Contemplating Contempt: An Essay

The Blurring Lines of Self-Respect and Erasure

The holidays are supposed to be a time of respite and time with loved ones, but this year feels a little bit different. I’ve been candid about my recent split, and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an inherent dread in approaching the holidays without the people, traditions, and things you’ve grown accustomed to. This would have been our fourth Christmas together.

Speaking so openly about heartbreak, betrayal, and sadness has been a source of catharsis and processing for me. In this essay, which will likely be my final on my ill-fated romance, I want to talk about leaning into emotions we often deny ourselves.

Silence is not an Armstice

There’s no way to sugarcoat the deliberate cruelty of my break-up: after three years, I was blindsided with a rogue break-up text, given no explanation, and have been entirely ghosted since. I don’t intend to tier rank the execution of break-ups, but I can think of very few things more intentionally disorienting and callous than this. I respectfully reached out for clarity twice and have been ignored. Better now than being left at the altar someday, I guess.

During my time of reflection, my default perspective was one of charity and simplicity. Perhaps it was denial, but I didn’t want to frame every recent decision my ex had made as though it were entirely rooted in malice. To have someone change so drastically with no forewarning meant my mind spent hours seeking a place of attribution. Perhaps it was a mental health crisis leading to a short-lived ‘break’ in our relationship that could ultimately be salvaged. Maybe it was cold feet coming from a person who struggled to communicate and articulate their feelings, and who just needed time to reach out. Alternatively, it was the bad influence of a new friend group and his misguided expectations for the future. Regardless, the reason is irrelevant in the shadow of the aftermath.

Now that I have a bit more clarity and distance from the situation, I can see that two things exist in tandem:

1. These actions were premeditated, deliberate, and cowardly. There were no accidents.

2. Denial is the weakest form of self-protection.

In being transparent about my break-up, I’ve spent time meticulously editing my essays to ensure I hold my ex accountable without invalidating the years we spent together or his positive qualities. I viewed that as a universal, basic respect for another person I had invested so much in. I, unfortunately, was not afforded the same level of respect in virtually any capacity. I was ignored in my attempts for closure, bombarded with a smear campaign on his social media, and found out through the grapevine that there were weeks, if not months, of deliberate lies and misdirections leading up to this decision.

The way we treat our romantic partner says a lot about us. A romantic partner is someone we express love to and care for with a string of continued, deliberate actions. We invite them into our lives and offer them some of our most personal, vulnerable moments. How we treat them is a reflection of how we treat others in isolation, where nobody else can hold us accountable. It is a microcosm of our other relationships and exposes some of the qualities we’d rather shy away from.

In trying to speak about this experience, it gets increasingly difficult to be transparent while also speaking positively about a person who, by all accounts, has not earned it. In trying to make sense of everything, I’ve realised so much of this perspective is rooted in self-protection and my inability to lean into my anger. Acknowledging the plethora of positive attributes my ex had helped reinforce that my perspective of him and our relationship was not wholly misguided. It was a weak form of self-denial that I relied on for too long to ignore the obvious: respect and love were not as bi-directional as they were claimed to be in this relationship. That hurts, but ultimately has nothing to do with me and everything to do with someone else.

There is an inherent futility in constructing a narrative that the other party will deny and recontextualise at their own discretion, but I’m at peace with that. I’ve found liberation where anxiety used to exist. It’s out of my hands now.

The Interplay of Anger & Self-Respect

Anger is admittedly an emotion that does not come easily to me. There are very few situations in my life that have necessitated me to wholly embrace it; I often experience parallel emotions like irritation, frustration, or resentment, but I am rarely required to sit with seething rage. My friends and therapist have echoed the same thing — in times like these, it’s important we lean into our anger. I now realise that I denied myself of this for too long, be it in this situation or others.

I seldom view anger as a productive or worthwhile emotion to sit with. My anger will not change this situation, nor will it bring me any form of karmic justice. But neither will my sadness, nor my sugarcoating of recent events. Acceptance is an entirely separate journey of its own, and being angry does not necessarily imply that the so-called ‘high road’ is not being taken. Anger is a source of healing, too.

I’ll be upfront and admit it: yes, I’m heartbroken. But I’m mostly angry. No action or decision I made over the last 3 years necessitated the level of malicious cruelty nor the disregard I experienced. No excuse, be it age or immaturity, can be made for a grown man who found himself repeatedly incapable of basic communication, honesty, and faithfulness to his partner of 3 years. How we navigate the world eventually catches up with us.

Personally? I’m incapable of navigating the world without Joan Didion, and so this week I found myself re-reading her 1968 essay Self-respect: Its Source, Its Power. She speaks a lot about character and the relationship we foster with ourselves:

To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves--there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.

In my case, sitting with my anger and openly admitting it is a driving emotion in my healing journey is a form of self-respect. Despite everything, I’m proud of myself for showing up to a relationship for three years with transparency, accountability, and intention. It’s easy to view the last three years as futile or meaningless, given how it ended, but ultimately, it reminds me of the growth and emotional maturity I’ve achieved.

My Parasocial Relationship with Lily Allen

Lily Allen’s recent album West End Girl speaks about the dissolution of her marriage to David Harbour. I’ll admit I didn’t like the album at first, but with recent events, it is hitting close to home. In the lyrics, she explores both the infidelity and betrayal of her husband, but also how their split changed her relationship with herself. How timely.

She doesn’t fault herself for his actions, but does fault herself for how she let her boundaries be eroded and denied herself respect. It is raw, candid, and exactly what I needed to hear right now. To forgive, to acquiesce, or to deny myself of anger in reaction to this situation is not fair to myself. I guess it only took listening to this album on loop for 12 days to realise that - thanks Lily xx.

While I am incredibly fortunate to have a massive amount of support to lean on in these times, the bulk of navigating this situation depends on me. Whether it was a warranted or expected break-up is irrelevant, and it’s a catalyst for me to depend on myself and extend my comfort zone. It’s the closing of one chapter and the starting of another, which is admittedly both daunting and relieving.

If you’ve read this far, I want to extend a big thank you. I know sharing these personal, vulnerable thoughts is not the reason you’d typically find yourself here, but we will get back to books soon, I promise. There was no book I could think of that encapsulated how I was feeling, and so I felt compelled to write my own words to make sense of things.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, my only platitude I can offer is that there is nothing callous or immature about me being bitter in reaction to betrayal. Unfortunately, people in life will show us their true colours and offer arbitrary cruelty we don’t deserve. But the best thing we can offer ourselves is the space to grieve, heal, and move forward.