Me, Myself, and He Who Shall Not Be Named

I might have a slight issue with letting go

I recently had a heart-to-heart with a girlfriend, an unexpected opportunity to delve into the psyche of womanhood and dig into what is holding me back from personal growth. Some topics we touched on were: my ongoing no-relationship status, concerns about how I project myself in public, and questioning if I am obsessed with talking about He Who Shall Not Be Named, aka the Ex.

Self-sabotage or self-fulfilling prophesy?

My greatest fear as I get older is that I will become my mother. I fear it more than I fear death. This is a double-edged sword for me. On one side, it was a threat thrown at me during the final argument with the ex on the finalization of the divorce. He commonly used it in arguments during the numerous “unhappy years”. In fact, his last words to me before I left: I would end up alone like my mother because he was the only one willing to put up with me. That I wanted to be alone like my mother.

On the other side, my mother is not a good example of post-divorce emotional healing. She had two semi-long term relationships after my father. Neither one worked out for some reason. The last ended when I was in high school. I legit thought she was going to marry that man, she seemed so enamored with him and he seemed to treat her right. All I know is that he asked her to move out to Las Vegas to be with him when he moved for work, and she said no, and that was that. That was 30 years ago, and there’s been no one since.

Relationship Status: It’s not complicated

I compare it to my situation. I haven’t dated anyone in almost 10 years. I strongly believe that before moving on into a relationship with someone else, first one must heal from the previous relationship. Out of respect to a new guy, no one should have to deal with my baggage. There is no timeframe on healing and despite nine years passed, I don’t feel as if I actually started to heal until about two years ago. The first seven years were spent in a sort of suspended animation as I went through the stages of mourning the death of that relationship.

Two years into actual growth and I am not quite yet ready for something. Or am I? I don’t know. I feel like I am, but I am low-key terrified. Fear is the only option. Where is that phase on the rollercoaster ride of grief?

What is my public identity?

We discussed to some degree how I project myself in public. This was of concern as I was about to fly out to Vegas for a work conference and have to network. In the name of furthering my career. Apparently, my divorce was my identity. I was patently wearing my pain out in the open as if it was the be-all and end-all reason for every accomplishment I had achieved to date.

Which is a troubling admission to have to make. Was it healthy that my life script was written to the beats of the biggest trauma of my life? Did that really define me? As a woman? As a capable person? It appeared that for all of my achievements, I was cutting myself down every time I opened my mouth. If I referenced something from my past, I would say, “before the divorce”, “back before I was married” instead of “when I was younger”. I was verbally flagellating myself in public for having had a failed relationship. When it isn’t the thing that made me. I am not who I am now because I got divorced, I am not who I am now because I am no longer married, and not being in that relationship doesn’t have to be excused or explained, or even mentioned.

She challenged me to be aware of how I was referring to myself. To be more mindful to not define it by my past actions. Important if I am going to build a new future on my own merits. Not on the foundation of ghosts and the skeletons in my closet.

He Who Shall Not Be Named

In addition to the other verbal idiosyncrasies, I was showing signs that I was not over the ex. She was like, you talk about him All. The. Time.

Was I obsessed?

Seriously. It was every story. All my anecdotes. Everything became about how much I hate him. How I wanted to smother him with a pillow because the sound of his breathing literally made me murder-ish. Not the signs of a developed, healthy psyche ready to move on with her life.

Third challenge? Don’t talk about him. Don’t bring him up. Find other things to talk about. If I feel the urge to reference Voldemort, consider that nobody brings up the name of the Dark Lord in polite conversation. SO keep that shit wrapped up tight. If I am ever going to really move on to the next stage of my evolution, I have to let that asshole go for real. By first letting go of him in my mind.

So that was my last challenge. Not to talk about him. Don’t bring him up in conversation. Don’t bring up the history. If I am really as over it as I claim to be, then I have to act like it. I should spend more time thinking and talking about myself, and my personal accomplishments, and focus on me, myself, and I.

Challenge accepted.