With you, there just wasn't enough light

When relationships lack the nutrients necessary for growth

Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ distinction between COMFORT and NURTURE:

“If you have a plant that is sick because you keep it in a dark closet, and you say soothing words to it, that is comfort. If you take it out of the closet, put it in the sun, give it something to drink, and then talk to it, that is nurture.”

I once dated a man I’ll call Rock. We met when I was nineteen and he was getting ready to graduate college. He was a friend of my sisters and was raised in a neighborhood nearby, although I didn’t know him growing up.

My immature teenaged self was impressed by Rock’s good looks and his dream of becoming a fire fighter. He was an athlete and had a body to match. He had a nice smile and a family who looked excellent on paper.

I was in college getting my degree in education with plans on becoming a high school dance teacher. I was a former cheerleader who also came from a nice family.

We seemed to be a good match.

Pretty early into our six years of (on and off) dating, we started our highly destructive routine of breaking up and getting back together.

I would find an inappropriate text message on his phone, break up.

He would promise me it was a mistake, he was going to change and that he loved me more than anything in the world. I was comforted by his promises and intoxicated by the closeness I felt when we he vowed that things were going to change.

Most of our fights weren’t about any one particular topic, and looking back I realize that although I thought I loved him, I actually didn’t like him very much—I loved the comfort of him.

Getting back together after every fight meant that I didn’t have to deal with the heartache of letting him go and considering meeting someone new. I didn’t have to face the uncertainty of my life without him, so I traded growth for comfort.

I knew deep down early on in our relationship that we weren’t a good match, but I was obsessed with getting my happily-ever-after, and he checked every box.

Except the one box that really matters- being with someone who naturally supports (and inspires) growth.

With him, I felt like I was always walking on pins and needles. I never knew when the next fight was going to come or what was going to piss him off next.

I was the plant in the dark closet and his promises to change and proclamations of undying love were my greatest comfort, although false nutrients.

I spent so much time in the chaos of our relationship that I barely had time to focus on much besides whatever drama we were in the midst of.

Fixing our relationship consumed me. We were spinning in circles together for years. From our first break-up to the last one, we didn’t grow an inch. If anything, we were both extremely depleted because of our time together.

All the while I had no idea I was trapped in the dark closet. I thought if I just tried a little harder or put more effort in—maybe this time things would be different.

But things were never different. Well, that’s not entirely true, things would get better for a little while and then return right back to baseline.

I won’t lie and say that one day I realized the err of my ways, broke up with him and immediately I was healthy again. We continued breaking up and getting back together, but with each time- I became increasingly weary from the emotional stress.

Until one day I realized that the comfort of him was literally killing me. Every area of my life was impacted by my refusal to outgrow the need for comfort. I was consistently depressed, abusing alcohol and overall miserable.

So finally, this shriveled little plant started inching my way out of the darkness.

I started reading books by Louise Hay and signed up for yoga. Rock was still in my life, but with bigger breaks in between. I dated other people on our longer breaks and so did he.

Our connection began to dilute when I started to grow. Yoga, mindfulness and learning to become more self-aware saved me from running back to him. The more I learned about healing myself, the less I wanted him around.

Paying attention to my thoughts and self-sabotaging patterns was certainly difficult and I felt a tremendous amount of shame as I started to get to know myself better. My early stages of growth were slow and painful but at least I wasn’t adding to the emotional damage anymore.

I didn’t know how to nourish myself yet, but I had stopped the bleeding.

The last time I saw him was after I returned home after completing my two week yoga teacher training in Costa Rica. I knew that I needed to see him and had the intention of seeing if there was anything left between us.

It had been nearly a year since we’d seen each other and I had grown so much.

When he came to my house, he sat on the couch and immediately I felt nothing. He proceeded to brag about some girl with whom he had a one-night stand and had a pregnancy scare. He was laughing about how freaked out he was.

All I could think was: “This is the guy I’ve been pining over for the past six years??? Get this bozo out of my house.”

I never saw him again.

And when he hired my best friend (who owns a bakery in my hometown) to make his wedding cake all I could think was, “better her than me.”

Over the next several years, I continued on my mission to better know and honor myself. I slowly started inching my way into the sunlight and looking for the most reliable source for water.

Finally letting go of Rock opened up a world of healing and adventure for me. I had to discover who I was outside the relationship and to explore, bit by bit, what exactly I needed in order to nurse myself back to health.

It’s been more than a decade since I released myself from the weight of Rock, and what I’ve learned is that the most valuable relationships in life are the ones that thrive naturally.

The ones you don’t have to fight for, the ones who don’t cause anguish-the ones that flow.

The people who want the best for you. Those who support your creativity and love you without requiring you to change.

Rock is most certainly a soil mate for me— he showed me everything that love isn’t. He taught me that if I surround myself with people who don’t love me unconditionally, I’ll never become who I’m meant to be.

He taught me to keep searching for what feeds my soul and to never settle for any relationship that makes me feel like I am in a room without light.

The most valuable relationships are naturally both comfortable and nurturing. Never settle for less than someone who makes you feel seen and supports your growth.

All the Best,

Ashley