Over 99!

by Cecilie Roaldset

Last year, I was unable to reach 100 points in my bowling game. I would come close—usually 99 or less—but I never felt like I was fulfilling my potential. Since then, my scores have greatly improved, averaging 120, and once I even hit 177! I attribute this to my greater mental clarity. Bowling more than 99 means I am finally moving on from a toxic relationship that nearly destroyed me.

I spent two years of my life on a balance beam relationship that I justified from any angle I could. I call this the excuse part of my 20s: If anything was maladjusted in my dysfunctional relationship, I made an excuse for it. For instance, I was unable to have a girls’ night out— even to see one of my friends’ bands play—because of my partner’s jealousy. I lost my own identity by catering to his suspicion, all the while convincing myself that he would stop being jealous if I would just stay home. However, excusing this behavior served no purpose because both my partner and the relationship continued to be unhealthy.

Making excuses for him was easy; whenever my self-esteem took a nosedive, I blamed it on him rather than looking at how unhealthy the relationship had become. My excuses for his berating remarks began to peel away my self-esteem the way painters chip away old paint. This was my way of not seeing how much of myself I was losing. Things changed when I knew without a doubt that he was cheating on me when he was traveling. The intensity of his betrayal made me feel like an object rather than a person, and I found myself no longer able to make excuses.

It’s been a long year of recovery since then, but I started to see what I wasn’t doing while I was with him, and how I was squelched and demeaned by the relationship. Abusive behavior is easy to excuse because compromising oneself for the abuser is what is often expected. I essentially catered to his behavior by calling it "love." But love doesn't feel like a cactus. It doesn't shut you away from your friends, pick fights into the wee hours of the morning, or make you feel guilty for seeing people who care about you. Love is the opposite of all that.

The funny thing is that I had learned this lesson once before. When I was in high school, I participated in Outward Bound instead of going to gym class. I had grown up hiking and fishing, so I didn’t think a week of hiking a small section of the Appalachian Trail would be that tough. Turns out it was one of the hardest—and best—hikes I have ever done that side of the Mississippi.

I won't say that it was fun every night to sleep under a tarp in Connecticut in April; but learning what my body is capable of was amazing. I went spelunking, canoed a class IV river, and covered 30 miles in three days. I faced these challenges head-on, and they brought change to me in a significant way. But had I known beforehand how hard it would be, or how tired and muddy I would become, I would have bombarded my parents with excuses for why I shouldn’t go.

Discovering my own potential and self-worth has made it possible for me to recognize red flags when they appear in my life, such as when I begin to make excuses for toxic behavior. Now when I start using excuses, I question why I am doing so. Is there something in my life that I need to look at more closely? With my new outlook, I have unearthed a stronger, more confident self. I remember that challenges are meant to change and teach us. Sometimes taking the corner of the trail and seeing how far up you have come is the best gift there is.

In the last year Cecilie has created a new perspective on herself and her environment; she writes poetry and can be found at open mic events throughout the city. She started her own company this summer and is currently doing project management and professional organizing.