CF AND RELATIONSHIPS

Relationships as a whole is gunna be hard to genialise as I’ve not had much experience personally. Not to mention relationships and CF come as varied as the individual. So, I’m going to mostly speak of my attitude to romantic relationships and hope you can avoid the same mistakes I made. I am happy after learning what I have my romantic future will be much more successful and fulfilling.

I went through the normative stages of early crushes, school girlfriends that consisted of hand holding, kisses playing truth or dare, dates being chaperoned by parents etc.

I was pretty popular in primary school but had my confidence knocked changing schools. I had the odd crush but generally in my life I can count the women I’ve had feelings for on my fingers. So, in terms of my self-definition as a hopeless romantic, I may be leaning more towards just hopeless. I have questioned a few times if this is normal but hay-ho.

In school I had one relationship with a girl called Pippa, but I can’t call it a mature one. She was my first “snog” but rarely saw each other outside of school. I also had a long-term crush on Holly from year 7 to leaving college. Nothing happened, I never even told her how I felt. I felt that was for a good reason. Back in school I was pretty annoying, and I was told at one point I was even considered a bully of sorts to some of my friends. Talking to them recently I found it was the odd comment that was seen as mean. I never thought of it as bullying and they can see in hindsight I never meant to be malicious in it, and I had changed a lot in my time in school. I was also sometimes unaware of how I sound to some people.

As a result, at 14, I wanted to make changes to who I was as a person. I started trying to make myself a better person. What really triggered the change was when Holly was walking slightly ahead of me and stopped to ask if I could walk ahead. She said she felt uncomfortable with me walking behind them. I had a habit of making people jump for fun, so I suspect it was that, but I hope it wasn’t anything else. Either way I made big changes and by the end of school we were close friends. I think I needed to tone down the hyperactivity to a more tolerable level. I would always try to cheer others up. Be a bit of a clown or tell a silly joke. I had another close friend of mine tell me to go away while she was crying because “because I know what you’re gunna say.” I didn’t know how to sympathise very well, but I felt deep empathy for others. To be honest, I took it personally when she assumed I couldn’t just sit with her during that time. 

Shortly before leaving school, I had heart surgery and almost died in intensive care. I watched as my grandad had to go call my mum to get them there asap as I could pass way from what was happening. It was so strange. I hated the thought of hurting my family and friends like that. I know death is inevitable for all of us but I felt somehow responsible. From then I didn’t think it responsible to find a relationship. My life expectancy was still only 30-odd so my thinking was “Why is it fair for me to potentially start a life with someone if I was going to pass away and leave them having to start all over again older and with their own scars and maybe fewer options.”

So, that was my life. I still continued to work on myself and, even now, I try to continue to do so.

I was in my mid 20’s that I realised what a poor mindset that was and I made myself open for finding love. Only problem is, by then everyone already seemed paired off and my quiet life had little opportunities to meet new people.

I finally fell in love for the first time in an unexpected way. It started in lockdown after a simple friendly message to see if I was doing well in the pandemic.

 I remember the feeling at first it started with butterflies with the messages. Something I had experienced before so I didn’t think anything about it. She then started randomly appearing in my dreams. Conversations that lasted until early hours. I definitely had a crush but there was something else. A connection I had not felt before in other crushes. I felt understood. I felt seen and safe being vulnerable. I doubted it was love for a long time, it was crazy to fall for someone I never met in person. It was a strange transition. I found myself nearly saying I love you just in conversation a few times. I really thought I was in love. Then, without warning, it would just stop for a few days. Then the time between getting these feelings got shorter and eventually it was how I felt permanently. I felt so guilty on the days I didn’t feel that way, and slightly relieved I hadn’t dropped the L-bomb early. Especially if I didn’t actually feel that way the next day. A few weeks later I finally told her in a letter.  

We were then in a strange situation. We were stuck in lockdown and with her being in Northern Ireland it made traveling across in the lockdown restriction periods so much harder. So, we just made plans for the future; it was weird thinking of dates and plans for the future not knowing when we could finally meet. 

Sadly, it didn’t last. It ended that November. It hit me hard.

I learned recently for her it was just an infatuation and that she believes love is enduring the hard times. I see her point but for me that’s not what love is, it’s why we love. Love is in some way a choice. Love is the reason we don’t give up, not the act itself. Love is different from infatuation in a few ways. Infatuation is seeing them on a shallow level, as a perfect being. It more a version of them you project onto them rather who they really are. Complete with unrealistic expectations, impossible standards, pure lust (so in her defence we had all that, and as time went on, I was praying she wasn’t building an unrealistic version of me.) Daniel Sloss sums it up perfectly in his show jigsaw. Infatuation is that perfect 3 months he talks about. Unfortunately, that’s what she felt for me.

Love for me, however, is seeing them for who they really are, a deeper level of understanding. I knew more than most on the surface level. Little facts and trivia about her, but our conversations were far from meaningless small talk. For months I learned so much and for some reason it stuck in my mind like they were engraved on the inside of my skull. I could tell you the simple, about her family and friends, her first kiss, her school and work life. Her favourite things. How she likes her coffee and what the first thing she would buy if she won the lotto. I could also tell you the deeper things, her hopes, her dreams, where she goes when she’s sad, her fondest memories, her biggest fears and insecurities, and how she felt about her condition. I know I still had a lot to learn but that itself would have been a goal I would have been happy to take on for the rest of my life. After she was gone, she had done a few things that had hurt me and made my recovery a lot harder. So, in that regard I prayed it was an infatuation. That gave me hope that the heartache I felt would eventually come to an end as I finally saw sense. That never happened I still felt that feeling, that I understood why she did what she did and I even justified it to myself.  

Now I’ve got to admit heartbreak was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to endure. I was depressed, that word gets thrown around a lot, but this was diagnosed by my psychologist. To be clear I didn’t have depression. That is a condition that requires professional help, but I was definitely worse than sad. I had panic attacks and for the first two weeks I hardly ate or slept. It messed me up. I kept looking for distractions until I could get back to my old self. I completed two months of Uni work and 2 essays in two weeks. The flat was spotless, and I was desperately looking for ideas of what to do next. I set out a 5-year plan (I ended up completing that in just a over a year). Still, it took months to lose that sinking feeling in my stomach. That was done with help from a dear friend Kiya. Writing down my thoughts and feelings down in a blog.

Now I’m finally in a good place I even got some closure at just a few days before writing this. Even though for years I couldn’t look at anything on her socials at risk of panic attacks. Somewhere in my home I still have the scrapbook I made and the gift I had collected in lockdown to give to her for valentines. I know that seems like it’s not really letting her go but let me explain my philosophy about this. Don’t worry its related to Cf and not me aimlessly rambling for a change.

I’ve always believed sometimes it’s alright to hold on to some things. I find we live in a world where peoples insecurities are thriving and commonplace in everyone regardless of gender or sexual orientation. We see it all the time on social media, and I see it as really unhealthy. Not going to lie this mindset has upset my partner from time to time and I’m still finding the right balance between respecting her boundaries and living how I feel is true to me.

In this case my scrapbook is important to me. Tee has said how it makes her feel insecure, but I’ve genuinely not been able to look at it since we ended communication. I’ve forgotten what’s even in the gift box. But I still kept it and I hope this explains my mindset, I’ll leave it to you to see if I’m in the wrong for doing so.

I have come across a number of videos of old men and women getting interviewed about their first loves or their marriages.

When they ask them about their first love you see a twinkle in their eye and a warm smile appear on their face. They always speak so sweetly, almost poetically about them. It’s not their current partner or in most cases not the person they had spent their life with, but they would give the same beautiful answer about their partner they did build a life with.

Specifically, I heard of Duane Mann a 90-year-old man looking for his love he had when he was deployed in WW2. They met in Japan, and after developing a relationship, he had plans on flying her over to America and marrying after the war. But on his return his dad was sick, and America wasn’t accepting of Asian people after pearl harbour. They would send letters about plans to get her across. But his mom burnt her replies and they eventually lost contact. She thought he had moved on and he thought she had done the same. They moved on, got married, had kids lived a long and happy life. But when his kids found out his one regret is not seeing her again, they thought they would help out. He lived with the guilt and wanted just a chance to see her again to explain why he did what he did. It made the news and it turned out she did move to America a few years after the letters stopped and she was still alive. Her kids saw him on the news, and they arranged a meet up. It was beautiful. But I noticed you didn’t get the typical comments and remarks if they were 50 years younger. Things like, “he just wanting to see if she was still single”, “He never let her go, how disrespectful is that to his wife”, “he should have never married if he loved someone else” that you would see on other stories similar to theirs.  Why do I have to reach old age before holding found memories becomes acceptable?

It’s not who I am. And it’s this reason why it’s even mentioned on this CF blog. We don’t know how long we have on this earth and I’m not waiting for an age I might not reach. I get it’s a different time today, and I guess the idea is because if you’re younger there’s still time to rekindle the relationship. But a relationship is with two people and if one of them has truly moved on then it’s redundant.

I love the fact if I ever have kids or if I make it to old age, if someone asks about my first love, I can show them what it looked like. And for the pain and heart break, they can look at my partner and the life we had or still have and can see hearts can mend and can still love just as much.

Still when it comes to love and loss, the two will always be hand in hand. So is healing. It’s inevitable.

Now to be grim we have to accept that even the best-case scenario for love we will always hurt the ones we love the most, in a worst way too. I watched an episode about an ambulance service. I forgot the name, but I would never forget this man. He had called them regarding his wife. Devastatingly he had lost his wife in the night. It was unexpected and quick.

 I can still see his grief and him turning to the paramedic and asking what he will do. He explained they married when he was 19 and she was all he knew. They never spent the night apart for 70 years and now she’s just gone. I’m getting whelmed up just typing this. But I can’t understand it. This is what were all aiming for, what we all want?! How is it worth it, why do we want this so bad? I must be missing something.

Then it hit me. Love is like how I want to live my life. It’s not about the ending it’s about the journey. Again, its cliché but its true (Up! The Disney Pixar is a prime example of this). Its building memories. It’s what my life is about, I want to make memories with people. I want to make the world better. Even it means me getting naked… on a couple of occasions. It’s what I planned with Joanna and it’s what I’m doing with Tee. If you take anything away from this rant of a chapter, take this. Make memories because no one will remember your leaving but they will always remember you, and your time together. And if you’re really lucky you’ll find someone that reminisces about even the smallest things. Like the morning texts and bitmoji we used, the letters we sent and the random questions we would ask so the conversations never ran dry. The videos they make me on social media, the way they smile as she’s falling asleep, the way they steal the blanket at night. With that kind of love who needs adventures when life can be complete with the tiniest things.

I think of my heart as a room, and the things in that room represent the things that you love. For example, you have things of your family. Be it chairs or tables. They’re furniture, they have been there for your whole life and the room would look empty without them. Then, when you fall in love, they fill the room. They are things that are more a home. Think of the cliché bachelor’s pad. The furniture is there, maybe some things from the hobbies they like, but it lacks the homely touches. Look at the cliché married house, they have little ornaments, wayyy to many cushions on the bed purely for decoration. A bathroom filled with skin and hair products. That’s your partner.

Using the same analogy, when it comes to find healthy love it’s important not to remove the things that are you. Don’t change who you are for your partner or forget your own dreams and hopes. These are like the style of your house (mine is a cozy cottage with reading nooks and warm colours. I wouldn’t change it for someone else. It is ok to add the odd thing here and there… like a huge TV)   

Now Joanna used to fill my room with little pieces of furniture and decorations, it was healthy it was still me but it felt like home. It felt safe. Now in that room she has a tiny box on a shelf. It is sentimental and an important part of the room. Look after your room; it will never get too full but make sure you fill it with the right things.