highstrung lover

It’s not possible for someone to love me. It’s too hard. Not because I’m hideous or mean or evil or anything. But because of how my brain is wired to be. I step back when you reach out. I shut down when you show emotion. I cry when the things you say scare me. I run away before you can. 

I grew up around broken things–hearts, glass, dreams, relationships. My grandparents, my parents, my aunts and uncles. No one was happy, per se; they’d just learned to co-exist in the same space. For some, that wasn’t even possible. Most hardly spoke. I didn’t let that deter me. I grew up hopeful, going so far as to think I’d be married by my mid-twenties like my parents had been. To this day, I’m not entirely sure if I was naive or just plain silly. 

I had my first boyfriend when I was at the tail end of middle school. I thought that was it. He was the one. We’d be together forever, I mean, fuck whoever told us we could’t make it. They didn’t get it. They’d never experienced love like ours. 

But, as most relationships at that age ended, it was over soon after high school rolled around. I’ve spent my life after weaving in and out of relationships–some lasting as briefly as 2 months and some that spanned years. To be honest, it’s probably how young I am, but I always had trouble holding onto these relationships and my partners. A good amount of the time, they ended up not wanting to be with me anymore. I mean, hell, I understood their reasons, but fundamentally I just never got why. Wasn’t I enough? What more did I need to be?

Oh, if it’s anything worth mentioning, I am diagnosed with severe anxiety, depression, borderline personality disorder and complex-PTSD. They might play a part in this whole relationship thing too. But that’s hardly an excuse right? My mental health isn’t me…right? Do people actually know that or are they just saying they do? I’m starting to wonder…

I self-categorize as a highstrung lover. I’ve gone back and examined trends in my behavior when I’m in a relationship and when I am not. Allow me to highlight some phenomena I’ve observed:

Before a relationship: I have a firm grasp of my independence when I’m in this phase. I keep track of my schoolwork and my friend groups and my extracurriculars. My planner is organized, my friends see me around, and I go home every night. I watch my weight and climb regularly, making sure that I’m in shape and conscious of my diet. I still get my mood swings and panic episodes, but for some reason, everything seems to be more within my control. I’ve got a grip of reality and I don’t dissociate as often outside of my body. I can’t necessarily say I’m happy. I’m doing well, and for that, I’m thankful. 

I’ve jumped around from relationship to relationship for a long time. So even in this phase, it feels almost like I’m preparing for the next one. I wonder sometimes if I’m just lonely and waiting for the next person to come along and fill the void. But I’m not seeking attention or sex or any of that. I’m not always entirely sure what I want out of a relationship, because even though I have all of these values in the back of my head, they’re almost always compromised by the time I dive headfirst into commitment. 

During a relationship: This is where things get fun. It starts out slow because I’m not just yet willing to give up all of the independence I’ve gotten used to when I was single. But with time, I give myself up. I’m not always my own person, and I have a hard time making my own decisions. I let you take charge because I care more about what you think than how I feel. Sometimes, this drives you crazy but other times, you take advantage of it. 

When I love you, your world becomes mine. Your life consumes me and I let it sweep me away in a large wave that engulfs my life and shapes it into yours. Because suddenly, you become a whole new reason I get out of bed every morning. It almost gives me a purpose. But this heady, diving into love feeling can’t last long because it’s dangerous.

I’ll shake your world with my instability. My impulsive, erratic behaviors, my roaring laughter one second and tears the next. And when you think it can’t get any worse, I’m hiding alone, threatening to hurt myself as one reckless thought after another crashes into my brain. And you don’t know what to do, you’re helpless, watching me drown, unable to help me, you just keep watching, I’m pulling out my hair, so much is happening as we both wake up on the ground, breathless, unsure whose panic attack was worse, mine from spiraling or yours from worry. 

Once your world becomes mine, I drift farther away, unable to share because I become a people pleaser. I try so hard to make the people around me happy that I almost forget my own emotions and thoughts in the process. My background, my triggers, everything becomes insignificant because I have you now. My new love.

I’ll always be a self-destructive person. In the same way I build you up in my head, I do it to myself but am just as ready to tear myself down when I don’t live up to my picture-perfect standards I’ve constructed in my head. So yes, I cope as recklessly as I am hard on myself. Everything is bottled inside my pressure cooker, and I’ll just expect you to get it sometimes. To know that I’m in a funk or wildly ecstatic or nearing a breakdown. Because if I’m willing to give up part of myself for you, then wouldn’t you also do the same thing for me?

I know you often end up trying to just fix me instead. Maybe you can stop me from feeling as much or hurting myself as much as I do. At the end of the day, it gets too hard. That’s usually your cue to leave. 

So I’ve convinced myself that no one can love as hard as I do. No one can fall as hard as I do, try as hard as I do, care as much as I do. The love I thought I had was just that– 3 a.m. fantasies fit only for those that have never had to find the hope radiating from the white fluorescent lights in the psychiatrist’s office. For those that just got it–understood how to act in a cookie-cutter relationship and could choose the right hats to wear when. 

You know, a lot of what I described can be attributed to my mental illness. They have books on that shit, all mapped out about the different symptoms and how to treat them and all that. My erratic behaviors–explained. My mood swings–almost normal. My paranoia–understandable. My changing relationships–bound to happen. 

That’s okay, I thought as I went to therapy, I still think it’s fixable. It probably just takes tons of time. 

Then he came along. Yes, just like all stories go. But he didn’t change me. He just helped me understand. 

The first time we interacted, we met at the wrong time. Nothing came of it. I never expected to hear from him again. But just from the brief time we knew each other, I knew he was keeping something from me. 

The second time we met, something clicked again. The timing, though imperfect, was better than before. Two incredibly scarred people, falling in love over shared pills, compulsive behaviors, and odd idiosyncrasies. What could go wrong?

Almost everything. I realized soon enough that I was staring at a mirror. The manic, indescribable internal anger that fueled the self-destruction. The immediate distrust when someone seems invested. The caution every time the future is mentioned. The breakdowns that triggered the flashbacks, forcing me to confront my past and remember my traumas. 

We’d wake up together on the ground, me feeling the worry and him from spiraling. I might’ve been staring through a mirror, but I was standing on the other side of the fence this time. 

He is my highstrung lover. I’ve never loved someone that was anything like myself. It felt like I was being forced to get to know myself and my own coping mechanisms. I was faced with the decision to either stay and face the truth or leave and desert myself.

I know that I chose to stay not because I wanted to fix my highstrung lover. I wanted to support his dreams and cheer him on while also reaching for my own goals. I chose to stay not because I pitied him but because taking care of him meant that I was also learning how to take care of myself. I chose to stay not because he was incomplete without me. I stayed because even though he tried to understand every part of me, he never once tried to change any of it. 

I love my highstrung lover, but before I can fully fall in love with him, I have to first be in love with the lover I am. I have to recognize the way he loves me and reciprocate the reasons I love him with love for myself. I love that he accepts me, mental illness and all because he lives with it too. I love that he makes me feel safe and although he laughs at my shortcomings, he never faults me for them. I love that he’s all in and that he’s my person even when I’m not. Can I say that I love myself the same way?

I realize now that I grew up around many highstrung lovers. There’s no cookie cutter highstrung lover. Fuck, there’s no cookie cutter mental health either. Love and mental health lie in such a precarious balance that no book will ever be able to encapsulate the relationship between the two. 

Mental health, unlike relationships, isn’t necessarily fixable with just pills or therapy. It’s about reconciliation, but also, it isn’t compromisable. I’m not normalizing toxic relationships, but my highstrung lover has taught me to analyze and hold onto my values so I don’t let them be compromised. Toxic relationships, on the other hand, are demeaning, completely lacking in self-reflection and mutual respect. 

Highstrung lovers bend and and often threaten to break. They tow the line between reality and haze, and they confuse the absolute hell out of us. But they encourage us to be strong with how strong they are, and they teach us about ourselves and the ways we act around others. 

I’ve learned that it’s not about whether or not someone can love me or if I can let someone in. It’s about my own boundaries, my own reasons, my own safe space. It’s about me and what I want. It is accepting that I am a highstrung lover and being gentle enough with myself to hear my own needs before addressing someone else’s. 

Highstrung lovers are everywhere, in relationships and out. You might recognize them easily, but I’m fairly certain there’s at least one for every person. If you don’t think you know a highstrung lover, chances are, it’s probably you.