Un (Be) Longing Part 2

anthrometronom
1 hour ago
11 min read

A fragmented mirror reflecting an upside-down image of a person.

Art by Susan Wilkinson, CC BY-NC 2.0 DEED

Trigger warning: Both physical and emotional violence are discussed in the following text; neglect, bullying, depression and alcohol addiction are explicitly and implicitly mentioned.

Un Be

Longing

Text by Luisa Brühne (Freie Universität Berlin)

Part II: Healing

Nothing about you seemed familiar to me when our paths crossed for the first time. Your life seemed so different from mine. You carried a calmness within you that I didn't know. And you seemed to go through life with an ease, as if life was following you rather than you following life. Nothing about you seemed heavy or dark. Nothing about you seemed familiar. I couldn't recognize any part of myself in you. And you had so much energy. You never seemed to get tired. I envied your lightness and your energy. I seemed to have lost them over the years.

Being with you was easy. I didn't have to question anything; you didn't play games with me that I hadn't consented to. Being with you was like a break for me. A break from the place I called home back then. A break from expectations. A break from places where I had to pretend. A break from my own thoughts, which were often far too loud. I could just be with you. And that was enough.

When I was with you, something inside me came to rest that I didn't even know had been in turmoil before. Sometimes I disappeared from home for days because it was easier to live with you. You were my refuge. And so much more. It was spring in the first year of the pandemic. Everything was closed, the streets were deserted. The world had stopped. At least for a while. We had just finished our written A-level exams and were enjoying the peace and quiet we were inevitably exposed to. We spent a lot of time in the orchards, near our birch tree. On so many afternoons, we would ride our bikes up the hill to it and look into the distance together. We even spent the night there. It was our place. We just lay there, looked up at the blue, cloudless sky and smoked a few cigarettes. There were no contrails to be seen. It was peaceful. We read to each other. We hold each other in our arms.

When I was with you, I always got so tired. You always complained that I only ever wanted to sleep when I was with you. I didn't understand it myself. But as soon as my head was in your pillow, I was overcome by a sense of calm that I'd never known before. I felt safe. My nervous system could come to rest. After all those years of inner turmoil and stress. The more time we spent together and the more you got to know me, the more I prepared myself for the fact that you would leave me, like so many people in my life before you did. I reckoned that I was too messed up for you. That it was only a matter of time before you realized that. Until you would recognize my invisible wounds while your body seemed so unharmed. Until you would reject me because I was too much for you. Or maybe too little of what you wanted. I tested you. Showed you my ugliest sides to repel you. Because if you had left then, it would have been a confirmation. It would have given me the illusion of control. But it was attempted self-sabotage and pain that I caused us both. It wasn't fair. I gave you so many reasons to leave, but you stayed.

One day we were sitting in the orchards discussing whether it was ethical to kill a chicken just to know what it felt like to kill a living being. I called you a specialist for putting your own experience above the life of the chicken and was so angry about it that I grabbed my bike and rode away. You rode after me, but I didn't care at that moment. And in that moment, I realized that you weren't just going to leave. Not because you rode after me, but because I got up and knew it wouldn't be the end and we would find each other again. I had learned to trust that you would stay. After 17 years, I felt safe for the first time in my entire life. It took 17 years. It took me 17 years to find someone, who cares about me and loves me for who I am. It took me 17 years to find someone who listens to me and wants to know what it looks like inside my head. It took me 17 years to give someone access to my inner landscape. For 17 years I convinced myself that I didn't need any of this. I denied my needs. I would have survived the last two years in my hometown on my own without you. I would have managed somehow. But I didn't want to. Loving you is a gift. Being loved by you healed something inside me. You were my spring after years of winter.

***

I have been left so many times in my life by people in the most diverse forms. So often that I have often asked myself why I was the person who was worth leaving? What was it about me that made people leave me? I had thought I was done with the subject. Closed because at some point I got used to being left by people I cared about. Closed because at some point I decided that I didn't need anyone to look after me. Closed off because I managed everything on my own and was independent of everyone and everything. I was Miss Super Independent. I didn't need any support and certainly not from cis men who thought they could explain the world to me. I sold this attitude to others and especially to myself as feminism, although I was hiding much more from my wounds. My parents told me that I had always "led the way with waving flags" and often simply disappeared when they took their eyes off me. As soon as I could walk, there was no stopping me. I wanted to explore the world. At least that's what they wanted to believe. Maybe I was also looking for the love they couldn't give me.

I was one of those children who never felt homesick at sleepover parties. The pain of separation from my parents was unknown to me. Why should I long for a place and people who were strangers to me? I was one of those children who felt bad when one of their cuddly toys fell out of bed because they knew what it felt like to be forgotten and left out. I was one of those children who threw uncontrollable tantrums. I was one of those children who were particularly mature for their age. I was one of those children who learned that it was safer to be on their own, because if you were alone, you couldn't be abandoned. I was one of those children who didn't get what they needed from their caregivers and learned to get by and survive by demanding little to nothing from others. I was one of those children whose needs were rejected because they were too much or wrong in the eyes of their caregivers. As a result, I closed myself off and suppressed my attachment needs. I was one of those children whose childhood ended far too early, from one night to the next morning.

I was one of those teenagers who carried a deep sadness inside and hid it. I was one of those teenagers who rebelled against everything and everyone who tried to suppress them. I was one of those teenagers who longed for more than life could give them. I was one of those teenagers whose feelings always seemed to be too much or too little, but never right. I was one of those teenagers who could no longer stand it at home. I was one of the lucky teenagers who finally got the love they had needed all those years before. I was one of those teenagers who cared about everything and everyone but themselves. I was one of those teenagers whose closest friend was dragged into deep darkness by a severe depression. I was one of those teenagers who felt unfairly treated and was angry with the whole world. I'm one of those adults who can't remember their childhood very clearly and dismiss their childhood as ‘quite okay’.

I am one of those adults who believe that they did not experience any trauma, but still had the feeling that something ‘didn't go quite right’ back then. I'm one of those adults who long for attachment and fear it at the same time. I am one of those adults who are in the process of recognizing their trauma as such.

I am one of those humans who don't know how to accept love, but at the same time love with an intensity as if the peace of the world depended on it.

***

When Leon asked me if we wanted to open our relationship, I reacted defensively; the thought that what I could give him would apparently not be enough made me very angry, as I had put so much effort into our relationship. And this was supposed to be the acknowledgement I received? I felt attacked, hurt. I had the feeling that all my efforts for our relationship were not seen or appreciated. He said he would like to gain new experiences, but also didn't want to end our relationship. I could understand it so well. And at the same time, I was incredibly jealous of him at that moment. Because a year earlier, I had suppressed my feelings for a person and suffered greatly as a result. Even though I had never interacted with this person on a romantic or sexual level, my heart was broken. Partly because I couldn't live out my feelings and my love. I dealt with everything myself because I was afraid that he would find out and become afraid for our relationship. In my eyes, it was none of his business because my feelings for this other person didn't change my feelings for him. At the same time, it seemed to kill me inside not being able to share this with him. And now, six months later, he suggested to open our relationship?! It felt like a bad joke. Like the timing was great for him again, while for me it felt like a slap in the face. I told him I would have to think about it.

In the end, I decided to give it a try, because the last thing I wanted to do was restrict him. He soon had his first new experiences, while I had not. Friends asked me if it didn't bother me if it was so ‘unbalanced’. I replied that I didn't need it, that my sex life with Leon was fulfilling enough for me. Because that was what we were primarily interested in back then: having new sexual experiences and no longer having to restrict ourselves. We had rules that were impossible to implement in reality and were intended to ensure that our relationship remained our top priority. They also served to prevent us from becoming emotionally attached to someone else.

Looking back, I'm very ashamed of the motivation behind the rules, which primarily came from me. But at the same time, I know that behind it all were fears that can come with opening up the relationship. I was afraid that Leon would find someone better and forget about me. And I was even more afraid of inevitably having to face my fear that no one would want me; that no one would love me. That I would have to expose myself to the risk of abandonment again. But that had nothing to do with my relationship with Leon, it had to do with my relationship with myself and my insecurities, which could only be hiding under the guise of the monogamy.

After a year, I decided to give it a try with the help of online dating and realized that I liked it. I enjoyed being able to have non-committal sex with different people, but I quickly realized that while sex was nice and fun, I was craving something else: real intimacy. I longed for a person with whom I could form a bond. And I didn't want to give up my bond and relationship with Leon. I was so tired of dating and people who didn't want to make a commitment and whose already poor communication culminated in ghosting. It was like walking on broken glass; inevitably I was going to get cut. I decided to put online dating on hold for the time being and focus on people I'd already crossed paths with in real life.

Last summer, the time had come; the boundaries between open relationships and polyamory seemed to become increasingly blurred. Both for Leon and for me. I realized that I was developing feelings for another person and was very happy about it. I could hardly believe my happiness. And the best thing about the whole thing was that I didn't have to hide it and could share it with everyone, especially with Leon.

I jump towards you, take you by both hands and stand in front of you. ‘Come on,’ I say, ‘let's spin.’ We lean backwards and start to spin. Everything around us blurs, the colorful lights in the background become stars that flash again and again, the people around us are nothing more than bright colors, only your beautiful face, which never gets boring to look at even after almost 5 years, is sharp. We lean even more into our spin, letting ourselves fall, knowing that the other won't let go. We laugh and shriek. In that moment, I realize how lucky I am to be allowed to love whoever and however many I want, which only makes my love for you stronger because we allow each other to. Tears well up in my eyes with joy and gratitude. I feel nothing but pure joy and love at this moment. Everything feels light.

- Fusion 2023

The path from monogamy to opening up the relationship to polyamory is not an easy one. It exposes wounds that might have remained undiscovered and never had a chance to heal. It is not uncommon for unpleasant emotions such as jealousy or fear of loss to be evoked. And that's okay. They have a right to exist because they show where wounds need to be healed and inner work needs to be done. I have learned to appreciate the importance of good communication and dared to step out of my comfort zone. I can recognize my own behavior patterns more easily when I am in several relationships at the same time. And the most beautiful, but also the most frightening thing: my relationship partners choose me because they want me in their lives as I am and not because they need me or because I give them any advantage or value. I haven't regretted opening my heart to more relationships for a second. Loving another person doesn't take anything away from my love for other people. Every love is unique and special in its own right. There is no love that is more or less important than another. My time and resources may be limited, but my love is not. And even if my love is infinite, my capacity for secure attachments is not. Building and maintaining secure attachments takes work. And I am willing to do that work.

You're cozying up to me. Just like you always do. Your long arms and legs wrap around my body, which is so much smaller than yours. You love to curl up with me. And I love being able to hold you and be a safe space for you. Your head lies in the hollow between my shoulder and head, my face is in your hair, you smell so familiar and safe. You tell me that you haven't been feeling well in the last few days. ‘The most important thing is that we have each other,’ you say. We hug each other even tighter. ‘Yes,’ I whisper, ‘that's it.’ The most important thing is that I have you and we all have each other, I think.

- January 2024

The essay continues in part 3, coming soon.

< Read Part 1

Annotations

The characteristics and feelings described in this text could indicate a possible mental disorder. If you identify with this and suffer, please seek professional help. If you or someone you know is in emotional distress, here are some free and confidential support services:

Berlin Crisis Service

24/7 by phone: +49 30 390 63-00

www.berliner-krisendienst.de

Telefonseelsorge

Germany-wide, 24/7 crisis line: +49 800 111 0 111 / +49 800 111 0 222 / 116 123 www.telefonseelsorge.de

Muslim Counseling Line

MuTeS, 24/7: +49 30 443 509 821

www.mutes.de

Doweria Helpline

Russian-speaking, 24/7: +49 30 440 308 454

www.doweria-chat.de

Depression Info Line