I told you I wasn’t perfect.
You seemed like you understood me at the time. Acted like I was saying something obvious.
But later, you’d end up so betrayed by the fact that I was just a normal person. Maybe one with a few good qualities but just as flawed as the rest.
When you realized I wasn’t just being humble when I outlined my flaws. That I wasn’t just spinning a good yarn when I talked about my trauma and how I have good days and bad days.
When I let you know what the hard parts are of dating me.
You seemed like you understood.
And yet you still pedestalled me.
I get it, on a certain level. Before I dated you, I had a habit of doing the same thing with the people I loved. Decided that they were perfect no matter what they said. Or at least above me.
After you, I didn’t make that mistake again. You were one of the most educational relationships I ever had. It wasn’t what either of us was looking for, but you had so many of the same flaws that other people had complained about for years, only regarding me. And before we dated, I just didn’t get it.
But now I do. And I’ll never forget. It’s made me considerably more patient with other people when it comes to those same qualities in me.
Sometimes I’ll catch myself even now going into those old patterns. And I’ll reverse course. I’ll remember how it felt on the other side, and I’ll do anything I can to keep from going there again. I’ll take down the pedestal and let the other person just be. I’ll love them as they are, not as some idealized version of them that they’ll never live up to.