Love-phobic

Love. It’s a sticky subject to say the least, It encompasses so much of our being from the time we’re born and bond with our parents to that first friendship to that first crush that truly teaches us what the word “crushed” means. It’s a scary prospect, love. This week, I’ve learned that for me, it’s a lot more scary than I ever realized.

No. I’m not talking about a stalker situation, though that’s a whole category that deserves discussion as love gone wrong, though I’m not sure you can categorize it as love. It’s obsession and power. I’m talking about the vulnerable side of us that we hide away from everyone except those that we deem worthy.  It’s a giving of our whole self to someone. It requires that the other person will treat that raw. squishy bit of us with care. Like the Ood holding it’s own brain in it’s hand, we’re required to trust completely.

For as long as I can remember I’ve searched for it, longed for it, dreamed of the day I’d find the one and live happily ever after with my partner in crime. From Wuthering Heights to Brief Encounter to Dracula I’ve dremed of how it could be and wished for it. (A highly romanticized view of it, anyway) While doing some deep soul searching lately and trying to figure out why it is that I have such trouble relating to people and being myself apart from my shy persona, I’ve had a kind of huge realization. I’ve been looking forever for someone to love and accept me. It feels like a lifetime of disappointing encounter after disappointing encounter where that trust I spoke of was broken and that word “crushed” came up in reference to my heart. The big revelation is a bit of a surprise to me.

I’m the problem. I’ve always been the problem.

When I look back at the way I’ve been, it’s always been me that’s pulled away. This week I finally figured out why. A memory came up that showed me just how wounded I was and a big reason not to trust people with my exposed heart. It was something that happened when I was probably five or six, a best friendship gone wrong, which has had lasting tentacles. I can see it’s effects through all of my relationships telling me that people aren’t safe. People disappoint. People hurt. Unconsciously I’ve repeated this pattern over and over again and proved myself right.

When I realized this, I had a lot of anxiety, which showed me that I was on the right track. All the over-excitement when someone showed any interest in me was actually anxiety…fear. The last time I went on a date, I had to take a sedative to breathe, I was so anxious. That should have been a clue. My extra weight…a wall to keep interest away. Even my silence and shyness, not being myself in front of people, not showing them who I am, is a wall to keep people from getting too close or from seeing the real me; to keep them from rejecting me and making me feel bad or, God forbid, liking me and down the road, making me feel worse with a bigger rejection,

It feels almost silly finding out that you’re afraid of love. Heartache is so much easier. I know how to do that and really well. I’m used to that, but being open, really vulnerable to somebody, that’s terrifying. Now, that’s not to say that I still wouldn’t love to experience it before the end of the world, it just appears that I have a lot of work to do before I can. What a weird day.

WM

 

Day 6 – That is why you fail

Sigh…This one hit me like a wet fish across the face. I’m sure I could rant on and on about how this is a huge load of bull crap; how I know a ton of women who have been through relationship hell and who remain there in the lower circles praying for some wings…or some ice water.

Some of us don’t want to be coupled. Some enjoy an endless chase, but for now, I’m concentrating on those frustrated by their circumstances. I actually read the subject of today’s blog to my friend and she busted out laughing. “Yeah, right!” Nothing is perfect. If everyone could write down their laundry list and wish for what we wanted we’d all be Snow White (or Cinderella or your princess of choice. I, myself have always been partial to the evil queens…) and already riding off into the sunset with the prince. But things aren’t quite that simple.

In a perfect world where no one had been bruised, battered, or scarred, maybe that would be the case, but things get complicated with those pesky things we call brains. We have subconscious fears and motivations. We have programs running that we can’t turn off that make us do damned crazy things and we aren’t even aware of them. They’re little circuits and wires that connected to protect us from repeating pain. They have good intentions, but they muck up the works in Fairytale Land.

There are two schools of thought on this and I’ve been caught between the two, tending more toward the psychology than energy. The aforementioned psychological drive says that what you’re used to, what you’re comfortable with, is what you seek out. So basically, if you’re used to being treated like you’re invisible, you’re only going to notice the guys (or girls) who will reinforce that view of the world. Your brain is trained but good. It’s got radar. You’ll filter out Mr. Right and see that guy who will treat you like you’re less than nothing in 2.2 seconds flat. The other idea is that you attract what you believe and what you put out. Same thing, but with the energetic woo-woo thrown in. Like the force, your energy is your ally or your enemy. You attract and repel by it. It guides you down one path or another. It says energy surrounds us and binds us. You must feel the Force around you: here. Between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes. Even between the land and the ship….and I just geeked out right there… moving on… Either idea means you can’t allow anyone to love you more than you love yourself.

That last bit there…that’s what I think I did with my first relationship after my marriage ended. I ruined it. I can cop to screwing that up.  Like Luke Skywalker not believing he could raise the ship from the swamp, not believing is why I failed. So now I have to look at what I have in front of me in the form of my Mr. Big.

I hate calling him that because it’s not my term. Single Dad Laughing called his girlfriend The Farmer’s Daughter. I’ll call my Big…The Doubtful Guest as there’s never a real outcome to the story and I’m not sure if it’s a permanent or fleeting arrangement. I can say for certain though that through his reflection I’ve learned more about myself than I ever have. He’s also much more than that. Certainly if you’ve taken any self-help soul mate journey at all, you’ve got that foot long list of traits in a partner. The Doubtful Guest ticks about 89% of the boxes on my list. There’s just that availability thing…and the being there for me like I’m there for him thing…and the proximity thing, and the you know, in or out damned thing…plus a few nit-picky others. So, is it the exact love life I want? Not yet, no.

But then again, maybe, yes.

The super healthy ideal may show up in a future with him and it may not. I’ve let go of that outcome. To be fair, it may not be exactly what I dreamed of, but what I do have is just enough space to be emotionally safe and just enough companionship to not be completely alone. I hear “I Love You” every once in a while. I have my independence and I have my space. I have my alone time and my choices of what to do with my space. So it’s the love life I’ve put my energy into. It’s the love life that’s the reflection of me. I think that means that I just need to focus harder on feeling loved and loving me much, much more; spending more time on and with me. That’s the important thing, isn’t it? It’s so easy to forget about yourself and dissolve into the other person or to look for somebody to complete you. (Ugh.) Life should be bigger than your relationship but a good one can make life much more rich. So, I start again with me and remember what Susan Sarandon said in Thelma and Louise. You get what you settle for. That time will come only when I become enough of the me I hope to become. Then the right reflection will show up.