NINETEEN YEAR OLDS ARE IDIOTS - #1

Dear Reader,
 
So, it’s been a while since I’ve written. That doesn’t mean I’ve been standing still, of course. I just haven’t had the time, or the clarity of mind to put anything on paper.
Although I’m finally starting to find some ground beneath my feet these days, it’s like there’s still this continuous process running in the background where I’m subconsciously sifting through the contents of my brain and putting every little thing up for revaluation.
Discovering that tiny yet critical piece of the puzzle; finding out what I now know about my father, blew apart everything I thought I knew. And even though it’s been three years, pennies still drop every day. Old memories, experiences, beliefs and conclusions pop up in my mind and are held up to the light of this new information, and it changes everything. It’s like I’m being reconfigured, slowly and meticulously. 
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my past relationship with my ex-husband. It was a long time ago, but with how my perspective has changed, I feel the need to unload some of that stuff. And since I have this space here, I might as well…right?
 
       NINETEEN

Nineteen-year-olds are complete idiots.
Of course, no nineteen-year-old would agree with that statement and I’m 100% sure my adolescent ass would have taken great offence at it. But just between us adults, we can totally smell that typical post-pubescent cocktail of naïve know-it-all-ness and misplaced bullheadedness from a mile away, right? Hey, we’re all adolescence-alumni here, I’m sure we can laugh about it now. In fact, please do me a favour and tell me the funniest, most stupid thing you did when you’d finally made it through puberty and had yourself convinced that you’d mastered life.
                Fine, I’ll go first: I got hitched.  
Yes indeed, at the ripe old age of nineteen, I thought it would be a swell idea to ignore my better judgement and tie the knot with my boyfriend of three years…I know, right?
To be fair, though, I am grossly oversimplifying the situation. It wasn’t just a case of this naïve, stubborn young adult trying to put her parents in line for a coronary. There were a lot of complicating factors at play and although I’m making light of it now, it wasn’t so funny at the time.
Up until recently, if you asked me about my marriage, I would have told you that we were just too young and immature. I understood that our relationship was unhealthy, but more like in a silly, look-how- young-and-naive-we-were kind of way. We both had our issues and we were both very insecure. It was us against the world and we tried to save each other, which we all know is a fantastic foundation for a happy, healthy relationship. Cough.
However, now that I find myself exploring all these situations in the light of more recent insights, I find myself thinking: Wait a minute...what was going on here?!
 
         LEGOLAS
 
So, when I was 16, I met this guy. For privacy’s sake, let’s call him Ben. We met online via MSN profiles, as one did in the early 2000’s, and after chatting back and forth for a while we met up for egg-salad sandwiches at the HEMA one afternoon while I was out shopping with my friends. Oh yes, it was every bit as romantic as it sounds. Admit it, you’re totally jealous.
At that age, I’d never had a serious boy- or girlfriend before and I couldn’t imagine anyone being interested in me like that. Years of bullying and abuse had rendered me socially awkward, anxious and ‘mature for my age’, or as they call it today: traumatized. I had a hard time connecting with people my age, or relating to other human beings in general. So, when it came to casting a line out into the dating pool…no thanks, I think I’ll pass.
Secretly, though, I did long to find someone who knew me through and through, and loved and accepted me anyway. I fantasized about a knight in shining armour who would whisk me away from the world in which I felt so out of place. Ideally, this fantasy person would also magically know my every thought, need and emotion without me having to say a word, and they’d appear and disappear with the snap of my fingers. Because lord knew I was bloody awful at communicating my needs and setting boundaries, and as much as I longed for closeness, I also balked at the nearest sign of intimacy or vulnerability. So, logically, if I somehow managed to find myself an omnipotent, mind-reading wizard, I wouldn’t have to do either of those things. Problem solved.  
The odds weren’t in my favour on that front, though. And so, it came to pass that at sixteen years old, I’d already pretty much resigned to being alone for the rest of my life. Unless, of course, Orlando Bloom magically turned up on my doorstep…
 
 But then the day came that I opened the spam folder in my Hotmail account and stumbled upon a message that would change my life. All of a sudden there was this sweet, cool guy with long blonde hair and a leather jacket, a musician, six years older than myself …and by some miracle, he was interested in me. We had long, deep MSN conversations for hours each day, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. I’d never felt such a connection before. We soon discovered that we lived in the same town, we had mutual friends and we’d unwittingly crossed paths on various occasions. It seemed as though the stars were bringing us together, and I just couldn’t believe my luck.
 
On a Sunday afternoon near the end of summer break, Ben took me to the Amsterdam parade for our first official date. I never really went out and I didn’t leave my tiny little world often, let alone by myself. Quite frankly, I’d never even used public transport before, bar one train ride with my mum. The whole experience felt so liberating; it touched a desire in me that I’d had since I was a little girl: to grow up as fast as possible, get out on my own and live my own life. Ben was giving me a taste of the freedom that I so longed for.
I specifically remember cycling to the train station together, because my bike broke down. Something was dragging, making it very hard to generate speed without busting a lung. I worried that we’d miss our train, when Ben suddenly placed his hand on my back and proceeded to propel me forward for the remaining 4km, stating with a smile: “Don’t worry, I don’t mind cycling for two.”
We made it there on time, and as we stood and watched the street artists, he put his arm around me and I felt butterflies explode throughout my stomach. Then again, I was so nervous I suppose it could also have been an oncoming bout of explosive diarrhoea. I was quiet and shy, and internally I beat myself up for not being more fun and sociable. Ben was really nice to me though.
Thankfully, I did make it home without shitting myself, though my insides were so twisted that I couldn’t even stomach the dessert that my parents had left in the fridge for me for when I got back. I was so overwhelmed, utterly infatuated and scared shitless…
 
I left on a school excursion the very next day and although I was very excited about it before, I was now horrified at the idea of being away for an entire week without internet access. I brought my old brick of a Motorola so that we could keep in touch via text, but having never really used a cell-phone for social purposes, I didn’t even think to bring a charger. This ultimately led to a massive cliff-hanger type situation as the battery died just after Ben asked me whether he should interpret my aloofness the other day as disinterest.
Crap! What if he thought I’d ghosted him, or lost interest? What if he lost interest in me? What if someone else came along and snatched him up while I was gone? My heart pounded in my throat as I used my last percent of battery-power to look up his number and jot it down. And then I ran off to beg my friend to let me borrow her phone. Being the awesome wing-woman she was, she handed it over wilfully and peered over my shoulder as I typed, deleted, typed and deleted until I’d found the perfect words to convey that I was interested, but scared. He responded with relief and understanding, and we agreed to see each other again as soon as possible. 
 
           FIRST KISS
 
Things moved pretty quickly after that first date.
With my Nokia 3310 stashed in my pencil case, we’d shoot text messages back and forth as I yawned my way through my highschool chemistry classes. My MSN status was a billboard for cryptic hints towards my feelings for him, because in the good old’ Messenger days, there was no better way to catch your crush’s attention than to bombard your entire social network with cringy status notifications as you repeatedly logged on and off in hopes that they’d see it.     
Throughout the week, I’d email him letters and poems from my Hotmail account and he’d answer in sweet notes and song lyrics. Friday afternoons, I’d meet up with him at the conservatory where he studied and we’d duck into the rehearsal studio. While practicing assignments, he’d play on the grand piano and sing me Aerosmith songs as I stood there drooling over this awesome, long haired, rockstar. Ok, ok, musical theatre student. The only straight bloke in the entire department, actually, and just look who managed to bag him. Besides, he owned leather pants and performed in a rock band for a while before we met, so just let me have this one, ok?
 
 
So anyway, as time went on, my crush on Ben continued to grow. But at the same time, so did my hesitance. Part of me wanted nothing more than to romantically and dramatically collapse into his arms, but I was also terrified of attachment and equally terrified that I’d frighten him off. Every time I went to see him, I resolved to just get over myself and kiss him. But I always chickened out. So, for the first few weeks, we played push and pull as I wrestled with my conflicting feelings and he repeatedly assured me: “Don’t worry, I can be patient. You’re worth it.”
Dude, I can totally hear you dry heaving, can I offer you a little sick bag over there?   
 
About three weeks after we met, Ben had this major audition coming up and he was feeling a bit under the weather. Having recently completed a Reiki course, I offered to give him a treatment in hopes that it’d make him feel better. He also had to braid his hair for the occasion, but he didn’t know how. So, obviously, being the absolute girly-girl (…) that I am, I offered to help him out.
Well, I can assure you that out of all the talents I hold in my possession, styling hair isn’t one of them. Yet somehow, my wonky braiding skills turned out the be the very thing that ended up sealing the deal. Ben was sat on the leather sofa in front of me as I leaned over him and dragged my brush through his golden locks. Upon finishing my work of art, I placed my hands on top of his head for the Reiki session I’d promised, when he suddenly turned around to face me. Before I knew it, his lips met mine and every ounce of fear or resistance I had left in me, dissipated.
From that moment on, we were officially a couple and practically inseparable. When he left for Germany to audition, I waited outside his house early in the morning to see him off. We texted non-stop whenever we were apart, and we we’d meet up whenever we were free. Since we were both in our final year with our respective studies, we were both very busy but we’d always find ways to combine our obligations with our time spent together. For example, I’d run lines and sing duets with him, and we’d tag along to each other’s rehearsals and performances. While he was sat at the computer in his bedroom writing his thesis, I’d be perched on his bed, studying for my finals.
 
Given the fact that Ben was so much older than I was, a whole new world opened up to me. I’d always felt out of place amongst my peers, but hanging out with Ben unlocked the door to the adult world and although I was embarrassed to be such a rookie, I found myself feeling like I finally belonged. I was enthralled with all these new places and experiences, finding them so much more interesting and significant than the stuff that I was expected to care about at my age. Granted, Ben wasn’t as independent and mature as I’d initially expected him to be; he still lived at home, he didn’t know how to drive, cook or sew a button back onto his shirt, his mother gave him his vitamin tablets every day and sometimes he’d catch me off guard with naïve or childish ideas and behaviour. But he was still miles ahead of the people I normally surrounded myself with, and it was a relief.
Through Ben I met many interesting new people, most of them quite a bit older than I. They all welcomed me with open arms and treated me as an equal, our interactions and conversations a breath of fresh air compared to the teenage drama that I encountered on a daily basis.
Sometimes, Ben would cycle over to pick me up from school and my classmates would tease, squealing: Hey, your hairy old man is here! But I didn’t care what anybody thought. I felt special, like I belonged to an exclusive club and I knew something they didn’t. I just smiled, and ignored them.  

                 BONDING
 
When Ben and I met, I was surprised at how much we had a lot in common. Not only did we live in the same town; we’d gone to the same primary school, he had performed in a show with my best friend’s mother, we had many mutual interests and we shared quite a few life experiences. We bonded over music in particular, but we also shared the experience of being ‘different’ amongst our peers and we’d both been through some shit. We talked a lot about our experiences, and for the first time in my life, I really felt heard and understood. That was completely new to me.
I told him about some of the abuse and the bullying I’d endured throughout my childhood, and he told me about a painful break up with his previous girlfriend. He’d been so crazy about her that he’d given her a ring for their one-year anniversary, but she dumped him soon after. He was so devastated that he came home and grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer, contemplating suicide.
He also told me about a few other experiences and shared some secrets with me that will come into play later on, suffice to say they made a big impact on his life and I felt for him. I felt honoured that he’d entrusted me with those things, and I was certain that he needed me as much as I needed him.
 
A few months into our relationship, I began struggling more and more with depressive episodes. One evening, I’d joined Ben to his choir rehearsal and throughout the evening I found myself being increasingly plagued by flashbacks and particularly dark feelings. As we cycled home from the station, I grew more and more quiet until I eventually started crying. Ben pulled me over and asked me what was wrong. When I told him about the memories, he took my face into his hands and told me that nobody should ever have treated me like that and that I deserved better. It felt so good to finally be able to share my world with someone, and have someone care about me like that.
We both had our issues with ‘the world’, I guess, and in sharing our deepest secrets, fears and dreams, we turned to each other and clung on for dear life. He’d tell me that I had healed him and he couldn’t live without me. I felt that way too, as though he’d taken away the emptiness I’d always felt inside and made me whole. We soon fell into this “us against the world” kind of dynamic which, in retrospect, is kind of a red flag right there. We quickly became symbiotic to an unhealthy degree, but I was so infatuated that anyone who doubted us was automatically categorized as part of the world that we were rejecting. I truly believed that I’d found my soulmate, and I felt compelled to prove to everyone how real it was, even when the cracks began to appear.
 
                CLOUD NINE
 
The first six months of our relationship, I was on cloud nine. Utterly smitten with my knight in shining armour, we did everything together. We had fun, shared joy and sorrow and we looked out for each other. Ben was the one I ran to when things got rough at home, or when my mind got the better of me. He made me feel special, seen, safe and loved. He had given me a taste of the life that I wanted to have; a life that was my own, free from the invisible shackles that bound me to the guilt, the unspoken rules and the expectations that my family imposed on me. A life free from the past that clung to my bones and dragged me under from time to time. And free from the loneliness that I’d buried deep inside myself, where I could pretend that it didn’t exist. With Ben at my side, I didn’t have to deal with my social anxiety because I had found the only person that mattered. And I didn’t have to fear the future out in that big, scary world that I didn’t feel equipped or prepared for. We could face that world together.
Before Ben, all of that stuff was a quiet but constant hum in the back of my mind. Occasionally it would get a little too loud, and I’d shove it back down to a place where I could ignore it and get on with my life. I avoided intimacy and genuine connection, feeling most safe when I was alone and taking care of my own needs. That way, I didn’t have to rely on anyone or face any of my unresolved trauma. But now that I’d opened myself up to Ben, somehow the floodgates had opened and I couldn’t close them again, even if I wanted to. I couldn’t go back to the way I’d lived before.
 
On our six-month anniversary, Ben presented me with a ring. It was gold and white gold, with a little diamond set into the intricate design. I was so flattered by this gesture that the fact that the ring used to belong to his ex-girlfriend, didn’t bother me at all. It even fit me perfectly, almost like it was a sign or something. I guess you could say I now have a different interpretation of what that ‘sign’ was. But at the time, I really believed that we were made for each other.
Soon after that milestone, however, things began to change. Once we’d moved through the initial lovey-dovey phase and the butterflies began to die down, I started noticing little things that bothered me, or that didn’t seem quite right. But it all happened so slowly and subtly that it threw me off kilter, questioning the accuracy and validity of my own feelings and observations. After all, it just spiralled out of control with time. I should’ve taken my feelings and doubts seriously, but I was young, stubborn and in the proud possession of some nifty, pink tinted glasses that conveniently turned all those pesky red flags into…just flags.
 
The first time I had feelings of doubt surrounding our relationship, which was actually not long after the six-month mark, I was absolutely horrified. A jolt of guilt, shame and terror slammed through my chest and I shut those feelings down as fast as I could. After all, the unnamed gods had graced me with an unimaginable gift; someone who loved me for who I was, despite my inherent undesirability. And now my feelings for him were waning?! What the hell was wrong with me?!
Ben loved me, I loved him, we were perfect for each other and if I was stupid enough to ruin it, it would be my own fault if I was alone forever. This was a one-time offer, take it or leave it.
I was terrified of my own feelings, or the lack thereof, and I did everything I could to hide them from myself, Ben and the rest of the world. Whenever I found myself feeling hurt, bothered or annoyed by something he’d said or done, I shoved it down. Every time I noticed that I didn’t feel as much for him as he apparently did for me, I turned to rationalization in hopes that my brain could eventually convince my heart. I held on for dear life, and it would eventually cost me dearly.
In retrospect, this response makes a lot of sense. I was raised in a household where feelings were a no-go and conflict or uncomfortable topics were avoided at all costs. My narcissistic father had no tolerance for thoughts, needs, feelings or opinions that challenged his own, conditioning me to question myself at every turn and do everything within my power to maintain the status quo. He also taught me that thoughts or feelings were only valid if you could back them up with proof; rock solid rational reasoning and iron clad arguments. With all this guilt, shame, self-loathing and -doubt constantly snapping at my heels, I was easily thrown off course and my incessant fear of losing love drove me to do things that I didn’t really stand for at all. In my relationship with Ben, it’s obvious to me now that I was falling into and recreating patterns that I was familiar with.
 
                EXPECTATIONS
 
One of the first things that attracted me to Ben, was the fact that he was older than me. That may sound strange, but as I said before, I didn’t really mesh well with my peers. We were on a different wave length, had different life experiences, values and interests. Thus, with Ben being six years older than myself, I had certain expectations regarding his level of maturity, his lifestyle, his behaviour, etc... You see, in my sixteen-year-old mind, twenty-three meant that you had it together and you knew what the hell you were doing. Yeah, I know, I now look back at that assumption and laugh my ass off, but you have to understand my frame of reference. My mum was twenty-three when she had me, and she had four kids before she turned thirty. So, in my mind, anyone above the age of twenty was a full-fledged adult with a house, a car, a job…and who generally had their shit together. Hence my surprise when I learned that Ben had none of those things.
Granted, he was a musical theatre major in line for graduation, but he didn’t have a clue what he actually wanted to do with his life. He didn’t know how he was going to make a living and he’d basically given up on theatre already when he was turned down for that big audition. He was still living with his parents and didn’t have a driver’s license, nor the intention to get one. He didn’t know how to cook or do laundry, and his mum still laid out his vitamins and reminded him to take them every day. Now, of course, these are superficial things that I quickly brushed aside as I got to know him better. But as time went on, I began to see other indications that Ben was by far not as mature as I thought. In fact, I gradually discovered many more ways in which he wasn’t at all the person I thought he was at the beginning of our relationship....

To be continued.