Loss is a funny thing. When someone dies, they disappear. Yet, at the same time, the relationships we developed during the person’s lifetime continue to exist, almost like fossils that outlive the flesh. What gets a lot of us into trouble, however, is the way in which we choose to recall the relationships and let them live on.

I spent over an hour this evening talking to one of my best friends. Although we weren’t talking about Emily, we were talking about relationships and life. At one point, I mentioned how I need to stop looking at my relationship with Emily as the “exception,” and my friend chimed in with something incredibly true yet beyond my recognition:

“You sometimes romanticize your relationship with Emily.”

I know what I had with Emily was lovely. And, when I really think about it, I also know that our relationship was far from perfect. Yet, in her death, I’ve done myself a great disservice — I’ve let myself carry around all of the best pieces of the relationship and left out the rest.

But here’s the thing: if I keep holding onto a partial narrative and use it as a yard stick against everyone else, no one will ever measure up. And what is that doing? It’s hurting me, it’s hurting people who are willing to give me a chance even though they see all the baggage I come with, and it hurts any chances I have of ever being happy again.

We All Have Flaws

So far, I think the only truly “negative” thing I’ve said about Emily anywhere in posts on this blog is that she was messy. And although it’s true, it’s far from the only flaw she had.

For example, Emily avoided conflict even more than me. In fact, she often avoided it to the point that she would be passive. She wouldn’t stand up for herself at work, she wouldn’t tell me when I did something that annoyed her, and she wouldn’t say no to anything anyone asked.

Here’s where this became a problem: we’d never talk through our issues until one of us built up so much resentment that we couldn’t take it anymore. When it finally all spilled out, I’d end up crying and apologizing, so she’d end up crying and apologizing, and then we’d move on.

I think if we’d been willing to communicate before that point, we could have covered much more ground. We are both strong, we can handle it… But we never gave the other person a chance to show that. And that was ultimately a disservice to us both in our respective recoveries.

Also, Emily had this habit of lying in a way that she didn’t really see as lying. I often called it her version of “bending the truth” or avoiding it altogether.

Sometimes it would be something small, like when she’d use the credit card she shared with her parents to pay for something. She’d tell me that her parents owed her for something else she paid with her debit card, while she’d simultaneously tell her mom that her “debit card wasn’t working.” Other times it would be something much larger, like hiding our relationship from everyone for months or covering up the fact that she got fired from a job.

Over time, I learned some of her “tells” and would try to talk through it (or in the case of the credit card, I’d just pay if she pulled that out). However, I firmly believe there were probably things she lied to me about that I may never know fully.

We Were Never Perfect

I know I was happy with Emily, and I’d like to think she was happy to. But, ultimately, I know things weren’t perfect — and I’m just as much to blame as anyone else.

Emily was incredible with providing validation. Maybe it was her social work background or her own struggles with self-esteem, but she could argue with all of my negative thoughts about myself and never seemed exhausted by it.

Unfortunately, this means that I sort of “cheated” my way through self-love work, and although my self-esteem grew exponentially between 2020 and 2022, some of it died again along with her. I now see just how much of an issue that is, and I’m not thrilled about it.

Also, because we knew each other well and had been in group therapy together years before we started dating, I think we both learned how to play therapist to each other when it was needed. Although this helped us dig into issues at times, it makes it impossible for me to now be a great communicator at times because I’m waiting for the other person in the dialogue to ask questions and pull things out of me.

Now, that’s not to say our relationship wasn’t good, it just wasn’t as perfect as I try to make it out to be in my head.

I Want Something Different

I love Emily. And I know I always will. But now that I’ve had time to pause and reflect, I don’t think I’d choose an identical relationship again.

Do I miss her? Of course! But do I want to continue living in this place where I’m setting myself up for failure by romanticizing what we had? Absolutely not.

Every relationship is different. And I hope that I can find someone who loves me as I am, in this present version of myself, and is willing to walk alongside me as I continue to grow and thrive. I want someone who is willing to do the work together, even on the messy days. I want a partner in crime who understands they aren’t filling the shoes Emily left, but rather standing in their own.

And, for myself, I want to find a happy medium where I can remember Emily without turning her into a saint. Because she wouldn’t want that anyway.