By J. Brooks. First published on Medium.
I’ve always dreaded Valentine’s Day, but not for the reason you might think. While my Facebook status has been stuck on the “single” button for the better part of 28 years, the stories that I used to tell myself provided evidence to the contrary. Like many disabled people, I have an elaborate fantasy world. These fantasies kept me company when my 5th-grade “friends” decided that they were too cool to be friends with the disabled kid who just wanted someone to swing with. During these years of social isolation, I would often use my fantasies as a security blanket, wrapping myself inside whenever I felt unwanted, unsafe, or unloved.
My fantasies, however, took on a different tone when my peers began to see boys as more than just the rival team during our games of capture the flag. For I, too, wanted someone to look at me how the boy-girl pairs in Middle school looked at each other. However, no one ever did. Not for years. To fulfill this need for human connection, I again turned to my fantasies. Yet, rather than just making up characters, I decided to base them on real people in my life. From the cute 7th-grade history teacher who always talked to me at recess to the guy in the local band who talked his bandmates into having a concert at an accessible venue for me, I used to fantasize all day about these men. I lived in my head so much that I started to believe that my daydreams would, one day, become reality. These “one-way-relationships” would go on for months or even years until I would eventually find out my fantasy boyfriends were “seeing” someone else, and then I would go through all the symptoms of a high school break up with someone I barely knew. But now, having gone through two real-life breakups, I can tell you that the pain I felt back then was no less real.
While my fantasies took a backseat during my first relationship, I would be lying if I didn’t admit they sometimes kept me warm during those long, lonely nights that those of us in long-distance relationships know all too well. These fantasies kept the relationship alive for me, as I daydreamed about life with my beloved once we lived together, and strengthened my commitment to him and what we were building, or so I thought. In reality, my fantasies were a blanket that I wrapped around myself tighter and tighter until my boyfriend could only see a figure outlined in fuzzy material.
But now, having gone through two real-life breakups, I can tell you that the pain I felt back then was no less real.
After my first real-life breakup, this blanket allowed me to see only bits and pieces of the real world, as I, once again, found men that I could construct a dream world around. But these were different than those one-way-relationships that I had in high school. Now that I had a reference point, I had expectations of what an actual relationship was supposed to be like. However, I set the bar substantially lower for these new fantasy boyfriends than I did for my real-life ex. When they would meet my expectations, liking my social media post, for example, I would wrap the blanket around me even tighter until I could only see the world through the soft fuzzy blue fabric. Somehow I’d convinced myself that the slight sign of their interest gave every indication that they returned my feelings. While those moments of connection were pure bliss, there were many other moments, moments when they didn’t meet my expectations, where the fabric of my blanket would unravel, leaving me depressed for days. Valentine’s Day was always one of those moments, serving as a not so gentle reminder that the fantasies I loved so much, the world in my head, was just that, in my head. You can’t take your daydream out for a Valentine’s Day dinner, believe me, I tried.
This past year I tried desperately to hold on to a relationship that ended just as quickly as it began. For months I found myself searching for hidden meaning in texts and emails, clinging to the fact that their desire to still be friends hinted at their deeper feelings for me, and believing that if I just waited long enough they would return to the days where we would ramble on until 2am about baboons, bear cubs, and rainbows. This waiting, however, felt like torture. While I could enjoy fantasizing under my blanket, every time I peeked out, all I could see is that they had moved on and had no intention of coming back. During these moments, this blanket, which kept me so warm when I was a kid, became a straight jacket.
I write this not out of spite or anger against any of my past romantic interests, for they were mere bystanders in my quest to find someone to love. This is more of a promise to myself to start putting myself first and ONLY choose people who choose me as well.
I can’t exactly tell you what changed, but the straight jacket became so tight that I wanted to be done; not just with this particular situation but with all the waiting, believing, and fantasizing that only brought me an endless cycle of pain for the better part of 15 years. From my 7th-grade history teacher to the person who briefly dreamed of a life full of cripjoy with me, I wanted to be free from all of them and the pain of knowing that I will never spend a Valentine’s Day — or any other day — with them as their beloved. So, after a month of social isolation where I taught myself how to find joy within myself (instead of from my one-way-relationships), I made myself the following promise:
A Declaration:
I’m done with unrequited love.
I’m done reading into emails, text messages, and likes on social media.
I’m done thinking that if a guy keeps liking my posts, it means they like me.
I’m done coming up with funny/intellectual things to post, hoping they will like it.
I’m done waiting by my computer for that reply to an email that I sent days, weeks, or even months ago.
I’m done waking up every morning thinking about a guy who probably never saw me as more than a friend or a colleague.
I’m done searching conference rooms, hoping that he might be there for the one time of year that I get to share my work with the world.
I’m done thinking that professional coffees or casual meetups are maybe dates.
I’m done with guys living in my mind and heart rent-free for years.
I’m done making a guy the center of my universe when he’s made someone else the center of his.
I write this not out of spite or anger against any of my past romantic interests, for they were mere bystanders in my quest to find someone to love. This is more of a promise to myself to start putting myself first and ONLY choose people who choose me as well. I’m done living with a continuous broken heart — it’s just been too many years.
It’s been a month since I made this declaration, and I’m feeling healthier than ever. While I do still fantasize about finding my soulmate (I am a hopeless romantic and always will be), these fantasies no longer absorb my every available thought. Instead, I find myself discovering parts of me that I hid away because they didn’t fit in with the narrative of my fantasy. But I have to say, despite what my so-called friends in the 5th grade thought, I’m actually pretty cool, although I might be a little bit too obsessed with TikTok (I’m still a work in progress). I know it sounds a bit cliche, but getting to know the real me has been the best Valentine’s gift I could ever receive.
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