About finding and loosing Love
Romantic relationships have never been easy for me to find or maintain. I always felt like my idea of love and relationship was too much for my (potential) partners—too much commitment, too much intensity, too much time or closeness that I wanted to share, too many expectations or desires on my part. At some point, I started wondering if my idea of love had been distorted by unrealistic Hollywood ideals and whether I simply had to accept that the deep love my whole being was searching for did not exist.
That was until I met my current partner. Suddenly, I found myself reflected in my wishes, visions, and energy, and I could hardly believe my luck. After so many years, there was finally someone who shared similar perspectives on so many levels. When I looked at him, I saw myself—in a male bodyshape. The synchronicity was almost eerie. I floated for weeks, months…
Until I fell from cloud nine into a crisis: What if I lose this? What if I can’t keep up with his rhythm? What if our ideas evolve in opposite directions? What if my body needs something different than his? What if our interests drift apart, or worse—what if we bring unhealthy dynamics into our relationship? Words can only ever describe concepts in our minds, and those concepts are unique to each person. At the beginning of our relationship, I projected all my wishes and ideas onto my partner like crazy. Because for years, I had been carrying around a massive sense of lack. Over time, and through the challenges in our relationship, I gradually got to know his definition of love, relationship, and partnership. And I had to consciously ask myself (maybe for the first time): What is my own definition of these concepts? With which ingredients do I define love and relationships for myself? How much of it is shaped by societal expectations, and what is at its core my own need? And where can we meet?
I noticed myself trying to keep up with him—pushing my inner demons aside to outgrow them faster so I could follow my partner.
After my previous relationship ended, I was deeply shaken but grounded. I was connected to myself and my body, trusting that I would find my way, and I was beginning to get a real sense of who I was. Shortly after, I met my current partner—meaning I barely had time to solidify and establish my newly found self-confidence. Our relationship was (and still is) so intense that I felt sometimes like I was dissolving into it. The stress was immense for my emotional, physical, and spiritual body. My mind kept telling me things like, “For the first time, I feel truly seen and loved… I can’t lose this now!” I felt like I had to try even harder, to arrive somewhere so I wouldn’t lose this connection. I needed to handle our open relationship better, become more financially independent to be on equal footing, finally learn his language, get physically healthy so we could go on more adventures. I blamed myself for not being able to handle situations better and feared that my mental loops and anxieties would eventually become too much for him, that he would find someone who could bring more lightness into the relationship. And so, I built up an immense level of expectation for myself.
Until the pressure became too much. At a ritual with friends, I reached my breaking point. Everyone in the circle shared their intentions. They were in high spirits, ready to have a good time, and when it was my turn, I simply said, “Tonight, I invite death. I don’t want to fight anymore.” Boom. Needless to say, for a moment, the room went completely silent. 😉
My mind already knew what I meant by that: Everything passes. Anicca. Anyone who has ever done a Vipassana retreat knows what I’m talking about. The principle of constant change and impermanence that we are all subject to. And of acceptance. But this truth had not fully landed in my system yet. So that evening, I opened myself to the process of letting go. I focused inward—what would it be like to no longer exist in the external world? To not have to fight, to keep up, to adapt? To simply settle into myself? Who would I be then? And how would that feel?
And I reached a level of peace that I had never known before. I heard everyone around me talking, laughing, making music—in a foreign language I could no longer follow. My classic trigger of feeling abandoned was activated again. And I stayed with myself. I actively pulled my mind back into my inner world, over and over again. Eyes closed, I allowed every emotion, every wave of tears, every feeling of not belonging and losing connection to wash over me. Just to see what it would do to me—to focus not on what I was losing, but on what was there. Inside me. Without any effort or struggle.
This feeling of inner warmth and peace was a new reference point for me, one I hadn’t even reached during a ten-day Vipassana retreat. And this reference still carries me today as I cultivate, alongside my beautiful relationship, a deep and loving relationship with myself. I am shaping my everyday life in a way that is no longer centered around our relationship dynamic. I am allowing myself to accept that my partner and I do and will have areas in our lives that are anything else but synchronized—different needs, different rhythms. The fear remains, whispering, “What if my true self evolves in a different direction?” And when I feel resistance rising again, I make a conscious choice to return to trust: I know that my partner and I will never lose each other as human beings. We will openly communicate about where our paths align and adjust our relationship accordingly. Neither of us intends to erase the other from our lives. The way we share our journey is a dance, a negotiation, something we discuss, adjust, and explore every single day.
When the fear and resistance come, I remind myself of a realization I had during the breakup with my previous partner: The people and partners I surround myself with are my choice. My self is not. My self is something I have to get to know, to respect, to trust—so that I can experience life in the way my soul has chosen for this lifetime. Otherwise, I would once again be acting out of fear, out of survival mode, out of lack—instead of love and abundance.
Today, my partner asked me if I like the version of myself that I am when I’m with him. And with a smile on my face and peace in my heart, I was able to say yes. I work on my challenges at my own pace, I no longer pressure myself, I accept our different needs, I nourish myself with things that feel good when he follows his own desires. And above all, I cherish even more the moments when we are in sync.
I wish Hollywood would tell more love stories like this. Maybe then, people would feel a little less pressure when things don’t follow a perfect script.
