I often find myself revisiting memories from my previous relationships. By doing so, I am able to get a new perspective on things that happened to me in the past, learn from them and grow for them. Today, I reminisced about a relationship I had while studying in college. I dated this guy for several years. I loved him, and everything progressed beautifully. We lived together and I loved his family.
Our relationship was not without its difficulties, however. Towards the end of our relationship, we started growing apart from one another. We fought all the time and couldn’t seem to agree on anything. While I wanted to work on our relationship in a desperate attempt to salvage it, he seemed to have given up completely.
He slowly pushed me further and further away from him. He started spending many nights away from home with friends. Despite it all, I stayed with him. I guess deep inside I thought there was still hope. However, I was wrong. After a few months of putting up with this behavior, he just left. I came back home only to find it half empty, with all of his things gone. I was shocked, heartbroken, and confused. I couldn’t think straight. My mind was all over the place and, among the things I thought of, was his mother.
I can’t explain it, and now looking back, I feel stupid for feeling this way. As I mentioned, I loved his family a lot. So, when everything went down, I felt the urge to explain to her what had happened, to show her it wasn’t my fault. I knew her manipulative son would find a way to spin the story to make himself look good. That is why I sat down and, in a letter, described my side of the story. I mailed her the letter the next morning, and in the few following days, waited patiently for her response. However, unsurprisingly, I never received it. His mother probably never read my letter, and even if she did, she didn’t feel the need to respond. Now, looking back, I understand it doesn’t even matter.
See, I should have never expected her to respond to me or even care what she thought in the first place. What I was actually doing was searching for her validation, her approval. I wanted and needed her to tell me I was right, that I was wronged by her son and didn’t deserve this. However, I shouldn’t have looked for that in her. Instead, I needed to hear and receive that from myself. I should have known I deserve better and that things aren’t going to change. I should have sought love and validation from myself and not from others. I expected his mother to clear up everything for me, but the fact was, that I already saw things clearly myself.
Looking back on this experience taught me a valuable lesson. It taught me that I don’t need others to validate me and tell me that I am right. Instead, I need to be able to do that myself. It taught me that at the end of the day, you don’t need others to know your side of the story. You know the truth, and that is all you need.