I am shivering from cold after letting a few tears roll down. I don’t know why I feel cold but it feels like I’m wearing a special suit made of lizard’s blood. Today is one of those days in which the barrier that separates me from everything else is broken, so anything can easily become a nail, ready to pierce my skin, head and heart.
The lack of a reassuring presence in my life right now is eating me out and my thoughts go back and forth, confusing me even more about how to get rid of a certain dose of unwillingness to live. It’s not what you are thinking. I don’t want to die. Actually, I want to live. The trouble is that for me life without love doesn’t seem to make much sense. Not having someone to love and to be loved back is definitely something that takes life out of me. It’s like I need that to feel alive, as pathetic as that may sound. So in an effort to understand this feeling, I get myself thinking about how my relationship with love has changed, or not, over the years.
I grew up as the shy, fat girl who had to love in secret. I would be a guy’s confident and exam-saviour, just for the thrill of having them speaking to me. Otherwise, they wouldn’t. I was the nice, smart and fat girl, and I wasn’t very happy with that, but I assumed that was my life. As a result, I stuffed all my feelings inside and developed the belief that it wasn’t possible to be loved back by any guy because of the way I looked.
Later in life, I lost weight and I started looking like a model as people used to say. I remained immune to their words, because my belief was stronger and still there: I am unlovable. This is where the conflict begins: I need love to feel alive and yet I believe I’m not lovable. This contradiction led me to a never ending number of abusive relationships, because I wanted love but I also unconsciously wanted to confirm that the belief of not being lovable was true.
My parents didn’t do a good job either on making me feel secure and lovable. My mother kept us at an arm-length and my father isn’t good at expressing himself. So I have been looking for love all these years and sabotaging myself at the same time. Usually, my experiences with love are one of three:
- I’m in love with someone who is not emotionally available
- Someone is in love with me and I can’t reciprocate
- I force myself to love someone who says to be in love with me
None of these situations has turned out good. Loving someone who is not emotionally available made me be less impulsive and less open to meet new people. In other words, it made me more detached from love and hopeless. Forcing myself to love someone who says to be in love with me has always turned out in self-torture and a deep questioning of whether I will ever love and be loved back. I’m still here, wondering about that.
When I thought I had found the one, it was taken away from me, opening old wounds I didn’t think were still a problem. I assessed the situation and did my best to forget it. My assessment resulted in assuming that I had been stupid. If I forgot it or not, I can’t say, but afterwards I thought I maybe had to try harder and learn to love those who loved me in the first place. I assumed I was definitely the problem and was probably turned off by people who loved me. If you have read my latest posts, you probably know it hasn’t worked well and I do think I have been an idiot for assuming that I’m the problem.
I don’t feel like meeting anyone new now and yet I miss the experience of romantic love. My mind keeps playing the episodes in which I almost got it and then lost it. There is a considerable stack of attempts and failures. Plus, it has been so much harder to fall in love in the last couple of years as well. Going on an app is out of question and going to a bar doesn’t sound very much like me either. Do I really want to meet someone else right now? I honestly don’t think so. I just miss the good, no-drama bits.