February: Repeating & Repairing

Life is weird. Each day feels the same as the last, one moment after the next. Wake up, go to school, work, exercise, shower, eat, repeat. Oftentimes, life feels monotonous, uneventful. Many times I’d complain to my mother that life is boring. She told me boring is good and no news is better than bad news. I agree. But today I was thinking back on where I was 4, 8 even 10 weeks ago when I arrived to Barcelona. I think about how different my life and things are now compared to 2 and a half months ago.

When I arrived on November 19th I was petrified. Suffering a whole host of health issues and recently diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder, I didn’t think I would make it to Europe. But by the grace of God, I mustered up the strength to come. I remember getting to my apartment and a tall, handsome guy walked up to me. “Hey I’m John, do you live here?” His smiling, friendly face and welcoming demeanor made me feel relieved after traveling for 12 hours. The following day I would go on to meet the people who became the nuts and bolts of my continental move. We took classes every day Monday to Friday and worked our asses off to get certified as English teachers. If it weren’t for these people, I don’t think I would’ve been able to finish my program. Thanks to them, I found a home across the world, without being anywhere close to home.

In the midst of it all, I made the decision to start dating since I had consciously removed myself after a series of traumatic events 6 months prior. Although I thought it would be a good idea to “put myself back out there” I didn’t have the best start. Needless to say, I was unimpressed by the Catalan men and because of a string of disappointing dates (if you could even call them that) I was beginning to question if I was ready to open my heart again. Deep down I wanted something committed, deep down I felt ready for a serious relationship after being single for so long. To my surprise after date number 3, I began meeting some incredibly “nice” guys and my luck started turning up. I not only met good guys but I went on more dates than I had ever been. Luckily, I started enjoying the process of dating and throughout December I met a couple “high quality” people. I liked that my taste in men appeared to be improving. That was until I got ghosted by someone I began to like after he chose another girl over me. In reality, however, I can’t even be mad because I did the same thing to someone else after he made a comment I really didn’t like. I’ve accepted the fact that nobody owes us an explanation and we can’t be mad at people for doing what’s best for them. You win some and you lose some, it’s the circle of life.

After my TEFL training, I left for Rome to spend the holidays with my family. It didn’t take long for me to go on a Tinder date but the guy was so sweet that after that night I didn’t want to meet anyone else who could ruin my image of Italians. On Christmas Eve I was feeling somewhat pretty so I did what I swore I wouldn’t do and texted my ex; you all know him very well by this point. (In my last blog, I was on my way to Italy if you recall). Feeling defeated that I let myself down by texting noodle, I was in shock when he walked up to me and instead of the usual falling head over heels like I’d done many times before, I looked at him and felt absolutely… nothing? It’s a weird thing, seeing somebody you’ve known for years and then really seeing them for the first time. Here he was, walking over to me like he’d done dozens of times, with his grey puffer jacket and his hands in his pockets. With his black pants and the little flip he does with his head that pushes back his hair, his half smile… everything I fell in love with, everything I once wanted, everything at one point I would’ve given anything to have. Here he was, and I felt nothing.

“Oh hey”. We hugged. He took me on his moto, we sat in front of the Colosseum with all the lights in the crisp Italian air, we walked the streets at 3 in the morning on Christmas Eve. It was, what I once would’ve deemed romantic, except this time it wasn’t. I looked at him and I saw him, for the person he is and always was. It was I who gave him meaning, I was I who looked at him like he put every star in the sky. It was never him, it was me.

There came a point in the night when I went back to his house and he cooked me dinner. None of his roommates were home. I wondered what was going to happen… I lay on his bed, no shoes, no jacket. A bed I had been in before, naked. He sits down and looks into me with his hazel eyes. The eyes I fell in love with almost two years ago, the eyes I could never resist, the same eyes that once made me crumble. His fingers grazed my skin, tracing my wrist, painting over my clothing. “Lorena,” he said, drawing his hand up my thigh to hold mine “I love you”. I blankly stare back. My lips pursed. I say nothing. How convenient it is that he loves me when we are sitting in his bed. How convenient he loves me when I no longer want him. How fucking convenient. His gaze moves to my neck, his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Can I kiss you?” He pleaded. “No” I snap back. Really? What the fuck? You ghosted me, you ended it WITH ME, you are the one who broke my heart over and over again. So no, you can not kiss me. And you will never be able to kiss me again.

He drove me home, we did the Italian goodbye, he texted me the next day to thank me for my friendship and that was that. I haven’t thought of him since. It’s an odd thing, falling out of love with someone who was once your world. It seems like such a minuscule thing but to me this moment was everything. It’s a moment I’d fantasized about for a long time. It’s a moment I dreamt would never come. And it felt great. For once and for all I was liberated. I had moved on. Finally, I was free.

After spending some time in Salamanca with my friend from back home, I moved into my “apartment” in January. I use air quotes because it was just a room and a bathroom but that’s about as good as it gets in Barcelona. I began taking Spanish lessons. I was busy, and I was stressed. I didn’t like Barcelona that much; the people, the language, the tourists, the cost. The only thing I had to look forward to was my Spanish class, my friends, and the nice weather. Romantically, I decided to get off of the dating apps and solely focus on myself since a lot has been going on. I recently moved to Madrid and until I get settled here, I plan on concentrating on establishing myself so that I feel more grounded overall. I have been talking to somebody and notice when the codependent urges arise. Instead of judging or criticizing them, I question them. I lean in and ask them to tell me more. Where do you come from? What do you need? I will continue to practice acknowledging what guidance is coming from my higher self versus the noise that stems from my neuroses, anxiety, and hurt, inner child. My life has been a consistent lesson in repeating or repairing. When it comes to unhealthy dynamics, what we repeat, we must repair. And once we repair, we are less likely to repeat. I am committed to breaking my dysfunctional patterns, particularly when it comes to romantic relationships but in other areas too, such as food (more on this in the future). Oftentimes, our wounded habits overlap in more ways than one, and for me, this is very prevalent when it comes to my body. But I’m dedicated to doing the work, to putting in the effort in attempts to heal what created the shadow in the first place.

By saying no to Mr. Noodle, part of me was transformed. I got the closure I wanted, not so much with him but more in myself. I was proud, I felt strong in the face of someone who once made me feel incredibly weak. By ending things with a guy I went out with after he made a comment I didn’t like, I again felt empowered in my decision. To walk away at the first sign of a red flag is not something I take lightly because my past self was accustomed to ignoring 50 red flags until they turned into one giant abusive relationship. I’d made excuses or rationalize and justify the behavior. Then when I was knee-deep in the toxicity, I’d recall the warning signs I overlooked and ask myself why I didn’t know better. I’m still practicing following my internal compass, tuning in, and paying attention to my body. Not talking myself into or out of something that doesn’t feel good. I’ve realized my inner wisdom is always present but it is in fact, extremely quiet. After pushing it down for nearly 30 years, it may take some time to rebuild back up. I used to ask myself how or why I got myself into dangerous, heartbreaking situations. I used to ask God why he wasn’t looking out for me. I used to blame myself for being naive and “stupid”. The truth is, the inner knowing was always there, I just wasn’t listening. Intuition is like a muscle, the more time we spend nurturing it, the stronger it grows.

I continue to have moments of self-doubt but they have become few and far between. Saying no has become easier and I’m apologizing less and less for taking care of myself, even if it means being the villain in another person’s story. My focus has recently shifted from finding the love of my life to concentrating on recovering my health. Right now the person who needs my attention most is me, so I intend to give it to her. I want to remind you that life is not stagnant. Our path is not a straight line but instead, a bunch of scribbles. It’s okay for priorities to shift, it’s OK to reroute. It’s actually a good thing. It means you’re growing; it’s a sign you’re onto something greater than what you previously thought. Life is a game of repeating and repairing. In our most difficult moments, it feels as if the universe is testing us but what if instead, it was training us? In the times we repeat, we are training for what’s to come. We are training for the moment we repair.