Reflecting Back

It’s interesting being in another grad program after having completed a grad program last year, especially when I had some tremendously painful experiences in that grad program. I went into my MFA believing that I would come out of it with a newly rebuilt life, surrounded by the people I loved and cherished most, and in a way, this did happen. I just imagined other people would still be here with me. And really, when I think about everything those two people put me through, I’m glad they’re not here any longer. But sometimes it’s easier to be sad over the things we’ve lost than it is to see the upside to their absence. I used to get angry at the idea that my miscarriages could have been blessings, but when I started going through my divorce and realized just how abusive my ex was, I realized I didn’t want him in my life. At all. And if we’d had our two babies, I would be stuck dealing with him over custody and visitation. So now I do see my miscarriages as a blessing, one my body gave me long before I ever realized my marriage would come to any kind of end.

This absence, likewise, is a blessing, even though it’s left scars for me to try and mend. When people love-bomb you, tell you that they consider you living with them as a blessing (after you’ve asked them to tell you if they want you to find your own place because you know that you’re going through a hell of a lot and you don’t want to bring your own shit into their lives), and when they make you feel like you are safe with them, the hammer falling and shattering the facade is something I can only describe as emotional torture. It’s hard looking back and seeing how many red flags there were from the start, and how willingly I allowed myself to be lead into an unsafe living situation with two people who were not trustworthy. As my therapist has said more than once, the impulse to believe the best in people is admirable, until that impulse leads us to question our own instincts.

I didn’t just question my instincts, I rationalized them away by saying I was just feeling insecure from my marriage, that these were trauma responses, that I needed to learn to trust again if I was going to be in any kind of close, personal relationship with anyone. Codependency at its finest. My therapist has said that it’s always wise to be mistrustful of relationships that feel like home super fast. And it’s not that we can’t have immediate connections with people, but those connections that feel especially close from the beginning are not always the healthiest. Some people, whether they mean to or not, feel safe when they are anything but. And I did immediately feel at home with these two people, and it was a temporary balm to the pain of my divorce, so I welcomed it gladly.

I should have been more alert, more attentive to the red flags. Things that I thought were temporary issues (namely money and paying rent on time) ended up carrying over into every single month. And despite the fact that I was paying an equal part of the rent and utilities (and at times I was paying more than my fair share), I was not given autonomy in the home we shared. I couldn’t have people over without asking permission, and unless that person and I spent time in my room with the door shut, I wasn’t given any privacy with my friends. It had to be a group activity with myself, my guests, and my roommates. And this went both ways with their guests, too. I was always invited to play board games with them, and there wasn’t anything wrong with that at all, but I felt very much like I couldn’t say no. I felt like we were always more than roommates, except when it came to me having an equal share of the living space, or an equal say in the expressing and enforcement of boundaries.

So much of this I didn’t even start to unpack until I had been pretty much kicked out. (What else do you call giving someone the silent treatment for weeks on end and making them feel like so much of a burden that they can’t even go into the kitchen to make their own food?) With no warning, no explanation, and no opportunity for reconciliation, I was made to feel so incredibly uncomfortable in a space that was as much mine as it was theirs, that I had to try and move out within a single day. This was better for me anyway as it meant I didn’t have to worry about getting eviction notices every single month, or notices of late fees piling up that were going unpaid. But it didn’t make it hurt any less, especially considering everything I had already gone through up to that point.

I will not ever allow myself to be taken advantage of like that again. And I do share an equal part of the toxicity that was allowed to form because when I should have voiced my boundaries, I kept them to myself. When I should have expressed my own needs, I stayed silent. They made their choices and I made mine, and none of it lead to anything healthy or respectful. If I had been open about my boundaries and expectations, I likely would have known how toxic they were much sooner and spared myself the stress and uncertainty I carried for weeks. But hindsight is 20/20. And through it all, I learned huge lessons about myself and how easy it is for me to take the cruelty of others and erase it. I have since then allowed myself to speak more openly about my thoughts, feelings, needs, and boundaries, and I have been called a bitch multiple times because of it.

Good. It means I’m finally not shrinking myself for everyone else’s benefit. If people want to make me the scapegoat so they don’t have to confront their own insecurities, then that’s fine. I’m going to keep living my best life surrounded by the people who have cared about and supported me through everything. In a few months, I’ll be in a place where I could afford a cheap apartment on my own, if it came to that, and I am beyond thrilled to see myself moving in such a positive direction. This is how we rebuild our lives: lesson by lesson, brick by fucking brick.