In all the moments, days and years of my life I have been codependently attached to a man.
Well at first it was boys.
Absolutely balls to the wall obsessed with Nick Karl, Chad, Denny, Kellan McNally, Kyle Ellsworth and Sam Moore.
Then there was Jeff Terrell… the most dreamy crush I’ve ever had.
This was the most rom-com slow-motion wind machine type of shit you could imagine - cue the K-Ci and JoJo music, it was the 90’s after all. I thought about him endlessly and lived for the fleeting moments when we would cross paths in the hallway. But would I talk to him? Absolutely not. I’m not crazy! My body would shut down. I was like a frenzied woman during the peak of Beatlemania. My friends helped fuel the fire of my heart and do my dirty work by dutifully stealing used napkins and lollipop sticks, which I would snatch from them with a frantic intensity, much like Gollum clutching his precious ring. These items were carefully added to my makeshift altar in the closet, a weird yet comforting shrine dedicated to my all-consuming infatuation.
Eventually, I mustered up the courage to ask him to dance with me at our Middle School formal and it was the most euphoric moment of my young life. His hands were on my body! His breath was on my neck!! HOLY SHIT!
But I couldn’t just revel in the glory, I needed more.
I went from zero (literally avoiding speaking to him at all costs) to 100 - asking him to be my boyfriend, all within the same 4 minutes. I’m not sure why this was my tactic but it of course, didn’t work. This was JEFF TERRELL we’re talking about, he had a level head on his shoulders. He was a solid, grounded, 7th Heaven style beautiful good boy. He responded by finishing the dance and replying sweetly, “I can’t go out with you because I don’t even know you”.
And so…I did what any logical person would do.
I spent the entire weekend crafting and rewriting a perfect note filled with my personal history, a list of favorites, family stories and 12 year old anecdotes - it went on and on and on for 13-15-17 pages, I can’t remember. I handed it to him on Monday morning and confidently said, “Here! Get to know me!” And wouldn’t you know it, my colorful lengthy love note sealed the deal. He said YES!! Christen and Jeff were finally official.
My obsession, however, did not stop there.
I started going to church because he did, I went to a youth group, I bought a Bible. His sweet, blonde-haired, blue-eyed angelic God loving face was like a radiant warm glowing light, and I was drawn to him like a psychotic moth to a flame. My entire inner life revolved around him. And did I mention, he was the absolute sweetest boy. He bought me a gold heart necklace, our first kiss was in the middle of a rainstorm and he would respond to my endless love notes every single day. There was a reason I would sign my new name “Christen Terrell” in all my notebooks, on the binding of required reading and on any surface I could find. I wrote poetry about him, I went to his basketball games and envied his sisters because they got to share a bathroom with him. It is pretty fair to say that he ignited my heart into a flaming fire of love, desire and insatiable longing. I remember the first time I went inside his house, it felt like a museum. I took in every single detail with awe and reverence and then instantly began shaping an idea of what our combined lives would look like when we had our own home with our own babies, where he would mow the lawn and I’d make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.
It was a magical time.
My entire life has looked this way. The name of the boy/man has changed but the energy output has been roughly the same. Sure I’ve progressed towards healthier and healthier versions with each and every heartbreak but the consensus is I have a habit of spending far too much time and energy concerned with the needs of a man - all in a misguided effort to be loved back.
Here’s the good news: I’ve undergone a significant internal shift and am now experiencing the world in a completely new way. I’m embracing many firsts as I turn my focus inward rather than exclusively outward. For the first time since before I was ten, I am living my life for myself. There is no man at the center of my desires, and no pressure to fix, shape, or guide someone else’s life. My life is truly my own.
As one might expect, this has been a HUGE adjustment and it has taken A LOT of time to get here. But the freedom I feel is worth it.
And at the end of the day, I love who I have been to these men. I am proud of how devoted I can be, the way that show up in partnership and all that we have created together over the many many years.
The moral of the story?
I love loving people.
I’m good at it.
And I am oh so excited to finally be on the receiving end of such a strong and passionate heart.