The Love that was Budding and Then Wasn’t
A Lesson in Being Authentic with the Wrong Person
For Cassandra, the one person who claps for me the loudest, holds me when I fall, and always answers the phone.
Hermit
I am a hermit. Loosely… I live in a metropolitan area, but the suburbs. It wasn’t until I started perusing my degree in Asian studies that I started to leave my safe space. I went through a very difficult divorce while recovering from a debilitating illness. After relearning how to walk and gaining my strength, I started attending classes in person. Before that my world was my apartment, everything was online. Video chats with my small circle of friends and family, grocery ordering, medical appointments unless I needed scans or blood work, therapy— everything I did was in my space. Low white blood cell count and limited mobility does not bode well for much in the way of outside world activity. Besides, I love my books. What can I not have when in a good book? My little library, my soft blankets, my safest place.
The last three years, I went on a few dates, got romance scammed once. Thankfully, I was able to navigate that without much loss—so I retreated again back into my hermitage. I deleted most of my social media and stayed in my private shell. It’s safer that way. A year went by, I added two social media sites back, and held everyone at arms length—until him. I will think fondly of him, even with the pain, a life lesson I needed. Although painful, I’m positive the Universe knows what I need and how to keep me from being distracted from my purpose in this life rotation. Protecting me now from another devastation that was my last marriage, which left me broken for quite some time.
Meeting Him
I wasn’t t in love—but I was getting there. To be fair, I’m deeply emotional and rather passionate. You won’t know that until I open up. We met online, like most modern couples. I felt immediately comfortable with him, because he was open and honest. That was refreshing and led me to be the same. I didn’t hold back, I presented my whole self. I trusted him because he trusted me with sensitive and vulnerable information. I did not feel like I had to hide my authentic self and that was amazing to me. Not having to pretend to be less intelligent, stronger than I am, serious all the time, weak or pathetic, useless, less loving. Not having to change myself to fit a mold or perception—I opened up expansively. For the first time in years, I was honest, vulnerable, and open. He made me want to talk, want to share. It started as a basic friendship. Just a nice connection, single parents, lost careers, many similarities. Both had been betrayed by past lovers, hurt in the most unfair outrageous ways. Many similar traumas. It was nice. The kind of nice you get from warm tea, fuzzy blankets, and a good cry. Comfortable—safe.
One day at work I received a very large gift. A $500 gift for working hard, graduating, and always being available. I knew my friend was struggling financially as well as I, so I sent him a gift. A large delivery of groceries, I split the money in half, bought groceries for my home, then used the rest for him. At the time I thought, if perhaps he wasn’t struggling with bills, food insecurity, and stress maybe it would ease his burden a bit too. The gift eased mine. I wanted to share that moment of release and freedom. It’s a rare thing to meet a person who truly does not expect a return. We all have ulterior motives. I can honestly say that on that day, I had none. I remembered deeply how hard it is to do everything alone and with no real help in sight. It’s painful.
I have a deep fear of going hungry. As a child we had resources however my mother hated to cook. I took over cooking and grocery shopping at a very young age. Now, I teach anyone willing to learn cooking skills, food shopping skills, and how to stretch a meal so no one goes hungry. Anyone who needs a meal is welcome at my home. At work I will take peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to give the homeless who would come into the shop, for a single cigarette or bottle of water. I just chose random quality grocery items, asked the shopper to make sure there was fruit, grains, bread, vegetables, meat, and a variety of snacks for a teenager. On a whim I also sent a dozen roses. Who doesn’t love to receive beauty in their day?
After that the playful banter and conversations became longer, deeper, more open, and I realized I really liked him. He surprised me by admitting he liked me too. We talked about future plans, me coming to visit him, what a life together would look like. A multiverse, where we coexisted together peacefully. At one point he said, “You are my dream.” I thought this was worth pursuing. He was worth pursuing. This type of openness and vulnerability was rare, and I felt seen and accepted.
Trauma
But trauma rears its ugly head and although we think we’ve moved on, we haven’t. I still hold quite a few trauma responses in my body and in my actions. Like I will flinch if you walk to close, I will keep doors open, so as not to be trapped inside. I do my best to be mindful, sometimes even my best efforts fail. The same for him. Whatever triggered him it was significant to illicit such a visceral, violent, and final response. Knowing my trauma brain is wired like others I understand the knee jerk reaction to flee immediately when faced with the difficulty of confronting your demons. It’s easier to run. However, wherever you go there you still are. A new place, a new city, new everything does not change the person inside. Once your brain is wired for trauma responses its effort—Herculean effort to pause the process and return to sanity.
I have been fortunate enough to have a good therapist whom I have worked with for six years. I recognize trauma and I also recognize its response. So when the first few signs of transference and trauma started, I didn’t say rude or cruel things to him, I tried my best to be gentle and understanding. I gave space, stayed quiet, didn’t over message or leave his messages unanswered. I gently made comments like no pressure, if this is too much, ect… I wish we were still speaking so I could give you his perspective. A story is better told from both sides. Before I left for Asia, I have a little tradition I do for my children, and so I included him as well so he’d have a little care note for every few days while I was gone. At home, I hide them for the children so they find them through out the time I’m gone.
I should for clarity tell you the children at home are 24, 22, and 13. Anyway it becomes a scavenger hunt and they usually find them all in a few days. Little A found his on the 22nd can from the left in the Diet Coke case. My children took lunch to school everyday. I always put little notes in their lunches. Little care messages or encouragement, during tests little reminders that I am proud of them and they are loved. My 24 year old once called me sobbing from the high school office, I had inadvertently left her note on the kitchen counter. She was certain I’d forgotten her. My adult children still have many of these notes to this day. It’s a big deal in our home. Once my 22 year old made lunch for me and I cried when I saw the note he’d put in there. For him, Him, I wrote out a week’s worth of lunch notes and a month’s worth of care messages. I mailed them off the day I left.
The Abrupt End
Fast forward to a couple weeks later, I’m in an intensive language program. Classes every day, writing essays, language assessments, while also doing independent research on Confucianism in regard to ethical governance. I set alarms to be mindful of 15 hour time difference and waited patiently for messages. Everything seemed to be going well, we messaged everyday. We had banter online on our shared social media. I thought we were making progress towards a relationship. The intimate comments, the plans for future activities, the discussion of likes and dislikes.
Then one morning while I was in lecture out of no where I get a message saying, he’s decided to close his personal life to a 15 mile radius, he has traumatized himself, he needs to focus on his son, and I should understand. Then he blocked me everywhere. Phone, social media, international app, even here on Stack. Just one minute a daily part of my life and then gone like a death. So sudden, so violent, so—traumatizing.
After the initial shock, I cried of course. I finished my day of classes and work. Then back to the guesthouse dorm. It was then I broke down. What had I done wrong? What was wrong with me? Was I so horrible? Did I hurt him? What could I have said? Why did this happen? All my traumas triggered; abandonment, safety, worthiness. In that one line… “I’m cutting my personal life to a 15 mile radius, if you lived in town I’d consider it.”
Abandonment, old friend, I know you so well, discarded, thrown away like a leftover piece of wrapper. I reached out to a mutual of ours because I was so shocked. He as well was shocked, but it is what it is, I was totally blocked. I did not fight, beg, or request anything. I just had responded before the blocks, “Ok, take care of your son, I’m sorry to have missed you.” And that was it. The love I thought was growing was severed with no recourse.
Trauma Response
I was very depressed the rest of the day. I went to temple and prayed asking Guanyin to help me. I read my prayer mantras over and over. I kept my beaded in my hands as much as I could. I reached out to the people who know me best. Considered leaving Taiwan to retreat to my safe place with all my books and comforts, but I’m two weeks away from finishing my program and starting my thesis. I was stuck for hours in a trauma response of my own. My worst fear abandonment, my idea of worthiness, my safety all triggered with one sentence and immediate silence. My thoughts, “I’m not worth a conversation. I’m not worth a few minutes. I’m not worth a try. I’m useless, worthless.” I struggled. I’m still struggling. My negative ran rampant for two days before I could finally utilize tools to stop it.
I threw myself into my work, I wrote six Analects poems that night. Then after three hours of sleep resumed my arduous school schedule. I kept going even though I did not want to. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry. Cry I did, still am, any moment I feel the need, I excuse myself and cry in the bathroom, the dorm room, anywhere private. I think the grief is more about what could have been, not what was. That I was so utterly wrong and had allowed myself to trust, be vulnerable, be open, be honest. It felt like a violation of my self protection. How could I have miss-judged so greatly? Why did I give myself hope? Why did I believe? Why did I want to? These felt like personal betrayals. Time to retreat, lick wounds. To be honest I may not come out of my hermitage this time, for a very long time. I can’t say if there will be an if ever. I don’t know what the future holds. I just know right now I’m too fragile to try this experiment again. I’m running out of glue.
What did I learn? I learned I’m not ready either. Rejection should not send me into depression. I should not spiral into a negative head space that questions my value and worthiness. I learned I’m not solid enough in my own healing that this minor setback would strangle me for days. I learned or rather relearned my circle was sound, supportive, and with me no matter how many miles and hours separated us. My dearest friend Cass, answered all my messages and calls. Even 2am her time, “Don’t leave me alone here. Take care of the person I love most.” She reminded me of truths that in my trauma response I had forgotten.
As she has had to recall for me a few times I’ve been triggered into a stagnating trauma response, my home is a safe haven for children. I’m constantly worried over finances because I feed everyone and offer a spare bed anytime one of the children has a friend in trouble. Through this process I’ve “adopted five boys and two girls” (They come to holidays and family dinner weekly.) She reminded me that no matter what I have people around the world who love me, value me, honor their word and our relationships. Logically I know I’m not worthless or terrible. I’m a very loving and kind woman. In a trauma head space, I don’t feel worthy enough to live.
In the third night of no contact, I took my roommate to visit my Taiwanese Mama. The first summer session I came to Taiwan she is the kindest most supportive and loving person I had ever met. She welcomed me into her family and taught me many things about cooking Taiwanese food. When I struggled with language she welcomed me anyway, fed me, hugged me, encouraged me. The second summer session was the same. Every spare moment I had I was at her restaurant. Going that night was like going home. She fed us, hugged me many times, kissed both my cheeks and cried with me. She looked at my graduation pictures and said how proud she was of me, her special American daughter.
My dear friend in Beijing, Miaomiao, offered to send a plane ticket for me to come to Beijing early and rest with her. She also said the same as Mama and Cass. She said I was “worth everything” and especially to her I was a “treasure.” She cried with me and told me she would find a Beijing husband for me, because “American men don’t treasure their wives.”
Then my classmate who has kept in contact with me throughout the trip also offered words of encouragement and comfort. She reminded me how easy and gentle it is to become my friend and how grateful she was to have me in her life.
The Wake-up Call.
I kept going, working hard, not resting much, until it came to a head and I ended up in clinic with low blood sugar. Pushing myself to work non stop so I would not have to think about how hurt I was… I had forgotten one of the most important rules of cultivation, you must care for your health first. I was not eating, barely sleeping, living on caffeine and willpower.
I failed an exam and spent the morning crying. My professor, whom I respect and cherish deeply, was very strong in her comments about my utilization of time. She was not cruel or mean, she was kind, but I felt such disappointment in myself for disappointing her. I had woken up at 4am to practice, and yet in my overwhelmed state, I went blank, no Chinese or English came to mind. I went numb. I think I only answered five of the questions. The pressure I put on myself is immense. To be the best at everything because being intelligent is my only attribute that I can accept without reservation. I have to prove to myself that I am the best scholar, the best writer, the best at research. Like Miaomiao, says “You are already great, it is enough.” My logical brain says yes, “I’ve done enough”, my trauma brain says “no you need to do more to be worthy.”
It wasn’t the rejection that created this huge reaction, it was the fact that I have so many other pressures right now the rejection was the catalyst that broke my ability to keep utilizing my tools, compartmentalize take one stressor at a time. I was worried about my family in the states, financial concerns with school and next semester , research pressure, pressure to perform well in examinations, lack of sleep— the rejection was the last straw on an already overwhelming and stressful time. My careful balancing crumbled and I was unable to process, work, or care for myself for a time.
I try to create this balance within myself. I know I’m a traumatized person. How I became that way is a story for another time. With therapy, I’ve managed to overcome quite a few obstacles and mental collapses. One of my saving graces is that I did not become bitter, vengeful, or an abuser. I have kept a great deal of my youthful hopeful idealism. Sometimes, I can be very childlike because I still see wonder in the world. I’ve cultivated a home that does not include corporal punishment, disregard, or fear. It took many years to get there, but it’s there now—a safe place for anyone in need. Follow the golden rule always do unto others as you would have done unto you.
Years of patience hoping that someday someone would love me the same way I love.
However that’s not what has happened. My last few attempts at dating ended the same, untruthful presentations, abandonment, re-traumatized. While I don’t think he meant to hurt me this badly, I don’t think he meant for any of this. That is my hope anyway. I think in protecting his own trauma and self, he triggered mine which put me back into hermitage. I can’t protect myself well at the moment, so I’ll retreat. No access is easier than being on guard. I’ve deleted most of his pictures. I’ve only kept one. All the sweet messages I deleted as well only keeping the one saying I was his dream. I’ll cherish that even for one moment I was someone’s dream. I put them away in my hidden file, password protected for when I won’t cry. I’m barely holding onto myself right now. I’ve deleted most of my social media as well, deactivating accounts reducing access to me. Protection.
I think whatever happened, whatever changed, it wasn’t meant to be. There is no going back now, what’s done is done. I hope he holds no ill will. He said he only writes when things are very bad, I hope that he’s expressing himself and working through it. Hopefully one day he will walk out of his tunnel of trauma and see more hopeful light. I only wish his journey would be smoother and his past not suffocate his future. Everyone deserves grace.
That’s all I have left in me right now.
So, what’s next? A little black and white thinking for a bit. I can add nuance and more colors a little by little when I get more comfortable with this healing cycle. No more dating definitely for a while, maybe until I finish the PhD. Cultivating my interests, perfecting my craft, more dedicated study of mandarin, calligraphy, and Guqin. I will buy my own little house in the mountains somewhere like I’ve always planned, build up my library, practice my crafts and meditations. Heal myself again. If I’m not ready to open up again, I won’t. The risk has become too great. We are creatures that crave connection and community. It’s unfortunate the world has too much hate, pain, and despair to offer good choices for everyone.
I don’t like how it feels to pay for someone else’ s cruelty and mistake. I did not destroy his life, devastate his dreams, and traumatize him, but since she is no longer available to him, I and others will pay the price. Therefore, I won’t let anyone suffer at my hands because of a cruelty someone else did to me. I wish to enhance a life with love and peace. Thank you, sir, for the lesson.
Damn! This is sad.