The secret of emotional stamina

And other skills acquired by 30.

Having a birthday on Valentine’s is an odd event in itself, especially as a single person. Growing up, I never really minded. I got candy and flowers and homemade valentines like everyone else. As an adult, it’s been easy to avoid with birthday plans and posts to keep me busy. Actually, the only time I’ve ever had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, he took me to Fazoli’s for dinner. So truth be told, romance hasn’t ever made the top of my list.

Still, it’s something that screams at me every year, even if ever so faintly. It’s still top of mind when another year comes and goes without a partner, a ring, or a shared pet or set of passwords. It’s especially obvious to me this year as I entered a new decade. Not because I’m missing out on something that I should have already. But because I’ve grown into a new type of strength I wasn’t set on securing.

If you’ve watched the show How I Met Your Mother, you might remember a scene in the final season where Ted meets the gang at the bar one final time before marrying the show’s namesake. Before the big day, Lily makes a toast, recounting eight seasons worth of Ted’s dating experience, and calling him “a man with more emotional endurance” than anyone she’s ever known.

I first watch that episode all the way back in my first year of college, and for some reason that phrase always stuck with me. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe because I was intrigued by the new concept at the age of 19. Maybe because I hoped I would never have to develop such a skill. But even then, there seemed to be both a far-off and familiar friendship with this phrase that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. Fast forward ten years, and it’s still top of mind.

No matter what you thought of the How I Met Your Mother finale (I liked it, sue me), I often think back to Ted as I’ve endured my own (what feels like) eight seasons of emotional stamina. Over the past decade, I think back to the lives I imagined and the one I actually lived. I’m far happier and healthier than I could’ve hoped for, and for that, I’m thankful. But I’ve endured a lot more than I expected, walking through the wringer while wanting to be "one and done” when it came to dating.

I think back to all the relationships I heartily tried and failed. All the people I’ve paired myself with (mentally) that didn’t get the memo. All “The One’s” that came into periphery and quickly faded away, and all the heart strings pulled that snapped under pressure.

I think back to Banjo Boy. Frat Guy. Twitter Date and TikTok Dude. I think of camp crushes and kind-hearted set ups and a few firemen I’ve since lost touch with. There are men I’ve called bad names in anger, and men who made my hair fall out (literally) from anxiety. Men who helped improve my view of nontoxic masculinity, and those who threw it straight into the toilet.

In the last decade alone, I went on far more dates than I would’ve wanted, waited out situationships longer than I needed, logged onto more dating apps that I dreaded, and had my heart broken more than I’d care to recount.

If “emotional endurance” doesn’t cover the last decade, I’m not sure what to call it. But still, as proud as I am, there’s an unsettling feeling: a grief in a skill I didn’t seek out myself.

Truth be told, I envy those who had it “easy” from this side of things. I’m mad at everyone who met the love of their life right after high school or camp or college. Those who didn’t have to go on any number of hideous Hinge dates or have their dating apps become hat tricks for couple friends at parties. I’m jealous of those who didn’t have to heave their hopes up in the air, only to watch them fall to earth headfirst, or those who never got rejected by someone they saw forever with.

I wish I didn’t take it so seriously. Or personally. Or spiritually. I wish I didn’t care, or shook it off easier. Because the reality is I don’t think there’s a science to it. Some people really do stumble upon the love of their lives earlier and easier, I’m sure. Just as sure as I am some people piece love together, or place it safe, or even settle.

Still, dating has never been easy for me. And most people I know with this stamina didn’t set out to gain this strength. They didn’t sign up to train in emotional endurance, with a winding run with no true end in sight. Not to mention the compounded weight as the years go on. Emotional baggage? You bring it. Emotional asthma? You develop it. Even in the midst of heartbreak, you’re running a race it seems you didn’t sign up for. And whether you’re a great athlete or gasping for air, you have to run it all the same.

I went on a date recently, and while it wasn’t a match, a loved one told me “At least you’re putting yourself out there!”

“Yes, but I’m not unaffected,” I said, trying to explain what it felt like to have to keep going up to pitch time after time, only to strike out. It’s not that I’m either in the game or not. It’s that I’m expending myself to do so or saving my energy. Because it takes time to try. It takes effort to aim. It takes hope to swing. The game leaves you wearier and more worn than before. I’m not saying it’s not worth it. I’m just saying it takes a toll.

I don’t have much wisdom on shaping this skill set as much as I wanted to call out its existence. Actually, I famously hate running (and endurance sport at that). So there might be people more pleasant and practiced to call.

But I also have a deep awareness that this is the reality for so many. As I walked into church the Sunday after Valentine’s Day, I couldn’t help but think of the emotional stamina surrounding me. Spanning age and status and seasons of life, I couldn’t help but notice how many people in our congregation were climbing, batting, running their race with far more strength and emotional stamina than they set out to summon. Not only for those who are single, but for those who are married and trying to keep it together. Those who feel dating disappoint them. Those who are divorced or widowed or weary, facing a life that didn’t go as planned.

We’re all marked by the scars of the game, I’m sure of that. But even so, I’m reminded there’s even more stamina keeping us going. Even if that skill developed secretly somewhere along the way.

Photo by Filip Mroz on Unsplash