I fell in love in the middle of a global pandemic. Believe it or not, no that isn’t the plot for an upcoming Hallmark movie, but my actual life. For the longest time though, it did feel like I was living in a never-ending movie scene. Defying the odds by meeting someone outside of a pandemic setting whom I probably never would have crossed paths with long enough to form a connection. Despite all the negativity and scariness of the world, there was one person I could throw myself into. Someone I could use all my newly attained free time to focus on and resort any and all happiness to.
Then, as unexpectedly as Covid started, it began to end. The world was turning again, and our individual lives were too- leaving me lost and confused. Suddenly my life was returning, but where did that leave this new one that I had become accustomed to?
I’ve always considered myself a decently independent person, but at that moment I was not. I felt anxiety about being away from this person and terrified that this connection we built in a bubble could not survive outside of it. Most of all, I was terrified of this newfound attachment that I had with someone and feared that I could not have both myself and this person.
As I started reconnecting with others, I realized I was not alone. Whether it was those who had found love in a pandemic or others who continued to grow their love during it, one thing was clear: the pandemic changed the overall dynamic of relationships.
While I could go on for probably three different articles about how these relationship dynamics have shifted, that will have to be saved for another day. This article is about the overwhelming truth that yes things are changing, but no, that does not mean everything has to. Take it from a girl that had to learn it the hard way, loving someone else does not have to mean losing yourself.
As university students, we already face enough internal questioning about our independence. We are at a time in our lives where we are fully responsible for nearly everything about ourselves. From making our own choices in a grocery store, to gaining new personal characteristics based off our own likes and dislikes outside of family (or hometown) influences. One of the most common meanings of the phrase ‘university experience’ is to justify being single. In fact, you could probably find hundreds of articles on the internet explaining why being single in your 20s is the ‘right thing’ to do.
While I do not have the credentials to credit or discredit those articles, what I do have is experience of feeling the stigma and pressure that builds around having a relationship in your 20s. Almost as if you dare to have a relationship it has to be ‘real’ enough to be to make up for this so-called ‘experience’ being lost. If not being proved to others than to the internalized pressure you put on yourself. Take all that pre-established pressure and add it to the newfound pressure of making up for a year of experiences lost due to Covid and where do you find yourself? Questioning where your relationship fits now, and if spending less time on it than you did in a pandemic makes you a worse partner. In my case, it left me feeling as if I had to choose between myself and my relationship.
Truthfully, I think that Covid simply reinforced a juvenile-like bubble. The best way I can think about it is in comparison to high school relationships. If you’ve ever had a crush in high school, you know about the looming sense of dependability. If you couldn’t hang out after school, it was okay because that other person would be at school the next day. It created security; outside life never really seemed to matter all that much because you could depend on that person to be in the same place as you, same time, every day. Now, after a year and a half spent with not much to do other than focus on your significant other, that sense of security and dependability is taken away. The fears of ‘what now’ or ‘can we really do this’, begin to set in.
Realistically everyone will go through this scary feeling at some point. No matter how young or old you are when you first feel it; it separates childlike relationships from lasting ones. The realization that to make things work is to accept that having separation is part of the deal. Not to mould yourself into that other person or their life, but the opposite. Instead of searching to make yourselves as compatible as possible, it’s rather two individuals who choose to do life together, however that may look.
It’s a scary thought, especially after an uninterrupted year and a bit of bliss. I wish I had the magic words to make it feel less scary, but it’s in those moments where trust grows. Cheesy, I know, but not any less untrue. These moments of struggle may not be the most magical ones of your relationship, but they will be the most impactful. Learning to be authentically you alongside someone else serves as a whole new sense of self.
I know my break from the Covid bubble began earlier than most, and in that time I struggled. I had anxiety and questions of if we’d make it. I didn’t know how to fall back in love with myself and my own life without attaching this other person to every piece of it.
It was hard and it still can be at times, but overall, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned to re-love my own identity and accept that someone else can love having just a piece of my life without needing to be all of it. I’ve relearned to find comfort, strength and dependability in myself. Oh and no, I do not feel like I am missing out on the university experience.
There’s no rule book on love, or how to make it last. I am definitely no expert and will keep learning as I go along. The scary thing about love is the risk attached to it, nothing is guaranteed to work out. When it does it’s beautiful and special, but not a promise. I don’t think that’s sad, but it’s even more of a reason to invest in yourself first.
For my last cheesy testament of the day, I will end with this: the world is slowly coming back but will never be the same. Already, we have other areas in our lives being affected and changed as outcomes of the pandemic. Hold onto those close to you that make you feel good, including (most importantly) yourself. Accept the struggle that comes with that and recognize it for what it is and nothing more. Overall, you will be okay again but only you can reassure yourself that you’ll get there.