Fight vs. Flight

Something fascinating happened two years ago: I left an insecure, conniving, unfaithful guy, that I made the mistake of calling my boyfriend for five arduous years. I finally learned how to cut my loses and walk away. I kept thinking it was a war between me and the “other woman” – until I realized what it was that I was truly fighting for. I was struggling to be with a guy that would have essentially promised a lifelong of suspicion, dishonor, and resentment. And it wasn’t until I finally walked away far enough that I realized what a fool I had been to try to win a losing battle. And it wasn’t until today that I realized what a fool I had been to think that I actually lost.

What it all boils down to is a simple concept I learned in psychology class. In a threatening situation, your mind and body must decide between combating the obstacle and averting it altogether. For instance, let’s say you’re minding your own business and taking a stroll in the park, and a man suddenly creeps up from behind to assault you. Presuming your lack of preparedness or level of expertise in martial arts, your initial instinct would be to run. You can fight the perpetrator or you can fleet from the danger.

In my case, I did both. My ex made an assault on my trust, family, and feelings. But I chose to fight it. How naïve I was. It wasn’t until I fled that mock of a relationship that I finally felt safe – safe from being made a fool and being hurt… over and over again. Fast forward to the present: He’s marrying the girl he habitually lied to, repeatedly cheated on, and continues to disrespect by attempting to correspond with me. He’s venturing into a lifelong commitment when the only thing he’s ever been able to commit to is covering his ass. So when I still see his number on my caller ID, or see his name in my inbox, or see his picture with his fiancé, I’m not reminded of the war injuries – instead, I thank God that I had enough sense to realize that the victory wasn’t worth the fight.