Anxious love

For a long time, I felt that to love someone was to worry about it.

To be anxious about if they loved me still. To be anxious whether or not they had started to hate me.

This happened for a long time, until one day, it didn't anymore.

First loves are hard

My first love was J, in high school. We started dating in the summer between grade 10 and 11 and it was a dream come true.

I never thought that I would meet someone who would accept me for who I was, at this point knowing that I was very weird and something was wrong with me (autism), as well as being trans (she was bi).

I never thought that I'd have anyone who would ever accept me for who I was, because at this point no one ever had. I felt isolated from my parents and peers and this was my one chance at closeness.

I thought that this was my one and only chance at love.

And because this was my only chance, I couldn't mess it up.

I couldn't mess it up.

I had to make sure I didn't lose my one shot.

She was perfect and I was so undesirable that I could not, could not, mess this up.

So.

Of course, I messed it up.

I asked for reassurances too much, and more importantly we were two stupid highschoolers who were trying to experience love for the first time and it just didn't work out as most highschool loves do.

For me, this was devastating because my one shot was gone. That was it, no one would ever love me ever again.

First love, once again

Of course, I didn't fall out of love with J. I loved her so deeply because I thought she was my one chance and that I had to try to win her back because I had no other options.

Also of course she's a cool person and in hindsight, not a bad choice for someone to be hopelessly in love with for years and years.

She was and still is a good person, in fact we're still good friends, despite everything.

But should I have stayed in love with her for years afterwards? Probably not.

But anyway she clearly also wanted to give it another shot so we attempted a FWB relationship in university, and we quickly fell back in love with each other.

So we had a messy relationship as we both fought through our depression and stress from school, and of course I hadn't changed so I tried to be perfect and never, never, make any mistakes. Intense co-dependence followed.

Any perceived mistakes sent me into spirals of anxiety until I asked for reassurances, the classic OCD experience that I had experienced for years, just intensified through the perception that this was my only shot.

My one shot at love.

Of course.

We broke up again, this time due to my over-reliance on her and the unhealthy co-dependent relationship that we had developed between us.

This time I was even more devastated. This time it was entirely my fault. I was too dependent. I was too depressed and too anxious.

It was my fault. My mental health was what ruined my one chance at love.

I ruined it.

But I could fix it, I had to because she was my one chance at love...

First love, one more time

Years passed, and she moved on to new relationships. I, however, was still stuck on her. I entered into a state of relationship anorexia where I refused to form connections with anyone else due to being attached to her.

I'm asexual and was happy loving her from a distance as a friend. I was happy.

I was happy just being her best friend and hanging out occasionally.

I would be overwhelmed with the desire to just see her sometimes, but that wasn't that bad.

All in all, it wasn't that bad.

Which probably explains why I stayed in that state for another few years.

The entire time, hoping she would just turn around and decide that she still loved me and wanted to try again.

I worked hard on my mental health so that I would be ready for a relationship if she ever gave me a chance.

I worked so hard on myself during those few years, motivated by a desire to improve myself and a chance again at J.

Was this healthy? Did I miss out on other opportunities during those years?

Probably.

Not for a lack of trying, I went to sapphic meetups at university, made new friends, and had the lovely experience of having fantasies about every girl who showed me any kind of attention.

I tried to get over J, but part of me was stuck on the idea that she was my only chance at someone who would truly love me for who I was.

I was so broken, so unlovable, that no one could possibly, no one would possibly ever love me.

This continued until we both graduated university and moved out of our hometown.

Shot through the heart!

During a competition I was attending, I was hit on by E.

E was very nice, and very clear in her desire for us to hang out and have some fun. We ended up cuddling, exchanging contact information, and sharing a chaste kiss by the end of the competition.

We were going to meet each other again at the next conference that we were both attending a week later, so we ended up making plans.

Plans to fool around and have some fun.

In my mind, I knew that this was just a bit of fun, a little sexual adventure for my inexperienced self.

Of course, when we laid in bed, and she told me I was perfect just the way I was, I broke down.

I had never heard anyone say those words to me before, not from J, not from my parents, not from my friends, not from anyone.

I had hurt so much for so long, not being able to love myself, that this reverberated in my soul.

Of course, I hopelessly fell in love with E in that moment.

Perhpas I should take a note from the book and refer to my love as "love". Not quite real but just a manifestation of my addiction and intense desire for any kind of connection.

Perhaps.

But anyway I was hopelessly in love with E, but this was easier for me to let go of because I knew she lived across the world and we were probably never going to interact ever again.

But still, what she said planted a seed within me that would form the foundation of my next relationship.

Stumbling, moving forward, blossoming

After a short lived crush on a friend, I decided to start my adventure into dating apps.

I was ready to find someone new who would love me for who I was, so my profile was very outright.

"I am a trans lesbian, autistic and neurotic as fuck."

I set out the bait of some cute photos and waited for a catch.

I went on a few dates, most of them unmemorable.

One hurt quite a bit, when she told me "I'm just coming off a break up, so 'you know...'". The fuck was that supposed to mean?

Anyway.

Then I met June.

I'll keep it nice and short, but she made me feel loved, truly loved, in a way that was so healthy and good.

She loved me and we were able to just exist together in such harmony and love.

She showed me that I wasn't broken, that I was loveable, that I was someone deserving of such love.

She showed me so much that I'll never forget.

I just wish I was able to love her back in the way that she loved me, that I hadn't just lied to myself that I was in love with this person.

When I realized the lies I was telling myself, I did the right thing and broke up with her.

Healing

Over my relationship with June, I like to think that I've healed quite a bit.

I learned that I could be loved and didn't have to hold on so tight to the relationships that I had.

I could let them go and believe that I could be, would be, loved in the ways that I wanted.

And now I carry that into my future relationships.

Hopefully.

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