When I was nineteen, I fell in love with this boy who was my perfect foil. We were complete opposites, unexpected compliments, and to me he was the most important person in the world. He made me that girl who was stupid happy in her relationship, and I felt like I was absolutely invincible. I felt like I was someone incredibly special, and as if I was the only girl in the entire world. I was the girl who believed in forever, and happily ever after. The one who believed in grand gestures and soulmates.
And so, when he dumped me two years later, I was obviously devastated.
He had made me into the girl who cried herself to sleep, the girl who constantly put on a facade for Snapchat or social media. The girl that would listen to Sam Smith and cry by herself, but tell her friends that she was perfectly okay. The girl that would nearly cry every time she walked past a certain burger joint, and the girl that was completely and utterly broken inside. It was undeniable that I was completely shattered, and that I was honestly, an emotional mess.
I didn’t know how to handle things and I felt like my world was falling apart, and as if the love of my life had pushed me into a ditch and walked away without looking back.
All those terrible dates I went on, they made me into the girl that constantly had to argue for her right to be unbothered and left alone. I was that girl that stood up for herself and was tired of dealing with nonsense.
And when a guy decided to emotionally cheat on his girlfriend of three years with me, he made me that girl that was worth wanting but not worth keeping. He made me that girl that would sit on the floor of my apartment eating Halo Top, and the girl that would replay Snapchat stories and ask why I wasn’t good enough. I was that girl that felt inadequate, unwanted, and as if I didn’t matter.
And although I have been made, even pushed, into becoming different women throughout different points of my life because of these different guys, all of those women played a part into the woman I am today. And she is pretty bad ass.
I’ve learned that we can become pretty questionable people as a result of relationships, not necessarily only romantic relationships, but also our relationships with friends and coworkers. It happens to the best of us (although most of us wouldn’t write about it on the internet…), and more importantly–it happens. Each and every person and interaction shapes us into the person we are meant to become.
It’s cliche and it sounds cheesy, but it’s the truth. And it’s embarrassing to think about who we used to be. Hell, I hate remembering that at one point of my life I would nearly cry every time I walked past Busy Burger or that I listened to Sam Smith and cried.
But each and every person we used to be contributed to the person that we are today. Embarrassing or not, they endured something and lived through it. And you’re still here, breathing and living, significantly stronger than you were before.
Its kind of like when you upgrade your phone, except it comes from within. And not from Apple. Unless you’re an Android?
And although the person other people make you plays a part, I think more importantly the person you make yourself matters much more. Those people might have made me into different forms of myself, but it was me who made myself grow out of being sad and lame.
It was me who made myself move forward, and no longer feel like the trash that someone else made me feel like. You can make, and affect yourself so much more than another person can. And instead of using it to bring yourself down… use it to lift yourself up.
Someone else might have made me that girl that was a weakling, but I made myself the woman who is fiercely independent, unabashedly candid, sassy and tremendously strong. And although we act ashamed of our past selves, I would have never become this person if it was not for who I was before. And the people that made me that way.
I will talk to you all Monday, after my little break!