When everything you’ve known in your adult life has been influenced, prodded, and molded by the significant other in your life, standing alone is a little bit of a shock. Suddenly, your identity is your own, not simply a part of a package deal.
Right out of my marriage, a typical Get-to-Know-You conversation went horribly awkward at every turn, like this:
Q: Do you watch Stranger Things?
A: No, what is that?
Q: You’ve never heard of Stranger Things??? What kind of TV do you like to watch?
A: …. I don’t watch TV.
Q: Whaaaat?? What about movies?
A: No, I don’t really like movies.
Q: Huh, OK. Well what kind of music do you listen to?
A: …… I don’t really listen to music either……………
Q: So when you drive, you don’t listen to anything?
A: No.
Q: Not even, like, podcasts?
A: Nope.
Q: Well, to each their own.
Imagine this type of conversation with any type of popular culture reference. I’m not on social media, I don’t watch most TV or movies, I don’t listen to much music, and I am unfamiliar with most of what is popular/going viral/common-knowledge-to-everyone-but-me-apparently.
After a few of those conversations, I started to get curious. Why did I stop watching TV and movies? When did I stop listening to music? How did I reach a point where it never even occurred to me to explore what interests me?
The answer I found is sad but not uncommon:
I lost my sense of identity along the way.
My first serious relationship was with a childhood friend, we’ll call him Julian. We began dating at the end of high school (a few weeks after my 18th birthday and a few days before his) until I was a sophomore at university. Although I have always had strong opinions, when it comes down to expressing what my preferences are, I have the tendency to defer to the other person/people around me.
Julian had very specific tastes in what he liked to listen to (rock music), watch (horror films and comedy shows), and do (play guitar, video games, and watch TV/movies). I did not have anything against rock music and enjoyed some of the it.
But we only ever listened to his music. I had none to share of my own. All I had been allowed to listen to growing up was Christian music.
Though I expressed that I did not want to watch horror films because they freak me out, I still found myself watching them with him. I always conceded.
The types of things he found funny, I generally did not find humorous (mostly racist and sexist jokes), and so I did not enjoy the comedy shows he shared with me. Of all the things we watched together, my favorites were Gabriel Iglesias and The Farting Preacher (don’t judge, it’s hilarious!).
And what he did, well, I was just there to hang out with my boyfriend. So what if I was bored to death while I pretended to be interested in hearing him practice the same 14 songs over and over and over and over and over…..
When he was done, we could cuddle.
I felt safe, warm, wanted.
Who cared what else we did as long as I had that? It’s not like I had any other suggestions. I had almost no opinion at all.
When the relationship ended, rock music, comedy, horror films, and guitar all left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted nothing to do with any of those things. I firmly decided I didn’t like them. I stopped listening to music altogether, never watched another film in the horror genre, gave away all my guitars, and avoided comedy in its totality, even Gabriel Iglesias and The Farting Preacher.
Now I’m not sure that I really don’t like them or if resent them because of the association to Julian. In fact, if I am honest, I haven’t given those things much of a chance. I resent them, but I don’t really know any of them well.
My ex husband and I met as my relationship with Julian was ending. We’ll call him Dmitry. Same song, different fiddle. I integrated some of this interests into mine and tolerated the rest.
This time, I had some of my own interests to share, but not many.
I carved out time for my knitting. Watched some goofy shows like The Flash and Arrow. Kdramas. One of my sisters was into the Game Grumps at the time, and I watched some of that. Listened to Game Grump Remixes (atPunk makes the best of them).
But the rest was all Dmitry.
He loved Metallica, Tool, Wheezer. He liked to watch action movies and documentaries. And his interests consumed him. Olive trees, brewing beer, drinking beer, antiques.
One of my favorite songs (maybe?) is Nothing Else Matters by Metallica. I also like antique furnishings and books (highly impractical as I have no interest in reading these ancient texts). And I know way more about olive trees than I ever thought I needed to.
Interestingly enough, I feel no resentment towards Dmitry’s interests.
Except alcohol.
He brewed 5 gallons at a time. That’s about 53 cans of beer. It would typically last about a month once it was ready to drink.
But that’s not all he drank.
He bought beer all the time, even when we were eyeballs deep in his debt. Guzzled wine from a huge stash he had from his first marriage when we literally had no money left. He’d insist that he could stop drinking if he wanted to, but could never go longer than 4 or 5 days without starting back up again. He’d hide beer from me in various nooks and crannies in the house. I found many stashes, who knows how many more remained hidden from me in the 6 years we were together.
He always apologized, swore he’d stop. But of course never followed through. It’s a story many, many people have lived infinite variations of.
I stopped drinking alcohol for about 5 years from 2017 to 2022. I’d have a sip (literally one sip) here and there at social gatherings, but no more than that. I didn’t start to open back up to drinking alcohol until almost a year after I separated from Dmitry.
I’ve tried drinking at home and with close friends. But I hardly ever want to drink. I haven’t had a drink in 2 months, and before that, I hadn’t had one in 3 or 4 months. I had a couple dozen cans of beer that sat in the fridge for about 6 months before I finally just gave them away. I have 5 bottles of spirits sitting on a shelf that haven’t been touched in several months; some haven’t been touched in well over a year.
I resent alcohol. I am afraid of alcohol. But alcohol hasn’t done anything to me. Dmitry has. If alcohol is not for me, I want to make that decision from a healthy place, after having explored and evaluated it. Not from a place of fear.
The relationship with Julian was toxic. But the relationship with Dmitry was abusive. I couldn’t explore my interests without being accused of subterfuge. I retreated into myself, occupied myself with work, chores, children, supporting his efforts.
I retreated so far into myself that my relationship with the outside world is broken.
My relationship with music is broken.
My relationships with television and movies are broken.
My relationship with alcohol is broken.
My relationships with fashion, food, social media, sexuality, spirituality, money, adventure, knowledge itself — none of them are whole.
Because I lost myself.
But as I dive deeper into my identity, I will explore each of these in turn. I’m committed to discovering the nuances of me, what I find interesting and why. What I dislike and why. What challenges me to expand my thinking.
One day at a time, one new experience at a time, I am putting the pieces of my identity back together.
**READ ME (please)**
Two things!
One, please note that the names of everyone in this blog have been altered to protect the people I write about. My main goal is to explore my experiences and my growth, not air anyone’s dirty laundry out. Any likeness to people you know in real life are probably coincidental. (I mean what are the chances? It’s a pretty big world!)
Two, the thoughts and opinions I express in this blog are merely a result of my personal experiences to this point in my life. If there is anything I have misrepresented, overlooked, or have a blind spot for, feel free to leave a comment or email me at contact@livingbetween.net. (Yes, this includes typos. Let me fix my typos, please!) All I ask is that you always remain respectful.
Talk soon!
– Lynda –
Living Between 