Over the weekend, my boyfriend and I celebrated our sixth month anniversary. We spent both Saturday and Sunday relaxing, lounging, and, for him, playing World of Warcraft, and for me, reading, writing, and watching season one of The Punisher. We cuddled, we ate junk food, and we enjoyed each other’s company. It was a lovely weekend.

Since then, I have been overwhelmed by how much I love him, and how much he loves me. I’ve never been in a healthy relationship before. I’ve known what healthy relationships are supposed to look like, and I’ve seen firsthand how damaging unhealthy relationships are, but I’ve never actually been in a healthy relationship before. I don’t think my ex knew what a healthy relationship was. Or maybe he thought it was my responsibility to make the relationship healthy. I also dated a couple of people who knew what to say to make it sound like the relationship was healthy, when really it was extremely toxic. One guy I dated earlier this year was even a therapist and knew all the right things to say, though he didn’t ever actually act on them.

I’ve learned throughout my life that most people think it’s enough to just say the right thing. But respecting and enforcing boundaries requires actions, they require self-reflection, they require a willingness to be held accountable. And when you aren’t willing to be held accountable or to self-reflect, then your relationships will be toxic. Words are not enough. Even understanding how to maintain healthy relationships isn’t enough. We actually have to do the work.

And I have worked my ass off last year and this year to heal, to grow, to build my life into what I want it to be. I’ve taken ownership of my toxic traits, my insecurities, my personal weaknesses, and I’ve worked to better myself. A lot of these issues stem from trauma, a lot of trauma. The trauma isn’t, and never was, my fault. But making sure I don’t perpetuate trauma in my own life and in the lives of the people around me is absolutely my responsibility. Last year around this time, I found myself at a crossroads. I could wallow in my trauma, allow it to consume my life, dictate my choices, and always be a victim of it, or I could try to heal, walk away from the habits and the attitudes that chained me to grief, loss, and heartache. I remember asking myself, where do I want to be in a year from now? Or three years from now?

It’s hard to imagine any future when the life you’ve fought for years to hold onto finally slithers away. I looked forward and I saw myself not as I was then, but as I hoped I could be some day: happy. Not necessarily in love or in a relationship, but happy in my own self. I had no idea how to get there, or even if I would get there, but I knew that I had to choose to go after that happiness. I had lost the life I wanted to have with my ex, but I was building a new life for myself, one unbeholden to anyone else’s expectations for me, and I knew there was power in that.

So I got into therapy. I started journaling. I started reading books on boundaries and how to build a fulfilling life. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and I read books and I made goals for myself and I started working out and changing up my habits. Things didn’t feel different, even as the months went by. 2020 came around and I faced heartbreak and lost a dating relationship I was excited by. I remember inside that hurt and disappointment, I asked myself what the point of all the work on myself was if no one was going to stick around long enough to even notice how hard I was fighting to rise above the trauma of my past?

But see, that’s the magic of healing. It takes time. And not everyone is going to see the work you do, or understand it, or appreciate it. Hell, I didn’t see any changes in myself until about two months ago. From November 2019 until about May of 2020, I dated three people I was super into. One of them, I fell in love with and he absolutely broke my heart. I remember going from each disappointment to the next, unsure if I was doing anything wrong (they all told me I wasn’t…gave me the whole, “It’s not you, it’s me” speech), or if I was giving off some kind of desperate vibe they weren’t telling me about. Most of the time, I was able to keep a somewhat positive outlook. I told myself that the right person would see the value I bring to a relationship and stick around. But sometimes I would hit the bottom of depression and wonder if I was ever going to find someone who appreciated me the way I knew I deserved to be appreciated.

And then my now boyfriend came along. Six months later, we’re living together. We’re in love. I feel like he understands me better than anyone ever has. And now, I can see the difference in myself. It’s hard to see growth and change when we’re in the midst of challenges. But now, in a place where I feel like I’m thriving for the first time in years, I can look back over all of these events and I can see the healing, the growth, the undoing of trauma from inside of me.

Yesterday my boyfriend asked me if I felt loved and cared for and the answer was, of course, yes because he does such a great job of being there for me. Then he asked, “What are you going to poetry about after I take away all the trauma and pain?” And my heart burst. I do not and never have expected him to heal me, and even now, I don’t expect that of him. Healing from my trauma is my work to do and no one else’s responsibility. My battles are my own to fight. But just knowing that he loves me so much, he actually wants to help me heal, was a piece of magic I didn’t know I needed until he said the words. All I wanted in my marriage was for my ex to care enough about me to stop making me suffer. By the end, I didn’t even expect him to make up for the damage he’d caused, I just wanted him to stop damaging me further. I never imagined anyone could love me so much they wanted to help me heal. No one has loved me like that before.

Being with him has helped me heal. I’m not constantly fighting to be heard and seen. I’m not constantly going up against someone else’s narrative of me. I’m not silencing myself just to keep the peace and pretend I belong. For the first time in a really long time, I’m seen. I’m heard. I’m held. I’m loved. I’m appreciated. I actually feel protected. Safe, even. And because I’ve been healing, I’m not as scared as I once was.

And that’s where the magic resides: in the power of self-actualization.