About five months ago I broke up with my boyfriend who I had been with for 15 months. On paper, he was great: tall, handsome, decent job, and owned a nice 3-bedroom 2.5-bath townhouse with a 2-car garage near the city. On the inside, it was a different story. He was very insecure and had no problem projecting those insecurities onto me. It was very cyclical. When things were good, they were really good. When things were bad, they were really bad. Huge roller coaster ride!
What did I do? I took it. Tried to endure it. Tried to make it work because I'm stubborn that way. He broke up with me at the one-year mark but then asked me to get back together a month later. Silly me, I fell for it. A month into that he went back to his old ways and I realized I wasn't happy and just couldn't take it anymore. There was a lot of push/pull in the relationship and he just couldn't cope with life without me constantly building him up and making him feel better. It just wasn't working for me. I loved him, cared about him, even wanted to save him, but I had to save myself.
In the aftermath, less than a month later he jumped straight into a relationship with someone new. This further devastated me because, in spite of all the craziness, I still cared about him very much and was still grieving him.
I fell for a jerk and I needed to figure out why. More importantly, I needed to figure out why I stayed. I think I've come to the conclusion that I stayed because I wanted to settle down. About two years ago, I literally just woke up one day and decided I wanted to be married. I had been perfectly happy spending most of my 20's not dating much, traveling a lot, and putting a lot of time in at work. But a few months after I turned 27, something just went off in my brain. I don't think it was the biological clock because I don't really want kids. It was something else… something in my head telling me that enjoying all of life's pleasures alone for the rest of my life wasn't what I really wanted. I needed a base... a home plate. I wanted to get married and settle down into a home and I thought homes came with a marriages.
Then he came along… a break-up 15 months later… and 5 months after that, here I am.
I'm beginning to realize that I stayed because, on the outside, he had the package I was looking for. He owned a home, had a nice car, had a decent job--most important being he owned a home. A very nice home. A home that was less than 10-years-old. A home he had been in for less than two years and hadn't decorated yet. A home that I could see myself turning into my own. A home that I could share with him and make into not just "mine" but "ours." I stayed because, well, I wanted a home… and remember, I thought homes came with marriages.
Even though I'm a career-driven woman who can take care of herself, I think when it came down to it, the thought of owning a home by myself scared me too much to ever consider it. I didn't just want to get married, I wanted a home. I thought the only way I could get it was by meeting the right guy. I mean, who would want to marry a woman who already owned a home? What if I bought a home that was too small for two people? What then? What if I couldn't sell it? What if I had to rent it? What if I stretched myself financially? What if the roof leaked? What if I felt lonely? What if, what if, what if??!!!!
Let's face it, I thought my ex held the key to my happiness. That lead to my co-dependence on him and willingness to let him to project his insecurities on to me the way he did. It was a perfectly dysfunctional relationship. I wanted him to make me happy by giving me a home. He wanted me to make him feel better about himself.
The lesson learned: happiness really does come from within.
So what am I doing to make myself happy? I'm buying my own home. I placed an offer on a townhouse last Saturday and am waiting to hear about a counter offer. This townhouse is much smaller than his obviously because it's what I can afford. His was very nice and much more expensive but I later discovered that his parents gave him a six-figure "loan" to purchase it. I personally wouldn't call that a loan.
If I'm able to purchase this home, I'll look at my little townhouse and be proud that I took control of my life, purchased what I could truly afford, and made my own home and my own sense of happiness. Instead of being a victim of my situation, I've become a creator. Instead of depending on someone else to make me happy, I'm making myself happy.
I had a small emotional break-down last week and confided in a male co-worker about how this independent woman stuff was just hard and unfair. I wasn't supposed to go through this whole home-buying thing alone. Keep in mind that this co-worker is in his mid-thirties and is married with a wife and two small kids. His response to me was this:
"You're a professional woman. Professional women wear shoes and buy townhouses."
It made me laugh. It also made me feel better because it's true as I do in fact wear shoes (love shoes!) and am buying a townhouse. He followed it up with: "Better than standing barefoot in someone else's house."
That second part didn't just make me laugh, but made me think….
If I had married my ex, I'd be barefoot in someone else's house. Maybe not literally, but definitely figuratively. I would have had my home but I would have been miserable living in it because I would have been with the wrong person in an unhappy situation.
The next time you find yourself thinking that a man will make you happy, stop yourself for a second and think about whether or not it's the man that will make you happy or what you think the man can provide that will make you happy. Chances are you could provide that for yourself. Happiness doesn't lie within another person--it turns out that it actually really does lie within ourselves.
Sandy O.
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