Death sucks. Each time deep grief has taken up space in my body, my coping mechanism of choice was romantic codependnce. It was always with somebody I ain't have no business sharing myself with. Temporary comfort promises to feel better than the heartache of loss and lonely. It never does though, does it?
I have learned, I am learning.
Although I had "broken up" with the person I wrote about dating in 2022, I danced a gray area dance for almost a year. The kind of dance that allows blurs the lines until you get sick of it. I spent time with welcomed familiarity as I navigated the heartache of grief. I still sought partnership in my sadness. I toyed with the idea that I might be sad for a while, and I decided my love life didn’t have to be put on hold.
When grief becomes puppeteer, those dangling strings are attached to whatever representative is available that day. In my experience, grief me is not NOT me, it is just bits of my personality that resembles my faintest version before the loss took hold. Even when feeling my worst though, I am goal-oriented and regularly accomplish goals I set for myself.
I do sad well, I am an expert masker. So, folks find themselves drawn to even my saddest me. And saddest me kept dating.
Discernment is a practice, though. And just because you can (date), does not always mean you should.
Because I knew what I had to give at the time wasn’t near what I could give romantically to another person, I settled for casual. I thought that a little of something would be better than the gaping hole of nothing I felt. I hoped that if I were upfront while dating, the other person would make an informed decision that worked for them. I thought things would go smoothly (enough) if I said things like, "Hey, I don't have the emotional capacity for you right now because I'm really sad. But I'd still love to hang out and enjoy your company whenever I feel up for it, though.” What actually happened was, I did what I've complained plenty about over the years. I told someone I didn't want to be in a relationship with them, but showed up like I did. And the longer I spent time with that person when I was sad, the more I (and I'm sure the other person) felt like us together meant something it didn't mean at all.
Sometimes we think that we are experiencing physical attraction, when really we are trauma-bonding. This gem came from my therapist after I commented that I kept dating folks I didn't actually like but felt really pulled to. Turns out, we are not taught all the ways the body can connect to a thing. When our bodies are activated in particular ways, we can read it as attraction. I am drawn to you. There is something about you that makes me...FEEL. Especially in the context of dating and romance, body activation feels a lot like attraction. And with even just a sprinkle of affection, boom. We're hooked. But what we're really hooked to is the stuff in our lives that have a hook on us. (If you're new here, we do a lot of healing work in these parts.)
I always thought that bonding with someone's trauma was clear cut--simply connecting with someone who has a similar experience as you. As it turns out, our bodies have memories and responses of their own. Without discrenment, that may look like physical/romantic attraction.
Although I knew there was no future with the person I situationshipped with, I kept trying. My friends encouraged me to let it go, knowing I wasn't with someone I liked. But I knew that not wanting to be alone outweighed compatitbility or even interest. So, I kept dating them and continued going to therapy as things went awry. I even saught couples therapy because I wanted the both of us to benefit from tools where we fell short. I didn't see myself with them long-term, but I thought the information gained would benefit us both regardless of the outcome. I figured, hey if I’m going to do the thing, I might as well have a professional’s support as I navigated this part of my life. It didn’t take a therapist to tell me though that I would force a thing until I got tired of forcing a thing that I knew wasn't for me.
When I chose to finally stop engaging in toxic back-and-forth romance. I decided I was going to get real comfortable with particular parts of myself. Then, no matter who I shared my space with, I could set boundaries that were best for me. Boundaries that did not include me being flexible with other folks’ complete disregard for my mental and emotional needs. I began to get genuinely curious about my past patterns and experiences. I recognized that physical touch was a big part of the aching lonely that sent me on a first-class flight back to toxic romance.
It felt embarrassing to admit, but when single-single, I just wanted to be held. To have my head rubbed and my hair brushed, get daily hugs and forehead kisses. I just wanted to feel another person. Because of that, I extended folks access in my life. I accepted a lot of painful behavior because I didn't want to feel the ache of feeling touch-starved.
Never mind the serene peace I feel home alone in my own energy.
This spring, as I bounced back from another situationship gone way past its expiration date, I journaled about what I wanted and how I wanted to show up as a partner in the future. It became clear that safe physical touch had to be prioritized in my life regardless of my relationship status. The only way I had genuinely considered touch though, aside from greetings and goodbye hugs from loved ones, was through romantic connection.
My dear friend, Amon Elise runs LA Cuddle Club and that gets its own blog. But for now, its important to note that LA Cuddle Club is where I learned a different way to navigate safe touch with other folks. By going to different cuddles, I have witnessed safe consent demonstrated even if I do not participate. Folks cuddle and speak softly, engaging quietly while navigating one another’s bodies and personal space. It is truly a magical experience to see the practice of safe physical boundaries in a social setting.
Instead of leaning into toxic romance that was familiar, I leaned into my community instead. I don't love large social outings so, I make sure when I do pop out it's to places and with people that feel good to my nervous system. (Cause the system do be nervous, okay.)
On the days I had it to give, I went outside. When I wasn’t at cuddle events, I was sure enough found at a Cuties LA gathering.
Shout out to LA Cuddle Club and Cuties LA and for creating safe community spaces that feel good to the socially resistant.
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