The hardest part wasn't that Carl had opinions. It was how often I stopped saying mine.
By this point in my relationship with Carl, I was confused.
Not because everything was bad.
Honestly?
That probably would have made things easier.
I was confused because so much of it was good.
I really liked being Carl's girlfriend.
He made me laugh.
We could talk about faith together.
I thought it was attractive when we'd be sitting in church and I'd look over and see him taking notes. There was something about seeing a guy genuinely engaged in learning about the gospel that mattered to me.
We could go to the temple together.
We could be active together.
We could try new things.
Sometimes we'd do karaoke, and even though singing definitely wasn't Carl's thing, I could get up there and sing my little heart out 😂 and he seemed to genuinely enjoy watching me do something I loved.
He also seemed excited to introduce me to people.
There was something about that that made me feel...
chosen.
Seen.
Like he was happy I was his girlfriend.
And I liked that feeling.
There were nights when we'd laugh and have a genuinely great time together, and I'd go home thinking:
See?
We're good.
Those moments mattered.
Because every time I started wondering whether something wasn't right...
we'd have another really good day.
And suddenly all my concerns felt farther away again.
That's what I don't want to lose when I tell this story.
I wasn't staying in a relationship where I was miserable every day.
I was staying in a relationship I genuinely enjoyed...while also becoming increasingly confused by the parts I didn't.
And sitting underneath all of it was that first impression:
He's on your wavelength.
It seemed to fit.
Look at our faith.
Look at the things we had in common.
Look at the things I admired about him.
Look at the way I felt when he seemed proud to introduce me as his girlfriend.
Of course I wanted this to work.
And yet...
there was another side of the relationship I couldn't quite make fit with that picture.
There were things I had learned about Carl shortly after becoming his girlfriend that still bothered me.
There were little interactions that kept leaving me with that familiar:
Hmm...interesting. 🤔
And then there was the biggest thing of all.
I had already had that clear thought:
You need to end this relationship.
I hadn't.
I had stayed.
So now I was trying to understand how both versions of my relationship could possibly be true.
How could I be this happy with someone sometimes...
and still have this feeling that I shouldn't be with him?
How could Carl have so many qualities I genuinely wanted...
and still have things that concerned me?
How could I feel:
He's on your wavelength
and also:
You need to end this relationship?
Was I expecting too much?
Was I focusing too much on little things?
Was I scared?
Was I overthinking?
Or was this simply what happened when you got past the cute beginning of a relationship and realized:
Oh. This person is an actual human being with flaws. 😂
I didn't know.
But I knew what I wanted the answer to be.
I wanted Carl.
And that made everything much harder to see clearly.
I Had Already Made the List
Here's the part that makes me shake my head a little looking back.
I had actually tried to prepare myself for this exact problem.
Before Carl ever came along, I had spent time thinking seriously about what I wanted in a relationship.
I had read Date or Soul Mate? by Neil Clark Warren, and one of the exercises had you identify your 10 Must-Haves and 10 Cannots.
Basically:
What are the things you genuinely NEED in a relationship?
And what are the things you know you CANNOT build the kind of relationship you want around?
[DATING TOOLBOX LINK: My 10 Must-Haves & 10 Cannots Exercise →]
And no, this wasn't:
Must be tall.
Must play guitar.
Must look suspiciously good in flannel. 😂
These were the deeper things.
Character.
Faith.
Values.
The kind of marriage I wanted.
The kind of family I wanted to build.
Kindness mattered to me.
Honesty mattered to me.
Having a strong personal relationship with God mattered to me.
Having a shared vision for life mattered to me.
The whole point was to think through those things before I became emotionally attached to someone.
Very smart.
Because Alaina-with-a-book-and-a-pen could be pretty logical.
Alaina-with-a-boyfriend-she-really-liked?
Apparently we needed to reopen negotiations. 😂
Because shortly after Carl and I became official, I learned things about him that landed directly on the 10 Cannots portion of my list.
And that's important.
These weren't things I decided were dealbreakers because Carl annoyed me.
They weren't little quirks.
They weren't:
He doesn't like Studio Ghibli, therefore we have no future. 😂
Although...there IS a story behind Carl and Studio Ghibli. 😬😂
[MINI STORY LINK: The Studio Ghibli Incident →]
But that wasn't a dealbreaker.
These were things I had already decided mattered before I knew Carl.
So theoretically...
this should have been pretty straightforward.
I had made the list.
Something landed on the Cannot side.
There's my information.
Except now there was a person attached to it.
A person who made me laugh.
A person I went to church and the temple with.
A person who seemed excited to introduce me to people.
A person I was attracted to.
A person who had SO many qualities I had been hoping to find.
A person I really, really liked.
And suddenly I wasn't looking at a list anymore.
I was looking at Carl.
That changed everything.
Instead of:
I already decided this matters.
I started asking:
Okay...but does it matter ENOUGH?
Maybe people grow.
Maybe relationships require flexibility.
Maybe I had been too rigid when I made my list.
Maybe some things I thought were dealbreakers weren't really dealbreakers once I met someone I cared about.
And reevaluating something isn't automatically bad.
People aren't checklists.
No one is going to walk into my life and perfectly match every little thing I imagined.
But looking back, I can see an important difference.
I wasn't thoughtfully reevaluating my list because I had learned something new.
I was reevaluating it because I didn't like what it was telling me.
Every time a concern resurfaced, I could find something good to put beside it.
And the good was real.
That was what made this so confusing.
The problem wasn't that I imagined Carl's good qualities.
The problem was that I started using them as evidence that the other things shouldn't matter.
And no matter how many good things I stacked on the other side...
something in me still wasn't settled.
Meanwhile...Carl Was Still Correcting Me
And then there were the corrections.
By now, I had noticed the pattern.
Something while I was driving.
A random fact.
How I did something.
Something I said.
Carl usually had a reason.
That was what made this SO easy for me to dismiss.
Sometimes he genuinely knew more about something than I did.
Sometimes his way probably was more efficient.
Sometimes...
he was technically right.
And I like learning.
So what exactly was my problem?
That's what I kept wondering.
Even dancing—something I had loved and felt confident doing long before Carl—eventually became one of those moments where I found myself thinking:
Wait...why does this suddenly feel different when dancing with him?
[MINI STORY LINK: I Couldn't Wait to Dance With My Boyfriend...Until 😬💃 →]
If I pulled each correction out individually, though, they sounded almost ridiculous.
My boyfriend told me something I didn't know.
Okay?
My boyfriend gave me advice.
Call the authorities. 😂
It wasn't any one correction.
It was how I was starting to feel inside the pattern.
Sometimes I didn't feel like Carl and I were two people bringing different strengths into the relationship.
Sometimes...
I felt like I was the one who kept needing to be taught.
But even that was difficult for me to admit.
Because if Carl wasn't intentionally trying to make me feel small...
was I allowed to feel small?
If he was trying to help...
shouldn't I appreciate the help?
If he was technically right...
what exactly was I allowed to be bothered by?
I kept thinking I needed to prove Carl had done something objectively wrong before my feelings were allowed to count.
And because I couldn't always prove that...
I kept dismissing them.
Until my mom accidentally called me out.
“But Carl Corrects You All the Time...”
The funny thing is, the moment that finally cracked something open for me had almost nothing to do with Carl.
My sister corrected me about something.
I don't even remember what.
But apparently...
I did not appreciate it. 😂
I got annoyed and upset.
My mom noticed, and pointed out her observation to me.
And she said something along the lines of:
“But Carl corrects you all the time, and you don't get upset at him.”
...
Excuse me, Mom.
We were not discussing my relationship right now. 😂
My immediate reaction was:
That's different.
But then...
Wait.
Is it?
I started replaying things.
All those little corrections.
All those little flashes of irritation.
And all the times I had immediately followed them with:
It's fine.
He's technically right.
He means well.
For once, instead of explaining my reaction away...
I actually let myself have it.
It bothers me.
Oh.
There it was.
Carl correcting me bothered me.
And strangely, I almost felt relieved admitting it.
Because I had spent so much time trying to determine whether I had a GOOD ENOUGH reason to feel something that I hadn't stopped to acknowledge the much simpler truth:
I felt it.
That didn't mean Carl was terrible.
It didn't mean he was intentionally trying to make me feel small.
It didn't mean every correction was wrong.
It simply meant:
This dynamic doesn't feel good to me.
And maybe...
that mattered too.
Then He Asked Me Directly
Eventually, Carl and I ended up talking about it.
And he asked me something along the lines of:
“Do you feel like I'm correcting you? Because I'm not trying to.”
This should have been easy.
Seriously.
He practically handed me the conversation.
I didn't have to bring it up.
I didn't have to accuse him of anything.
All I had to say was:
Yes.
Yeah, actually. Sometimes I do feel corrected.
I know you probably don't mean it that way, but sometimes it bothers me.
That was it.
And inside...
I knew that was my answer.
Does he correct me?
Yes.
Does it bother me?
Yes.
I knew both answers.
And somehow, with him sitting right there waiting for me to answer...
I couldn't say either one.
Instead, I basically said:
“No, I know where you're coming from.”
And the conversation moved on.
But something inside me didn't.
Because I knew I hadn't been completely honest.
Not in some dramatic:
I HAVE DECEIVED MY BOYFRIEND. 😱😂
kind of way.
I was trying to be nice.
I understood what Carl meant.
The second he said he wasn't trying to correct me, my brain immediately went to his side.
Oh.
He doesn't mean it that way.
And because he didn't mean it that way...
I felt like I wasn't supposed to experience it that way.
So I protected his intention.
And edited my experience.
Looking back, THAT bothers me almost more than the corrections themselves.
Because the bigger question wasn't:
Why did Carl correct me?
It was:
Why couldn't I tell my boyfriend how I actually felt when he directly asked me?
I think part of me was afraid of what would happen if I started being completely honest.
Because I already had things on my Cannot list.
I already had a prompting I hadn't followed.
I already had concerns I was trying to make peace with.
What if I admitted:
Yes. And this bothers me too.
What was I supposed to do with all of it then?
Maybe I wasn't only protecting Carl's feelings.
Maybe I was protecting the relationship from information I didn't want to face.
Because if I admitted everything that wasn't working...
I might eventually have to ask whether the relationship itself was working.
And I wasn't ready for that answer.
And Somewhere Along the Way...My World Got Smaller
There was something else happening that I didn't really notice at first.
Carl was becoming a HUGE part of my life.
Which, at the beginning, felt exciting.
Of course I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend.
I liked being with him.
I liked his family.
So I spent more time with him.
And more time with his family.
And then...
more time with him.
And more time with his family. 😂
Meanwhile, I wasn't spending nearly as much time with my own family and friends.
I wasn't always making the same amount of space for the things that were just mine.
My time started revolving more and more around the relationship.
And I don't remember having some big dramatic realization like:
OH NO. I HAVE LOST ALL BALANCE IN MY LIFE.
Nothing like that.
It was gradual.
One night with Carl.
Then another.
An activity with his family.
Another evening together.
Another FaceTime.
Another plan.
And because I genuinely WANTED to be there, it didn't feel like I was giving something up.
That's what made it hard to notice.
I wasn't being dragged into Carl's world kicking and screaming.
I was happily walking into it.
I wanted to know his people.
I wanted to be part of his life.
I wanted to support the things that mattered to him.
Those are good desires.
But somewhere along the way...
I wasn't paying as much attention to whether I was still making room for my own world too.
My family.
My friends.
My time.
My interests.
Space to think.
Space to be Alaina without automatically being:
Alaina-and-Carl.
At the time, I didn't have language for that.
It was just another quiet:
Hmm...interesting. 🤔
But looking back, I can see that losing my voice wasn't only about what I did or didn't say.
It was also about balance.
My relationship was taking up more and more space...and I wasn't noticing what was getting squeezed out.
Losing My Voice Didn't Look Like I Thought It Would
That's what makes this part of the story hard to explain.
I didn't suddenly become some completely different person.
Trust me.
I was still talking. 😂
I still laughed.
I still sang karaoke.
I still had opinions.
I still had a personality.
I was still very much me.
But I was slowly editing the things that might threaten the relationship...
and making more and more of my life fit around it.
If something bothered me but admitting it might create a problem?
I softened it.
If something on my Cannot list resurfaced?
I reminded myself of everything on the Must-Have side.
If Carl explained his perspective?
I gave his explanation a LOT of weight.
If something felt off?
I wondered whether I was being too picky.
Too critical.
Too sensitive.
Too unrealistic.
And if I couldn't logically defend how I felt...
I didn't trust the feeling very much.
I thought I needed to build a case.
Carl is wrong, therefore I'm allowed to feel this way.
But what if Carl wasn't technically wrong?
What if he meant well?
What if he was a good person?
Then where did that leave me?
I didn't understand yet that Carl didn't have to be wrong for something to be wrong for me.
And I definitely didn't understand how much energy I was spending trying to make myself comfortable with things I wasn't actually comfortable with.
Then that same pattern started showing up somewhere even more important.
In my prayers.
I Wanted Carl to Be My Person
After I felt:
You need to end this relationship,
I didn't.
I stayed.
I kept praying.
And I do want to give past-me some grace here.
I wasn't sitting there thinking:
God gave me an answer, but whatever. I'm doing what I want. 😂
That's not how it felt.
I genuinely wanted God's direction.
I genuinely wanted to make a good choice.
I genuinely thought I was trying to figure out what He wanted me to do.
But I was also becoming more attached to Carl.
And the more attached I became...
the more I wanted the answer to be:
Stay.
I wanted Carl to be my person.
SO badly.
I wanted that wavelength impression to mean what I hoped it meant.
I wanted our shared faith and values to mean something bigger.
I wanted all those good moments to be evidence that this relationship was going somewhere.
So I prayed.
And thought.
And analyzed.
And looked for reassurance.
And eventually...
I became convinced that I had received it.
I believed God had told me:
Carl was my future person.
And when I believed that?
I felt relief.
Finally.
An answer that made everything fit.
See?
I knew there was a reason there was so much good.
I knew “He's on your wavelength” meant something.
And now every concern had somewhere to go.
Something from my Cannot list?
We'll work through it.
A correction that bothered me?
That's little.
Something felt off?
Maybe I'm just scared.
Because if Carl was my future person...
then surely I wasn't supposed to leave.
I was supposed to figure this out.
Right?
Except...
the relief didn't last.
“That Wasn't Me. That Was You.”
Later, I had another spiritual experience.
And what I felt was essentially:
That wasn't Me.
That was you.
The impression that Carl was my future person?
I felt that God was telling me that hadn't come from Him.
It had come from me.
And that shook me.
Because now this wasn't only about whether Carl and I were compatible.
It was about whether I could trust myself to recognize God's direction.
I had been SO convinced.
How had I gotten there?
How had something I wanted become something I thought God was telling me?
Faith wasn't some small piece of dating for me.
I genuinely wanted God involved.
I wanted His direction.
I wanted to recognize it.
I wanted to follow it.
So realizing that I might have confused my own desire with His direction was...
honestly, kind of scary.
And that's where I had to start facing something uncomfortable.
Maybe I had wanted God's direction...
as long as His direction matched mine.
Oof. 😬
Because when I got an answer I didn't like—
You need to end this relationship.
—I hadn't acted.
I kept praying.
I kept looking at Carl.
I kept bringing God my evidence.
But look at his faith.
Look at his standards.
Look at everything we have in common.
Look at all the things on my Must-Have list that he DOES have.
Look at how much I care about him.
Look at how good this could be.
I was basically standing there with my little relationship PowerPoint presentation trying to convince GOD that He might have overlooked Slide 7. 😂
Meanwhile...
God wasn't missing information.
I was.
I could see what was directly in front of me.
I could see the guy who made me laugh.
The guy who took notes at church.
The guy I could go to the temple with.
The guy who seemed excited to introduce me to people.
The guy who would sit through karaoke while I happily sang. 😂
I could see all the reasons I wanted Carl.
What I couldn't see was the whole picture.
And I was beginning to realize that wanting something very badly could affect the way I interpreted what I was hearing.
That realization didn't immediately give me clarity.
Honestly?
For a while...
it made me more confused.
Now I Didn't Know What to Trust
I started questioning everything.
Was THAT God?
Was that me?
Did I misunderstand that impression?
Did I create this one because I wanted it so badly?
What about the prompting to end things?
And then the one that had been there from the beginning:
What about “He's on your wavelength”?
Because I still believed that impression mattered.
I just didn't understand what it meant anymore.
I had heard:
He's on your wavelength.
And somewhere along the way, I had turned that into:
This relationship has potential.
Then:
Maybe this is going somewhere.
And eventually:
This is your person.
But those weren't actually the same thing.
I had connected those dots.
And now I was beginning to wonder if maybe...
I had connected dots God never asked me to connect.
That was humbling.
And confusing.
Because if I had been wrong about something that felt SO important...
how was I supposed to trust myself the next time?
I didn't know.
And through all of this...
I was still dating Carl.
We still laughed.
We still went places.
We still had good days.
And sometimes after one of those good days, all the questions would get quiet again.
See?
We're okay.
Until something happened...
and they came back.
That's what made this relationship so difficult for me to understand.
There wasn't one giant moment that made everything suddenly obvious.
There was good.
And there were concerns.
And I kept trying to make one cancel out the other.
But slowly, I was beginning to notice something I couldn't quite unsee anymore.
I had made a list of what mattered...
then negotiated with it.
I had felt bothered...
then talked myself out of being bothered.
Carl had directly asked how I felt...
and I hadn't told him.
I had asked God for direction...
then struggled when the direction wasn't what I wanted.
I was spending more and more of my life inside Carl's world...
without noticing how little space I was leaving for my own.
And eventually, the question wasn't only:
Is Carl right for me?
It became:
What is happening to ME while I'm trying this hard to make him right for me?
That question scared me more.
Because somewhere along the way, I had stopped simply listening to what I knew, what I felt, and what I had already decided mattered.
I kept filtering everything through one question:
How can I make this relationship work?
Instead of asking the much scarier one:
What if I'm not supposed to?
I wasn't ready to let Carl go yet.
But I was getting closer to understanding why I might have to.
And when I finally did...
I would have to go all the way back to the beginning.
Back to the impression I thought meant Carl and I were supposed to end up together.
Back to those words:
He's on your wavelength.
Because maybe that impression hadn't been wrong at all.
Maybe...
I had just misunderstood what it meant.
I had spent weeks trying to understand how Carl could feel so right in some ways and still not feel right for me. Eventually, I would have to face the answer I had been trying not to face—and finally understand what “He's on your wavelength” had actually meant.
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