironically, this lands me in endless cycles of falling in and out of love – often with very few real good reasons (but of course some) to end it. While most of you might think that the answer here is clear cut, resolve your trauma and you will be allowed (by who?) to be happy in a relationship and possibly even for the rest of your life.
But what if I don’t want that? What if it really has nothing to do with my trauma or my fears of being punished for not being alone and independent and working on myself and all these symbols of strength that I see in single women. What if it’s just that I really enjoy connecting with humans and there’s just not enough time in my lifetime to be connecting that intimately with only one human? Does that make me a slut, or polyamorous (which are two different things by the way, the former doesn’t actually exist, and the latter very much does)? What if I just want a “team Willemien” of humans I have loved and still love, although in many different ways, and we can support each other for this blink of a lifetime? Perhaps the traditional sense of relationships work for some, and I adore them for it. But perhaps it just doesn’t work for others, and I adore us for it too. Perhaps my trauma doesn’t have to be the answer for every “problem” I have. Maybe this is just Willemien being Willemien. I do not have the answer, and I do not know how to express myself in this regard. I do not know how to tell someone that you are fantastic, I’m so honoured and lucky to have you in my life, but I might not be in a “relationship” with you forever. I know how it reads – the player, the slut, the commitmentphobe. Things that to me do not really exist but are just projections of people’s fears. I have realised that in this journey, that I am having in my early thirties and might still have in my fourties, fifties, or forever because I might never find the answer I’m looking for, all I can do is be honest. So here I am, just a human with so much love to give, hoping that someone out there will understand what I’m saying and will accept me for who I am.
Into the Willes 