Fighting my fear of fighting

           

            I’m not sure when it started, a series of missteps, really. I used to be good at it. That sounds bad, but bare with me for a bit. I used to be unafraid of going toe to toe with anyone. Honestly- I liked the feeling I got when I knew early on I could win the fight. It became a chess game, and even my best opponents would eventually fall. Debates in class, quarrels with loved ones, I was all in. I really didn’t mind if they won now and again, but let’s be serious- I usually did.

            Then it got ugly. In my first long-term relationship, we were poorly matched for everything, especially fighting. They didn’t have the ability to withstand my words, and I was too young and stupid to realize the irrevocable damage I was causing. Even with all the things we did wrong in our relationship, (which if we tallied would take a great deal of paper and patience) this is where I feel I erred the most. I was caught up in feeling wronged and screwed over, emotionally abused and used, so I would cut them again and again with my words, poisoning any chance of us being friends after it all ended.  

            I learned so much from that one. So I created distance. Tried really hard to explore why I felt the need to exploit the weaknesses in the people I fought with. If I have a gift for remembering anything, I remember what makes people tick, what drives them mad.

            Of course I still fought with my family. I never allowed myself to be so petty with them, and we fought over things that could easily be discussed and resolved. But my romantic entanglements- I refused to really let them in, because I was so afraid of making the same mistakes I had made in the past. Just because I knew what to exploit in a fight, didn’t mean I should. I also couldn’t get over why I felt the need to win the fights in the first place. Did it really fucking matter?

            Then usher in my next big committed relationship. I promised myself I’d be better, do better. I would be an active listener, and not pick fights. I don’t regret many things in this life, but the cowardly stance I took in that relationship is something I can never be proud of.

            They didn’t like to fight, at all. So if we ever did fight, they completely shut down. We dated at a distance, so all we had a great deal of the time was technology to communicate through. They would completely shut me out. I wouldn’t hear from them for days, and if I tried to breach the silence I was told in no uncertain terms that the silence would continue. I had to wait.

            I realize now it was such a manipulative power play. They controlled the communication between us, and never left me in doubt who was the alpha in the relationship. My mistake was ever giving them all that power in the first place. If I had the balls to tell them what I thought of their games, we would have run our course so much sooner, and I wouldn’t have allowed the damage caused by loving someone I had no business falling in love with. The cliché love is blind can be such a bitch.

            After that relationship ended, and I licked my wounds, I completely lost the will to fight. I had gone to either side of the spectrum, and realized I was making all the wrong moves. So I stopped fighting. Not the best choice either, but I had to stop and breathe. I didn’t want to keep making the same mistakes; I wanted to learn from it all.

            It helped in ways, hindered in others. I chose my words more wisely, tried not to wait until I got to a point where I felt like I needed to be heated, or yell. I was still afraid though; what if the way I fought was what drove my loved ones away? The whole next year I asked advice, tried to go back and learn, and be more open to other ways of communicating.

            I’ve started dating again; (I don’t count anything I did within the same year as my break up. That wasn’t dating- that was filling time. Yep- just as bad as it sounds). Here I am, meeting new people and feeling this anxiety well up inside of me anytime I can feel a fight coming on. I have to remind myself to not see red, not to go for the low blow. To actively listen, and remain respectful. I’m learning from my mistakes. Some think people can’t change, and I whole-heartedly disagree. I’ve changed. If I meet someone now who can’t stand up for themselves, or refuses to fight, I move on. I know one of these days I’ll meet someone who gets it- fighting is not the end of the world, and if anything it means we care more.