#amidel

at Havana, Cuba

To know yourself is to open yourself up to navigating the world in a way that serves you in the best ways.

Boundaries are healthy and necessary.

You can't fix people at the expense of your own mental health.

Love is a beautiful thing, even if it doesn't work out in the way you want.

Your parents are human and, as such, they'll make mistakes. They are also adult so you're not responsible for carrying the weight of their decisions.

It's okay to be proud of yourself and put you first.

Be open. To life's opportunities, love, and discovery in ways and places you might not expect.

People want to show up for you. Let them.

Surrounding yourself with black women will never steer you wrong.

Kindness never goes out of fashion.

Be patient with yourself, even on the bad days.

It’s been six and a half months since we broke up, and I know there’s no linear or correct way to go through the process of moving on. But yesterday was different. I take it you thought that we were sitting down so you could tell me about the new person you’re dating and that our situationship should go back to a friendship. What started as a conversation about where you’re at became a space for me to finally tell you all of the things that had been subconsciously gnawing at me. 

How do you go back to being friends with someone you were never with?

What makes you think that it’s acceptable to pick and choose the best parts of someone and want all the things you enjoyed, but give back the parts that you struggled with?

What do you want from me?

//

I asked you to be honest with me about why we broke up. Not the weird, prepackaged reason that you gave me in December. You said that after I mentioned that it wasn’t the real reason last time we saw each other, you realised you had been ignoring the deeper thoughts: what it comes down to is that you were scared.

1, scared because I always seemed sure of our relationship and it made you feel like there must be something wrong since you didn’t feel as certain.

and 2, scared because you thought I loved you more than you loved me.

It’s almost... comical... that you sat across a high-top table from me and said those words. Interestingly enough though, it gave me an opening.

//

I told you that it hadn’t been all peaches and daisies for me while we were together. There were a lot of really good moments, but underpinning all of that was my disappointment/sadness about feeling undervalued and underappreciated. the amount of time that I spent making sure you were comfortable, you were happy, you had what you needed... at the expense of losing myself in you. and all of that wasn’t because one of us loved the other more. it was because I actually tried. Really hard. But to be with someone who was blind to how their actions affect the one person you’re supposed to be a teammate to. That, was rough.

You weren't ready or willing to accommodate someone in your life. It was always the J Show and you came first. Every time.

Telling my parents about you much sooner than I was comfortable with- I did that to make you happy. Getting you gifts because I knew and understood your love language- I did that to make you happy. Because making you happy made me happy. So, don’t tell me it’s because I loved you more. It’s because I actually cared about investing time and energy into the relationship and holding up my side of the deal to be your partner. And I wasn’t ever sure that if it came down to it, you would pick me. Pick us. Make the tough call when you’re put in a difficult spot.

At the end of the day, you were looking for an out. Whether it was your clearance or something else, you constantly sought a reason to believe it wouldn't work out. You self sabotage.

//

You looked saddened, maybe surprised, at what I said. That I had raised issues that you thought you had made a lot of progress on internally. Clearly not. There’s work to be done. I recommended you spend some time alone for a while... sort out who it is you want to be and what you actually seek from a relationship with someone. So. date the girl, don’t date the girl, date someone else. Whatever. But don’t think it’s only an external problem. It takes two.

//

So I went dancing. Archived our photos on my Instagram. And deleted our text history (again). Not because I'm erasing you from my life, but because it's time to turn the page.

And now I feel... lighter? More at peace, in some ways. I’m sure it’ll continue to come in waves. But this feels good.

Today was a hard day. I have test anxiety; that much I’ve known for a while. I took the GMAT twice (once in 2017 and again this past fall in 2018)... and I’m slated to take the GRE tomorrow morning. The whole reason I’m taking these exams is to ‘prove’ to schools that I merit a place in their admitted MBA classes of fall 2019... I’ve received responses from several schools at this point and the conflict programmes really loved my application/profile. I can’t say the same for the MBA programmes... I haven’t gotten into the ones I wanted, except for an MIB programme that I’m not fully sure on. I have one school left on the docket - a true, blue MBA programme that, if I got in, would make this worth it and validating. And it all hinges on an exam I’m taking tomorrow that I’ve barely studied for.

Part of me wonders if I’ve done this to myself on purpose. Maybe I should have expanded my list of schools... looked at ones that were slightly less competitive? But that goes against everything in my spirit. When I set out on the grad app journey, I told myself that I wouldn’t settle for any programme below what I thought was ‘top’ or ‘competitive’. I let the exam get the best of me, which is extra painful given that most of it is getting over the mental blocade. So here I am... third time’s a charm. Except it might not be and this final school (that’s waiting on this score) may just decline my application like the other MBA programmes. And then I re-evaluate. And probably wallow. Definitely wallow.

I’ve made a decent amount of progress becoming and nurturing the person who takes life as it comes. And I thought I was doing pretty well. Until today. The anxiety monster reared its head with a vengeance, stirring up doubt about whether I’m good enough for these schools I’m set on, making me feel that lovely sensation of rejection as my mind started warping what his ‘secret’ motivations for breaking up with me could have been. Wondering if I set this grand plan in motion for nothing because come May, I’ll either be enrolling in the MIB programme as a failsafe or making the decision to wait yet another year and feel like I’ve failed myself and those who were rooting for me. I grew up knewing I was “good at school”- whatever that means. I tried really hard and succeeded at getting good grades. I worked for it, but at least school made sense. Even with the tougher subjects, I always found a way to get at least a B. And that was my security blanket. Aminata is good at school. Aminata is reliable. She doesn’t make a fuss. She does what she’s supposed to. I’ve shaken off some of that “golden child” mentality, but it’s definitely still something I struggle through sometimes. Particularly now when my path feels uncertain.. Am I no longer the reliable academic?

So we finally saw each other after 3 weeks of intermittent Twitter messages and Snapchat photos. I don’t know what I was expecting or wanted from the conversation, but I do know that I’m glad we had it. 

After getting through the niceties, you shared that you’d had a tough few weeks... crying for most of the night after we broke up... coming to terms that we weren’t together anymore. The difficulty you had dealing with the polygraph, your fender bender... that 2019 was not getting off to a good start for you. But the fact of the matter is, no matter how ‘hurt’ you were over it, it happened on your terms and was your decision. That’s something that I can’t say for myself. And so I sought you out.

I go through waves of being angry with you for not wanting to put in the work, sad about you throwing in the towel, frustrated that you didn’t give us a chance to figure things out *together*.. you name the emotion, and I’ve probably felt it at some point over the past three weeks.

So. Compass Coffee. We sit and chat... discussing some menial things, some serious things. And when I got into why I’d asked to see you, I could see your nervousness building. When we met and while we were together, I’ve always sought honesty and mutual understanding. To me, a breakup isn’t much different. I put how I felt on the table (ambushed, like the rug had been pulled out from under me, hurt, silenced) and to your credit, you responded positively and openly. Displaying the same level of emotional vulnerability that I’d grown to love. And after we navigated the questions/explanations/answers:

Why did you choose to do it then? / "There was never going to be a good time. I felt like I had made my decision and didn’t want to be unfair to you by pretending or putting us both through more pain by waiting. We didn’t have social things lined up so it wouldn’t be painful to disentangle our lives.."

Aside from grad school, why did you choose to raise issues of who we spent time with (and in what quantities), my more introverted side, and feeling unhappy? / "My issues with who we spent time with had more to do with me than with you. It was about me being in a relationship, and not necessarily me being in a relationship with you. I didn’t intend for my comments about introvertedness to come off as an attack and definitely didn’t link them to what you and I had discussed re: your anxiety. And I had felt unhappy but didn’t know why and I knew that raising it with you without presenting some sort of explanation would have just created more strain in our relationship. By the time I figured out what was causing it, it was too far gone and I couldn’t backtrack into a more reasonable ‘out’ that would’ve worked for us. I understand that some of this was unfair and I’m sorry that I made you bear the brunt of the responsibility that should have been shared."

We meandered from coffee to bookstores to a winding, aimless walk. Talking about everything and nothing, and I guess... learning how to be platonic. I don’t know if we’ll ever get there. It’s crazy to think that we went from speaking uncensored every day for 16 months, to weighing our words over a three-hour encounter. Or maybe it’s sad. I don’t know.

For my own purposes, I want to write more down... so I don’t forget what we discussed. But I’m already starting to forget bits and pieces/the flow of the conversation, because what prevails to me is this: you recognise the role you played, you’re sorry for hurting me, but most importantly: you didn’t want to put in the work (the last point being my inference). Be it grad school, career, or whatever... there was bound to be something that would have come up. And if you’re not committed to a relationship, any one of those issues becomes a prime reason why ‘it’s ill-fated’ as opposed to just another thing that you overcome.

So... friendship? I don’t know what that looks like with you, but you seemed eager to find out. Trial and error of contacting each other and seeing what’s comfortable... but you “reserving the right to say when it’s too much” almost brought us back a few steps in the conversation that was intended to provide clarity. How can you say that you want to be friends with someone, but then impose caveats that tip the balance of power? That’s not fair and that’s not friendship. So while you mull that over, I’m going on assignment. I’m going to take the time to figure out what I want a friendship to look like (if at all) and then we’ll see where we both are in March. Maybe that means we decide it’s best we don’t talk... while that makes me deeply sad, I also don’t want to be put in a situation where I feel like I’m being treated unfairly or toyed with.

On Friday, you returned from spending the Christmas holiday with your family and all I could think about was how excited I was to see you. We’d spent two weeks apart, which is typical for the end of the year when there’s so much to do and so little time. I got to your apartment on Saturday evening and could immediately sense that something was off. We bantered and you seemed tired, so I chalked it up as being the result of an 11h drive back from Nashville. I mentioned a few times how much I’d missed you and how excited I was to have you back. You said it was good to be back.

We watched five hours of The Marvelous Mrs Maisel and went to bed... I slept restlessly and the next morning you told me you couldn’t fall asleep until 3am. I found that weird since you were the one who asked to go to sleep, but oh well. I picked at my french toast (that you had left the house at 9am to get eggs and milk to make with) and the feeling of anxiety and unease continued to simmer. By the time we got to my house later on Sunday, I felt like I was bracing myself. For what, I didn’t know yet. Leah headed out the door and you rang out your usual “see you later!”. And then it was just the two of us.

I would’ve been tense either way, but the episode of Bob’s Burgers that was on wasn’t helping. I asked you if you were upset with me, and you said no, but didn’t meet my eye until you noticed I was holding your gaze. I paused the episode a few minutes later, and you sat up and turned to me. Before you opened your mouth, I felt like I already knew what was coming. There were a few phrases that stuck out, and others that feel like a blur.

“So I did a lot of thinking over the past week.”

“I’ve been unhappy for the past few months.”

“In your grad essays, you mentioned that you want to move home to Senegal, and I don’t think I’m in a position to do that with you.”

“Our futures and what we want aren’t aligned.”

“You want to sit on the couch and watch TV all day.”

“You like to lie in in the mornings on weekends and that drives me crazy. I can’t do it and I hate that.”

“We exist in your context. In your apartment. With your friends.”

“You want to spend a lot of time with me...”

I think this is the point at which I asked if we were having a conversation or if you had made up your mind. You responded with the latter... still, I offered my reactions. Logically, I took issue with your remarks on my habits and who we spend time with, for reasons that seem pretty obvious. I don’t know how many opportunities I’ve given you over the past year and four months to voice concerns, to tell me you’re not happy, to tell me how to make things better for us... you rarely took me up on any of them. 

The issue of grad school is valid and one that I think would have merited a conversation (that you said we weren’t having). The others, I try not to resent you for. What it comes down to is that you no longer wanted to be in a relationship, with me.. with someone else.. that, I don’t know. What I do know is that relationships are built on trust, communication, and commitment. There are so many things about the future that I don’t know, and I’d be lying if I said that there weren’t niggling thoughts in the back of my mind that shouted out some of the ways we were different (maybe too much so). But every day, I woke up and chose you and chose us. Because those naysayers in the back of my head were spoilers and I believed in us more than I believed what they were saying. 

Man, I love(d) you. I guess I need to get to the point where that’s in the past tense. I think you were trying to protect yourself and me when you brought up the varying reasons why it wasn’t going to work... it’s hurtful to tell someone that you said you loved just the day before that you were no longer interested in being in a relationship with them. I get that, and I forgive you. But for better or worse, my rational side has gone over that conversation in different stages of grief - irritated, disappointed, sad, heartbroken, ambivalent - and each time I see it in a new light.

You said that in many other ways, I was an excellent and amazing partner and that I shouldn’t take this as a reflection of who I am as a person. You asked if we could be friends eventually. I said that I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me, and that I would need some space. You mentioned how calm I was... I said I was heartbroken but processing and would respect your decision. 

Today is Saturday. Juice cleanse aside, I slept poorly most of the week and have barely eaten. Though for some reason I can’t seem to have a proper cry about this, my body’s definitely reacting to the sense of loss I feel. I am eternally grateful for my support system and network of friends and family who surround me. This week would have been exponentially harder without them. I still woke up on a few mornings with my heart heavy, but I have been getting through each day. One after the next. I still went to Yara’s party on New Year’s Eve and our belated holiday gathering last night. Baby steps.

Weekends are going to be the hardest part. We had an on/off schedule during the weekdays but I knew weekends were for me and you. Finding things to do so I don’t end up sitting on the couch feeling sad is almost in direct conflict to how I want to cope. But it’s probably the healthiest option to go after. Nothing against wallowing, but balance is important. Today is the first Saturday since our breakup and I went to brunch with Dueaa and Leah A in NE DC. We drove through regular traffic and every time I saw a white Jeep, my heart skipped a beat. 

So. I don’t think we can be friends yet. Maybe when my heartbeat settles.

I had a slip-up and sent you a link on Twitter on Thursday. It was about Obama and Hamilton and while I think you appreciated it, I definitely just felt the need to be connected to you somehow. I told you about my juice cleanse and how I’m starting therapy. You seemed happy for me but didn’t offer any updates about yourself. As Yara pointed out, I need to get used to the idea that you’ve lost the privilege of knowing how I feel, my hopes and dreams, and my life updates. The nitty gritty crevices that people in your inner circle are kept abreast of. You were polite and encouraging in your responses. You’ve always been polite - that’s what drew me to you. So well-mannered. But I was right when I asked you for space on Sunday. This half-in, half-out isn’t going to work.

I think the hardest part is breaking habits: not texting you in the morning when I wake up, or when something reminds me of you, or the mindless banter on GChat that would make my work day a little less draining. 

I don’t regret any part of being with you. I think a part of me knew that I was more “in it” than you were... you were never overt about it, but I guess time together helped teach me how to read you. I keep telling myself that I’m glad this happened now as opposed to in the summer when I would be moving or changing things in my life. Imagine making a decision thinking you and someone else were on the same page, and it turns out you were reading different books. Now that’s heartbreaking. 

Still. It doesn’t make it easier. My rational thoughts have won out this week, but I’m dreading the moment that my emotions catch up. Though, I wouldn’t be mad at a healthy cry. How do I feel now?

Relieved that I started 2019 with the people who want to be in my life. Still sad. Thankful for the people around me. Lonely that it’s a Saturday and I’m on my couch with music and my thoughts for company. Happy that while it didn’t last, we had a year and four months of growth, love, and respect. Nervous that I’ll see another white Jeep and that’ll be what brings the tears on. 

All I can do is take things a day at a time. This is weekend one. Next will be weekend two, and so on, so forth. It’s an odd and disappointing feeling to feel unwanted, but I also understand that not all things last. And I’d rather know now so other blessings can come my way. I keep thinking I want to be six months out from this already so hopefully I’m in better spirits. But that’s not how that works.