Diary of an (ex)relationship anorexic
Love doesn’t fix you, but it sure as hell shows you where you need fixing.
Recently, I learned about a concept called “relationship anorexia.” It’s where people starve themselves for connection, usually as an attempt to keep themselves safe. For someone who came of age in the 2016 “if you don’t love yourself, how are you supposed to love someone else?” era of the “discourse,” this was a personal call out.
I fell prey to this idea that you had to be okay on your own to deserve or be ready for connection. Now I’ve learned this is a profound misunderstanding of what human relationships are like.
As a caveat, I do think there are some people, or some times in people’s lives where dating is probably not the best idea. I’ve probably even been that person, but more often than not, the people who are taking a break from dating, or pushing away their friends, or languishing in isolation are perfectly lovely, if lonely, anxious, and perfectionistic people. The people who are shuffling through relationships like a deck of cards, and maybe need to pause and do some reassessing, are usually NOT the people who “are taking a break from dating” or “focusing on themselves.” (yes, I realize this is judgmental, but it’s my substack, go home if you’re annoyed.) Maybe the food metaphor serves well here too. Some people binge on relationships to feel better while others restrict them as a means of control. I definitely fall into the latter category.
I met my current boyfriend while I was “taking a break from dating.” Those who know me know there were more breaks than attempts, and it was sheer dumb luck, divine providence, or a combination of the two that I met anyone at all.
During our early will-they-won’t-they flirtation, I was extremely concerned that I was not “ready,” stable enough, or whatever else to date him. Despite immense attraction, compatibility, and maybe even the early stages of love on my end, I was considering distancing myself and forgoing the risk of pursuing our connection.
To give myself credit, it was a stressful time of life and I was certified hotmess™️. Moving from friends to lovers sent me into a true panic, but I can’t imagine my life now any other way. He’s one of my best friends, wide-eyed and idealistic in a way that keeps me sane, and a good cook to boot!
In some ways, I was right in thinking I wasn’t ready for this. Maybe you’re never ready? I’ve definitely had to learn on the fly, but I don’t think there’s a way to learn some things without another person to challenge you. I’ve learned my self-criticalness can be obnoxious and create stress for others, even though I’m attempting to never bug anyone ever. I’ve learned that defensiveness is a relationship killer, and no matter how afraid you are that something is going terribly wrong, or how deeply you feel your partner is being unfair, it’s probably better just to hear them out first.
I’ve also felt a lot of my positive traits reflected back to me through his eyes. He makes me feel smarter and really believe that what I have to say as a writer matters. His routine response to my articles is “you’re brilliant” followed by a discussion of whatever idea is at hand. And I believe him when he says this, because I actually respect and cherish what he has to write about too.
I feel more attractive (crazy how a little appreciation will do that for a girl), and I feel stronger both physically and mentally. He reminds me I’m tough and strong and can do the things that scare me. As a pretty anxious and risk resistant person, this is amazing.
There are a million benefits to these kinds of connections, but I’ve had to learn how to have healthy connections too – and I haven’t always been good at it.
Love’s superpower is to show you what needs fixing. Bumping up against another person’s heart and mind teaches you something about yourself. You don’t only learn what obnoxious things you do around the house – mine is leaving water bottles with their lids unscrewed and waiting to be spilled — you also learn if you can take criticism, how well you communicate, what parts of you are hurt, cranky, and need a little care. Love asks you to release control in a terrifying way. It asks you to trust, and there’s no way to protect yourself completely from these risks and still have love.
Trusting another person’s vision of you, their assessment of your strengths and weaknesses, is a new kind of intimacy I’ve never experienced. It’s nourishing and terrifying. That’s why I think the concept of “relationship anorexia” is such a helpful one for me.
When we cut ourselves off from others, we deny ourselves the things we need to grow. We shrink our lives and ourselves into something small and miserable and safe. It’s so so hard to love people and to open yourself up to that, but it’s also the only way to live. This whole idea of healing, self-protection, and the rest is maladaptive. I’m all for removing people who are hurting you from your life, but just because you had an evil ex-boyfriend (canon event unfortunately) who needed to go, doesn’t mean everyone is a threat to you. They might be frustrating sometimes, or require you to examine parts of yourself you’d rather ignore, but people are generally good to have around. Whatever security or convenience loneliness offers us, comes at a heavy price, a soul shrinking one.
Like our bodies wither and die without food, our hearts and minds need connection to grow and thrive. Take it from me (and hopefully be braver than I’ve been).
I’m genuinely worried about the number of us that can’t find connection and won’t accept it when it comes. I’m worried about the way technology numbs us to these needs and let’s us forgo real connection for cheap entertainment. It feels like opportunities for my fellow Gen Z folks to connect are getting slimmer and slimmer. It doesn’t have to be that way.
While I explore this new city, try to put myself out there (I’m writing this surrounded by strangers at a writer’s workshop), I’m reminding myself that relationships are hard, sometimes scary, but love is the stuff of life.