Why being in a relationship doesn’t make you complete?

Short answer: because you’re already complete on your own.

Long answer: stick around to figure it out.

 

Since I was six years old, my family meetings, the ones where the whole family (grandparents, cousins, uncles and relatives who came out from god knows where) gather together over a three hours long lunch to talk around pretending they don’t hate each other 90% of the time, (Italians things, basically) worked out like this:

uncle n1: “hi sara! You grew up a lot! Have you found yourself a boyfriend?”

me: *is to shy to say anything*

cousin n2: “so, is there any boy you like??”

me: *same as before*

uncle n3: “so why haven’t you introduced us to your boyfriend? You have one right?”

me: *think of ways I could plan their murder*

cousin n2 again: “you know that I had been with my boyfriend for three years at your age??”

me: *actually burst out crying and have a break down at the age of 8 and never talk to them after that expect for hi and goodbye”

I’m almost twenty now, and next weekend I have the wedding of cousin n2. What do you think will happen?

 

I know, every family does this. Every uncle or aunt or grandpa ask these questions again and again, but it’s not okay.

I’m tired of feeling like having a boyfriend (let’s talk about the heteronormativity here) or a relationship is the ONLY important thing about me.

What about my studies? My future? My achievements? What about asking me what my favourite subject at school was or what is my best friend ‘s name? What about asking me if I found something that makes me heart beat faster that is not a boy? What about my trips? Or the places I’ve visited? What about where did I learn to do my make up, or if I read a good book lately?

 

I’m tired of feeling like having a relationship or a boyfriend must be my goal in life; “get a boyfriend, marry in the town church, have a couple of babies and you’ll be happy!” who said that?

As if I can be complete and 100% ME only if I’m in a relationship, as if I need someone who tells the I’m pretty to feel like it, as if I can’t be whole without another human telling me he is my “half”.

I’m no half.

My body, my brain, my heart, they are complete.

I don’t NEED to share them with someone to feel like I’m finally myself, if I do it, it must be my choice. I chose to let someone in, to share my thoughts and experiences and life, but it’s not a need.

I am inviting them into my home, letting them sit on the sofa, take delight in the warmth of the fire I created. And yes, maybe one day they’ll let me into their homes. And maybe one day we’ll find out we like that, to share our homes. And we’ll move them one next to the other.

But my home, my body, my mind, they’ll never belong to anyone but me.

I am mine, before I am anyone else’s. So no, I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t want one, and I’m happy.

Take care,

Sara

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The Castle Of Glass

It’s pretty funny, when your life turns upside down. When, one day everything is as it has always been, and your life is full with your securities and your usual plans and the next day,  BOOM, the only thing that remains is dust.

Your precious castle of glass is now nothing but crystals on the marble floor, and you stand there watching and wondering how, since you were pretty sure there was not even a crack on its walls. And when someone leaves us, the castle becomes just a silly illusion and you stand there watching the pieces cursing yourself for not having broken it before. You should have known it, right?

And then you go on. You think you feel okay, that in one month the pain will go away..but it doesn’t work that way. It’s been ten months now, and you start to think that one of the fragments of the castle got stuck somewhere in your organs, because it still hurts. Maybe in the liver, or in the stomach. All seems to go well, and then you hear a song, a word, a smell, you see that person’s favorite color or a phrase they loved, you end up in your old photos by mistake (yes, the ones you didn’t have the strength to remove) and the fragment begins to burn and sting all the rest of the body. With its sharp and pointed ends, that talk all too often of “why me?” “Talk to me again” “tell me why.” And all the memories, the good ones and bad ones, they return like a hurricane.

Funny, that in those moments, we remember all the good times, when perhaps we should remind ourselves of the others, those that we tried so desperately to hide …of the nights spent in the suffocating pain, the unspoken words, the things we forgot, the promises that became the dust on which we walk every day. And we can not help but wonder how they are, what they are doing, if they found someone else, if only for a millisecond, before closing their eyes, at least once,they have thought of us. And when we discover it, ouch. Perhaps the most painful thing of all this is to see the people who have reduced us like this, get on with their lives. To see them smile, find someone else, tell them the things that once they said to us, hear their laughter.

It’s stupid that our last word was the silence.

But perhaps in the end, it was the only thing that remained.

Now we have to fill it with something else, because this life is worth so much more than our disappointments, it is worth more than broken hearts, and if only we try to notice it, the wonderful sound of this life is trying in every way to break down the door and fill the silence. So maybe we should let him.

With love,

Sara

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