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Recently, my mother and I got into one of our debates. She’s been letting me debate her since I was a child, back when I argued that Versace was spelled Versawchee and Virginia was spelled Vagina. I clearly struggled with V words. Instead of silencing me like some parents and teachers do when raising an opinionated girl child, she indulged me, probably enjoying every second of the “this little girl thinks she knows everything” show. God truly blessed me with a great mother. I’ve been lucky enough to find that same joy and cackling spirit when my goddaughter wants to spar over whatever her 15 year old brain can conjure up.
With age and a little life under my belt, our debates have moved from surface level spats about spelling to deeper conversations about human behavior and morals.
The Debate
Me: It’s not fair for a man to enter into a relationship broken, with addiction, or carrying unresolved trauma and then dump it all in a woman’s lap to carry. I wish they’d stop doing that. Women should not have to fix a man and traumatize themselves in the process. It’s not fair.
Mommy: A man needs a woman as his helpmate. It says so in the Bible. Men are weak and women help them become men. You’ve never been married. This is how it works.
She sends me every time with that line. When she starts a sentence with “you’ve never…” I know we’re right back to “this little girl thinks she knows everything” territory. And for anyone who grew up in church with Bible-toting parents, don’t they wear you out with a scripture reference for everything under the sun? I know it’s not just me. Can we have one simple conversation without a KJV reference sliding in? I’m not saying all the time, just sometimes. No? Can we at least come up out of 1611 and sprinkle in a little NIV? Not happening? You’re probably right. Alright then, let’s press on.
The Reflection
God, please forgive me, but can you Mucinex these human interpretations of the Bible that give poor behavior, inflicted suffering, or flat out abuse a free pass? Clear the saints’ sinuses so they can breathe in a little common sense and empathy.
I never again want to be in a relationship that leaves me traumatized because my partner entered it broken with no personal attempt at repair before or during the relationship. And I don’t want anyone else, friend or foe, to have to go through that either. The way the world heaps responsibility and blame on women is beyond strange. Is y’all ok? Is y’all cool?
I will never forget how people blamed Megan for being shot by a man she was intimate with. They were up in arms that the state pressed charges and that she had to testify in her own case. Called her a liar. Because she didn’t disclose who she was sleeping with? Since when does anyone owe the public a copy of their roster? Not to mention she was protecting him, like most women do, until she could not. And the passes some folks want to hand out to Robert Kelly and Sean Combs are ignorance at its finest. Tell me you hate women without telling me you hate women.
Now, I do believe that in relationships and marriages, women and men are called to support their partners. I just don’t believe that being a helpmate requires suffering as a prerequisite.
That debate made me think about who I was before I entered a relationship with someone who came in broken. I was in my early-ish twenties, and I loved that girl. She was kind, fun, social, fearless. She wasn’t closed off or apprehensive. She wasn’t even looking for love. She was flirting on BlackPlanet, catfishing on AOL Instant Messenger, gallivanting around Syracuse University like graduate school was undergrad all over again. She met a basketball player at a random party, didn’t think much of it, and six months later it was “will you be my girl?” in the Facebook DMs.
Somewhere along the way, that girl dwindled. She sank. She hid. She became a shell of herself. The relationship dragged her mentally and drained her spirit.
When the relationship ended, it took years to get back to level ground mentally. And no one should have to lose themselves for the sake of love or some twisted interpretation of biblical alignment. Help yourself by doing the work before you enter someone else’s life. Understand that you are not the only person in the relationship. How you move, what you say, how you treat someone, it all matters. People underestimate how fragile the mind can be. The strongest and most confident people did not get there by accident. They got there because they protect their peace like it’s gold.
It is not another person’s responsibility to fix you or unpack your trauma if they are not licensed to do so. They can support you while you do the work, but you have to choose healing for yourself. Prayer is powerful. Scripture can be grounding. But therapy is not a lack of faith. The same way you see a doctor for your body and still whisper a prayer in the waiting room, you can sit with a licensed professional and ask God to guide the conversation. Both can coexist.
Years have passed since that relationship. I have become fiercely protective of my mental space now. Maybe the saints would say I blocked my blessing once or twice. Maybe. But if I sense even a flicker of chaos or unhealed wounds being placed at my feet, I will not entertain it. I did not guard that early twenties version of myself well enough. I owe her better.
I’ve made a commitment to myself that I will not prioritize someone else’s healing over my own ever again. I can love you, support you, and pray for you, but I will not lose myself trying to save you. They say that’s why some of us geriatric millennials are single now. OH WELL!
These days, I actively seek the joy of peace and wholeness in all my relationships both romantic and platonic. And I choose these relationships with an open heart and eyes and with my head on a swivel.
I want the joy of peace and wholeness for you too, friend. You deserve.
Asé.
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