It’s a strange thing to be simultaneously dating while performing a marriage autopsy. As I enter new stages with a new person, I scan back to the same stage I was in before to look for signs that I’m doing something different but, ultimately, feeling terrified that I’m doing the exact same thing without really being aware of it. I’m trying to compare what I felt, what I thought, what I did back then with how I’m showing up now, but I can’t truly remember all the details. Perhaps that’s a saving grace.
What I do really remember, however, was not liking myself when I was with Jason. I felt judgy and critical and distant, and I hated that. Instead of attributing it to the fact that we might not be a good match, which is not a judgement on either of us, I told myself it was because one of us wasn’t good enough, and I pushed harder and harder on us both to be better. It took far too long to see that neither of us were actually “the problem,” a revelation with massive implications that took even longer to accept.
I recently read a question someone asked themselves when they were in a “good on paper” relationship that changed how they viewed it: Is there someone else who could love this person better than me? When Jason and I had our final conversation that led to separating for good, I remember saying something like this. I told him, “You shouldn’t have to be perfect to be loved; I want you to be with someone who will love you fully in a way that I can’t, and I also want that for myself.” I wonder, had someone asked me that question when we were dating, could I have seen the truth? Probably not (I thought I was doing all the right things), but maybe it would’ve sown a seed that changed my perception of love and partnership.
A week ago, I wrote a letter to myself from 2014, the year I was engaged and then got married. I started out with the intention of offering her advice, telling her all the things I wish she would’ve known so that she could’ve avoided causing a lot of hurt. A part of me knew getting married wasn’t the right choice, yet I ignored those whispers of truth. Seeing my past with so much more clarity now sometimes breaks my heart, and I feel a lot of guilt and shame that I didn’t know better.
But, instead offering her advice, this is what I ended up telling her:
Aleesha, you are so delightful, kind, and passionate. You are learning so much about yourself and working so hard to build new ways of being. I am so proud of all the steps you are taking to find joy, find your purpose, find yourself. This shit is hard, and you are so brave to imagine a life that’s different than what you’ve seen before. It’s okay to be gentle with yourself in all of this. Sweet girl, you are doing enough. You have done enough. There’s more time for you to grow and become. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Follow where your inklings are pulling you. Listen to the quiet whispers of the part of you that knows the way.
You’ve relied on your brain so heavily because you learned not to trust that wise part of you, but you can actually believe your intuition, my love. It’s not that your head is wrong, but it just needs to work alongside your heart to create a full picture of what you really need. Your head has done its best, it truly has! But your thoughts, feelings, and inner knowing can work together. Even if you take a wrong turn, my girl, you can ALWAYS get back on the right path. There is no shame in changing your mind. You do the best with what you have, then when new information comes, you can make a new choice.
You are the reason I am here today, and I just need you to know that your passion, vulnerability, and authenticity will take you places you can’t even imagine right now—all because you dared to take the first trepidatious steps into the unknown. I am so grateful for your courage to keep moving ♥
It’s really easy to criticize myself for all the mistakes I made, all the things I didn’t know back then; that’s a well-worn path in my brain. What’s more difficult is looking back with compassion, even love, for the girl that didn’t know the answers but was doing her best to find them; the girl who was willing to experiment, even when it led to failure; the girl who was making brave new choices to change the narrative of her own life. She didn’t always get it right (how could she?) but she found the path to where I am now, and that’s something worth celebrating.
Prompt for journaling and reflection: I wonder if there’s any versions of you that need to be loved—versions of you that were doing their best with what they had, even if you know something different today.
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