First Wedding Anniversary

Disclaimer: #badblogger Andddd this was meant for May...

Congratulations! We Survive Year One!

 I wonder if I could get the Mister into suspenders....

Let me start from the very beginning.

The very evolution of my age corresponding with my idea surrounding love and marriage.

Chapter One: Monogamy As Dictated by Disney 

#relationshipgoals (so I thought...)

When I was in elementary school, I was convinced that there was only one formula, boy and girl meet and boy and girl fall in love and boy and girl get married. I even disliked James Bond, because he was in my mind a complete outlier in this formula and I did not like the idea of him loving multiple women, even at ten this was utterly repulsive to me. Relationships were defined by Disney and I bought into the conditioning that this was the life I should aspire to pursue. I also was given this false idea that everyone had to be married and would definitely get married, myself included. There was no doubt in my mind. I was going to have a wedding though I never had any inkling of who or how I would meet this groom.


Chapter Two: When I Actually Was the Real Life Tina Belcher

Accurately depicts my middle school misplaced obsession with Asian dramas...

When I was in middle school, about 13 years of age, I was enthralled with the depictions of romance in Asian dramas and manga...episodes of epic tales of romance, misunderstandings, near-misses and with all my tiny tween heart could hope for: a happy ending. I was awkward, believed I was chubby and yet had no reservations or fear about my choice of non-branded clothing, my thick glasses or my braces. No boy had a crush on me and while any boy who was nice to me, I liked...there was no slow dancing except once with a platonic friend and a hideous occasion in PE when we were forced to dance with each other.

(We were actually told in PE that we were never allowed to say "no" to a boy who asked you to dance because it was rude and feelings could have been hurt. #truestory #WTF #rapeculture )

At this time, I also had a couple of serious crushes (both coincidentally were red headed buffoons) that were as misplaced and embarrassing as my love for F4, Meteor Garden, Meteor Rain and Meteor Garden II (if you don't know what this is it's the Chinese dramatized version of Hana Yori Dango and hopefully you don't know what it is!) I was not so secretly upset when my dad asked me every single time he picked me up from a school dance, "Did you dance with anyone?" The answer was always no.


Chapter Three: In Which A Lot of Bad Poetry is Written 

Ah to be young. 

When I was in high school, while my fascination for romance had not quelled itself I was surrounded by a lot of other individuals who wondered the same thing. I genuinely pondered if I would ever be married one day - it was unimaginable as much as getting a high paying career. Or graduating from the high school for that matter. I still had never been asked to dance (OR someone I wanted to have asked me) and never ever had been close to having a boyfriend. My group of friends soared in numbers, all female and all struggling through the awkward, trying periods of high school together. To this day despite having only retained a single friendship from the group, I am grateful for their companionship during these years when I needed them most. We were resolute to be together and celebrated every prom dateless, but damn proud of it.

It was during these years that I had developed my first serious crushes. They were upperclassmen, charming, goofy, strong and handsome with big careers in sports. They knew I existed because we shared the same Japanese class but either found my awkwardness that badly masked itself as "misdirection" from my obvious affection or found it purely amusing. I was devastated when my ex-best friend who was fully aware of how much I liked one of the boys, made a move on one because in a twist of fate she happened to have a friend in common that put her in closer proximity. While I remember their faces clearly as their names and am still in possession of some intense high school girl poetry inspired by both of them, I cannot remember why I liked them so much, I hardly knew either of them.

By the time I was 16 then 17 years old, I had a stalker. He followed me around school, skulking behind bushes, constantly messaged me on AIM after school and encouraged his friends to spy on me. I was disturbed by this intense fixation he had with me which soon became rage when he debated with me as to why we were meant to be together,

"You're not going anywhere in life. Why do you try so hard? Don't you see we belong together, since we're both not really going to go anywhere in life?"

He also wrote to me once saying that he wanted to meet my future boyfriend and ensure he was good enough for me. In a moment of uncharacteristic confidence fueled by his disrespect, I marched over to him across the school yard and ordered him to never speak to me again. It was later brought to my attention that apparently my rejection had inspired a lot of bad poetry.


Chapter Four, Part One: I Find Myself Finally...And Then It is Lost 

Finally a place I belonged. 

When I was in college, I still invested myself in romance but this time through RPG. My imaginary characters whose prowess and success in love vastly surpassed my own. I was greatly alarmed by the fact my younger sister had already been dating and was one boyfriend number three. I tried to avoid family functions, mortified when people asked me repeatedly, "So, boyfriend yet?"

I lived vicariously through my friends' loves and losses. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I was single and also powerful, armed with the new knowledge that I hungrily absorbed through my education in Women's Studies, Gender Studies, Ethnic Studies and Sociology classes. I had no time for boys and worked my ass off to get good grades.

I told friends again and again, the dogmatic truth at the time: I never wanted to be touched and I didn't need the love of a man to keep me sustained, warmed or entertained. I truly was happy, a little scared but I had a plan. My friends at the time were the circle of love I embraced and the support that I needed. We devised a plan to live together, co parent and support one another emotionally and financially.

And then I met "him." His name meant the North Star in his mother tongue. A tattoo designed around it was then later added to his right upper arm beneath the shoulder. He fancied himself the best of "everything" particularly track and soccer. He was nice to me. Yes I know it was a pathetically low standard, but no one taught me self esteem and self confidence, not the way I taught myself now.


Chapter Four, Part Two: The Death and Rebirth of Miss Chinny  

When I was in college, I learned how to love and how I learned how it was to be broken. I learned how isolating and lonely it was to be trapped in a loveless love and just how insidious toxic relationship abuse is. It was a lonely lesson. I had never felt so alone with someone in the same room. I learned I would be blamed for my own demise. I learned that people I believed to be friends were not safe an could not be trusted. The stinging words of friends who perhaps unbeknownst to them did not realize their careless vitriol got back to me, will never be forgotten even as time has left the relationship in the dust. I learned nobody would save me, I had to be my own hero. It was then that I learned how to spot abuse and how to escape it.

It took four years, but I survived.


Chapter Five: Fully Schooled in Dating Douchebags  

Learn how to cut and run/Easier said than done

When I was a post-grad, I still had #endgoals but I was lost in the war of millennial dating. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be respected. I wanted to be powerful. I wanted in my hearts of hearts, everything that I had been denied when I was with my first boyfriend. I wasn't heard. I wasn't appreciated. I wasn't valued. The best parts of me had died. The happy artistic fun loving person I had been was squashed out of me by the bullying, by the emotional abuse. Now that I was free, I scarcely knew where to begin. I felt like trashed property and did not even feel like I belonged to myself. My first mistake. I was looking for someone to belong to even though the only person who needed me and who should have wanted me, was me. I dated a lot. Hilarity and heart break ensued. Then a second boyfriend, a second chance but he was just another disappointment with a new name. I was at a low point in my life. I was not desperate because I knew that being single was always with a viable option, but I wanted a definitive answer from the universe: was I meant to be with anyone?

Chapter...Here We Are!

#threecharacterchallenge

I don't know if it was fate or algorithms, but Radkyl messaged SpotAChinny. Six degrees of separation and yet it took OkCupid to intervene in our fates. In one another, we found joy we had never experienced with someone that was not more than a mere companion. There was suddenly all the things we had been denied and found lacking in our previous relationships: genuine and unadulterated happiness that was not mediated by bad behavior or suspicion or pure stupidity.

And so here we are, two years later and one year into marriage.

It is always harder and harder to believe we made found one another as time goes on and I come into contact with a lot of "might have beens" or witnessing second hand the perils of millennial sex, dating and relationship culture. I already knew how challenging it is. I had been broken before; there is nothing more terrifying than to be vulnerable with someone. To allow yourself to be vulnerable with someone and to trust them the way my dogs do by turning over on their backs because they know I would never strike them in the jugular. But to trust a person is a feat that even the dogs do not realize is so incredibly brave.

To trust someone and to be vulnerable with someone can mean a lot of things and can be applied to myriad scenarios, one of which is falling in love.

In truth, I have only truly been in love with two men in my life. Each time was a significant person who was meant to influence me, change me and challenge me. It is easier to hate someone than it is to love someone. Hate implies that you do not forgive the person and that there is no resolve, no closure and not want to make things work. Hates means you do not look inward to change, you can always blame the other person. You are free to disagree, but in my experience to love someone is much much more complicated and a helluva lot harder.

Why?

Forgiveness. Forgiveness is an art I am still learning. Saying what you mean and meaning what you say is another lesson I am learning. In anger and in the midst of vindictive and vitriol fights, you explode and sometimes the most horrible things arise. The way you fight is evidence of how a relationship is meant to be. Do you go for the low blows, do you bring up past transgressions - can you let things go? Can you forgive? It is not easy. That is why it is harder to love someone, because nobody is perfect.

No relationship is perfect and you are not in love 100% of the time.

I look back on the chapters of investigation and experience with the concept of "love" and I was totally unprepared to fall in love and what it took the first time and now the second time. Because the thing is, love is not logical. The heart and head do not want much to do with each other when it happens. The heart is centered in the concept of body, though we know physiologically this is not the case (the heart is actually not in the middle of your chest) but the heart and body almost act together to override your mind. Most of the time the person of your designs is exactly the opposite of what you set out to find, this is where the logic is lost.

Logically, I knew my first love was not going to work, but that truth was buried deep within me, dormant and undiscovered. All I knew was despite everything, all the faults and all the reasonings and real, honest to earth issues with him, I genuinely was in love. This of course repulsed a lot of people, myself included, but when I said I had not forgotten those who stood with me during this dark time and who had said things that wounded me deeply - I remember every one of you. It took a lot of bravery to save myself, because it was during that time that I realized two things: the people who loved me, but more importantly that no one would love me as much as I could love myself.

Got to love all of you. 

Falling in love with yourself is often mistaken or simplified even vilified as narcissism: believe me it is not the same thing.

I did not love myself. But I began to wonder, if I was not important, if I was not worthy of love...who would love me?

I thought the answer would be someone out there in the world I had not met yet. But the real person was right there the whole time: me.

I had it in me all along. 

It hurt me every single time the Shrub told me I was essentially unloveable, unsalvageable and made me feel like his garbage. He used me and he abused me. He left me a shell of the person I thought I was, but the Shrub greatly underestimated my strength and resilience. No matter how weak I was perceived to be including by my own self when I felt I was drowned in frustration, anger and profound sadness, I was with myself. I had abandoned hope, but no matter how I ran and wherever I went, I was with myself. Depression is as isolating as abuse. It took me a while to realize that there were helping hands to be found and there was even one within me.

Yes, it is very hard to love. To love another person and to love oneself. The art is delicate, life long and a process.

So now, I am learning how to love another.

First, we learned about one another. Our personalities, our dreams, our aspirations, our fears...our families. Two households both alike in dignity...We were stunned to realize we had grown up only miles from one another, we shared the same schools, the same teachers, we had both been horribly bullied, we both had not been our parents' favored child, we both had been abused by partners, we both were passionate and tempestuous and we were both taking a last look into the world for maybe one last opportunity for a mate.

The thing is we are both afraid. We have been hurt before. We have been reviled by people who said they loved us. We have hated ourselves. We are scared. We fear loss. We fear rejection. We feel alone and struggle to wayfind in the weeds.

We have been each alone so long that sometimes I admit I forget that I have a partner now and I don't have to do everything myself and it is okay to be helped. It takes getting used to have someone care about you who inherently there.

I have seen love in many people and I am always glad when people find their people, start their lives together or better yet, when someone I love starts the greatest love affair with their own self. But now having been through the process, I have learned I do not want else's happiness except the one that is uniquely mine. Their happy is not my happy. I would never be happy with their partner or their life, but I have my very own to live, to discover and to cherish. Comparisons and one-upmanship is delusional and colossal waste of pettiness but more importantly: time. You only have one life to live and it is best spent in love with oneself and in love with the life you lead.

Ainsley knows.

Nobody needs anyone in order to live a wonderful and complete life. I'll say it once, I'll say it again, marriage has not made me a romantic, I'm very much a cynic. Or as my dear friends determined: a realist.

Realistically, I am married, but I always know that even if I am not there is nothing wrong with me and if you are reading this are married or want to be married or do not want to married or are not married...there is nothing wrong with you either. We have to destroy the idea that marriage is the only acceptable #endgame or #relationshipgoals.

Me and the Mister are the only two people who need to understand our relationship and our bond to one another.

Here's to one year - it was no small miracle.