When It’s Your Fault

Cheating, lying, verbal abuse, repeat.

It’s easy to see the flaws in the way another person treats you when you are constantly feeling heartbroken. But is it as simple to see the same flaws within yourself?

Many of us can pinpoint a specific relationship where our partner treated us with disrespect and an overall lack of compassion. That’s the story of my life — at least, for the first few teenage relationships. I started dating my best friend in August of 2017. Let’s call him Ronny.

We were already incredibly close (we were best friends for years prior). Skipping the awkward “firsts” was unique for me because I was used to dating people who weren’t close friends. Ronny and I had this connection that was almost uncanny and irrefutable. We did everything with each other from driving to school to taking joint vacations — our time together was sacred to me, but I didn’t always treat it as such.

It’s hard to take responsibility, and it’s even harder to take criticism.

When he brought it to my attention that I was crossing a line with other guys, I denied it for months. I wasn’t cheating or lying per se, but I was acting towards other guys in a way that I should have only acted towards Ronny. I eventually accepted the responsibility (somewhat reluctantly at the time, if I’m being quite honest). However, months later, similar issues arose and all of them had to with my faults.

Why am I being ridiculed? Don’t attack me, the only person with whom you’ll ever have this extraordinary sort of bond! I would think these words to myself regularly, even though I slowly came to understand that the issues we were having were due to my failures as a girlfriend. Contentment in our relationship ebbed and flowed for months until college came around.

Ah, college.

Do we stay together or break up? The “mature” decision seemed to be to break up — so we did. Neither of us actually wanted that, but we thought it had to happen. The agony of leaving my best friend and boyfriend destroyed me. Not being in the same state made our communication ambiguous and challenging, we decided to “break up” (and by “break up” I mean we continued to talk as if we were together). 

Even in college, there would be certain things that I was too nervous to share with him. So what did I do? I didn’t share them. We were technically separated, but as corny as it sounds, in our hearts we couldn’t truly be. This relationship had always been a possessive one. We both wanted each other so much that we’d often step on each other’s toes about what the other was doing, who we were talking to, and so on. But why blame him? How can I blame him?

I was the reason we clashed so frequently. He would be angry or hurt from something I had done, and I wouldn’t take responsibility or even apologize for my actions. Was this an effect of my upbringing? Or my past relationships? Or my lack of awareness about how to treat someone who truly was the best of the best? It’s hard to tell what made us lash out so regularly for sometimes minor problems. I know now that most of these fights were because of my failure to recognize what I had done wrong.

I would lie to Ronny.

I lied about small things, big things — you name it. I lied to him not because I didn’t love him or because I didn’t want to be honest with him. I lied to him because I thought that the person I wanted the most might think differently of me if I told the truth. Or, maybe even worse, it would create a downward spiral of fighting off and on for days.

I was dishonest about things that other people might see as minuscule. Maybe some of those things were insignificant. Maybe other people would see that my lies weren’t intended to be menacing — I was only trying to protect my image. But, the bottom line was that no matter my reasoning, I was treating him disrespectfully, crookedly, and unlovingly.

I needed Ronny’s image of me to be pristine, but the way I went about that was immoral and unfair. He treated me like something irreplaceable, a prize that he was so lucky to have won, and I did not always reciprocate that. He wanted me and only me, and I wanted the same, but I didn’t prove that to him. I didn’t do my personal best to treat Ronny in a way that he deserved. And I wish that I had.

I wish I could go back and manipulate my actions (or lack thereof) so that he could trust me and believe me and not lose touch with me. I want so many things from and with him, but it’s too late for wishful thinking. 

So, what happens when it’s you? What happens when the only things you know of love are cheating and abuse and then you find yourself doing those exact things? It’s hard to acknowledge and accept that you treated someone in a way that, in previous relationships, ripped you to shreds from the inside out. Profuse apologies and broken promises never truly resolve these types of conflicts — dropping everything for that person usually doesn’t, either. And then, it’s over. “Ronny” gets too fed up with your bullshit and it’s done.

I wish that I had known then the solution for what to do when it is your fault. It’s tough to navigate the next steps to prove that, despite your bad behavior, you still love your partner.

Whether it’s been your fault before, you’ve never had a romantic partner, or it’s never been your fault — take a deep breath. Take a look at the situation at hand from both perspectives before resulting to denial or anger. Appreciate the good in the other person — ask yourself why you’ve done what you’ve done to them. Do you love them still? Are you losing interest? Is this a truly worthwhile relationship? If not, be honest about your emotions.

If none of those things are true, then change.

Don’t change your makeup or your outfit or every little aspect of your personality. Take criticism when they’re due and change. Change the things about yourself that make it so hard for you to maintain a healthy relationship. Change for the better — I wish I would have done that.

 

 

Photos (in order of appearance) by Jess Farran, Noelle Lucchesi, and Sam Avelar.Â