An Indeterminate Ballroom Dance (I’m Still Learning)

Written by Sydney Tate Bradford

Graphics by Jade

I really hate to say it darling, but I’m having trouble reaching peace. Our differences were once comforting and something to celebrate, now I’m unsure if we could ever have the life we dreamed of.

I want to be the person who can accept change and flow willingly, but it’s the absolute degradation of our previous agreements that is trying to kill me.

We were upfront about fears and what our relationship could look like - am I remembering incorrectly? Did I confuse agreement and shared vulnerability with a genuine incompatibility?

It’s a bit cruel to me to act as if there were warnings to be heeded, yet I can’t help but let my mind wander. It is always a risk to trust, to open your heart, and imagine your life with another person in it for the foreseeable future. For the first time in a very long time, I took it.

I was brave. You were daring, too.

It was the love I’d wondered just the year before, “would I be ready to receive this?” and God, you made it feel so simple. Security felt like an old friend I was meeting brand new again (though we never knew each other very well in the first place). You introduced me to places, people, and experiences I had no clue I’d be able to see in this life.

If we’re talking about non-negotiables, desires, and what we deserve out of a partner — you were that and so much more. In our short time, my list grew infinitely, but I liked that you were there in it. The blueprint, if you will.

A love like heaven and a love like bliss.

And yes, this union of values, hopes, and dreams does not ensure a lack of damage done in any capacity. We are infinitely capable of harming the people we love — and for some reason, I blocked out all notion in my mind that you and I would be exempt.

That realization came crashing in like a tidal wave — the rug ripped out from underneath me, a metal door smacking me directly in the face, or the color of our painting fading completely to black and white — with you leaving me behind. A kiss for you, my collateral damage.

I am no stranger to codependency or avoidant attachment.

I spent my late teens in a push-and-pull dynamic that could be crowned for its predictability. The speech seems pretty consistent across the board —

“Nothing has changed about the way I feel for you. I’ve never been in love like this or shared myself with another person in this way, and what we have is so special, which is why it hurts so bad to do this, but being in a relationship makes it hard for me to focus on myself. I need to be alone and figure this out because right now I’m not in a place to treat you in the way you deserve.”

I want to beg.

I want to plead better than I ever have — my darling, we are better than this. We are two people who have seen the beauty of connection and who are willing to be there through the ever-changing landscape that is finding love in our early twenties — while exploring ourselves, careers, friendships, and community.

We were approaching Spring and talking of the places we’d go when it’s warm, and the ways we might need a bit more space in the coming months. On the exact day you told me “I can’t do this anymore,” I was waiting to profess my utter commitment to navigating this space together, including an adjustment in the time we spend.

I needed more space to re-evaluate my career, friendships, and setting up therapy, but I didn’t imagine you out of the picture (it was quite the opposite). It was exhilarating to think about this new territory our relationship could enter, with me assuming we’d grow closer in our mutual support, understanding, and respect for individuality.

It feels unfair. I may not be able to shift this perspective and hurt, but I have to respect your boundaries. I celebrate your growth like I celebrate my own, though I understandably thought there was space for the both of us.

You noted in a letter (left in a tote bag with clothes you returned) about the unconditionality with which I love you. I don’t disagree, and that has always and will forever include honoring your experience. You are on a specific path, on a unique timeline, and with no limit on your lessons in healing and what this life means for you.

As we all are. And although these fears were presented in celebration — we both were scared, we both weren’t looking for anything in particular when we first met, but we agreed that we had found something special in each other’s eyes, hearts, and souls.

Although these fears — my issues with trust, my inclination to keep walls up, your hesitation with conflict, your inclination to keep walls up — were substantial, we agreed on our common values and a commitment to understanding and growing together.

It hurts, and despite my belief in the ability to communicate and honor one another, I have to respect your wishes. Even as I type this I’m thinking, what about mine? But it doesn’t work that way.

Four years ago, I begged and was obliged. It wasn’t right for either of us. We chased in circles with “I deserve to be treated this way,” and “I can’t show up for you, but I want to so badly, and I’m trying,” with no changed behavior to match. We couldn’t have known the wiser, and I won’t repeat those mistakes.

I won’t do this same dance with you, dear.

Still, in our departure, I was meant to believe that this is an act of love instead of abandonment. I’m not so sure there’s a concrete line, and I don’t want to disagree, but the handling of it was a deep, dark, gray.

What we shared empowered me to confront certain tendencies in a way I hadn’t known before. My inner child felt seen and heard, and with you, I accessed a playful part of my personality that I had long forgotten.

I feel harsh and critical in more ways than one, and it isn’t my favorite quality, but the possibility of something different was heavenly and hopeful. It is wonderful to know I can be that person again someday, but I still was in love with her so much alongside you.

I was in love with who we were together and every aspect of your perception, your passion, and the realm we imagined between us. At this moment, I’m in opposition to “lessons learned” — I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, or as you insisted, “get home safe.”

I was a big fan of this new territory, and I looked forward to being there until further notice. It would be wrong to disallow the necessary space for us both or to revisit one another so soon that it’s in vain. I won’t disrespect this process, and I am doing everything I can to find out what it means for me moving forward, but I don’t know how to move on.

I may never let go of this love, and I would have to be okay with that.