November 22, 2012 § 5 Comments
It’s funny how incredibly predictable life can be at times. For example: take an emotionally broken girl who just a few months ago got out of a serious, long-term relationship that sent her into a spiral of self-destruction that she’s only just now beginning to drag herself tooth-and-nail out of, and try to start something new with her. But instead of taking it slow, for some reason, despite the lengthy warning label stapled to her forehead, you toss her into the deep end of the dating pool where you’re inviting her over to meet your mom and your best buddies just two days later and wanting to spend all your time with her. Somehow, after all the verbal and written warnings, after the lengthy warning label, you’re actually surprised that she freaked out and shut down when you chunked her in the deep end? I mean, honestly, how many kids actually learn to swim that way? I’d like to see some statistics for that.
Some people say that I’m self-sabotaging, that I over-think things to such an extent that I refuse to start them because somewhere down the road I imagine troublesome road blocks. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’ve lived enough of life to know myself pretty well, and I can recognize and accept that I am a big mess, but I’ve learned to politely but firmly warn people of that fact and the consequences that will result of getting involved with someone like me.
The sad thing is that I’ve always been like this. The few times really great, sweet guys are interested in me [and I’m actually mutually attracted to them], I shut down and shut them out. But when someone treats me like shit, I’m content following them around, nipping at their heels until they turn around and kick me in the face. Alec is an interesting case because he is a great, sweet guy, but he’s so emotionally damaged that I didn’t feel the need to shut him out and he made me feel insignificant enough that I followed him around for five years.
Of course, I have a theory about this, and for a long time I refused to entertain it, but given recent events, I think I have to.
Chase used to tell me he didn’t want to be in a relationship because people can’t be in love unless they love themselves first, unless they’re okay with who they are when they’re alone. I’ve always rolled my eyes whenever I’ve heard things like this in the past, but I’m starting to think there might be a scintilla (GRE word!) of truth in it. This truth really has two parts: loving myself and letting someone love me. For some reason lately, I keep having the saying “We accept the love we think we deserve” run through my head. I think it must be subconsciously seeping into my thoughts through The Perks of Being a Wallflower movie advertisements, because I’m pretty sure that quote is in that book (everyone else in art school read the book, but I didn’t. ever the rebel). Anyway, I think that whenever I get around people who could actually love me, I shut down because I don’t believe anyone ever could or perhaps should love me. I’m volatile, impulsive, impatient, and I lash out whenever I feel hurt, tired, or vulnerable. I have impossibly high expectations for everyone, but especially for myself, and I beat my ass to a pulp when I fail to meet or exceed those expectations. I’m constantly negative or wrapped up in my own head, a result of a genetic predisposition for depression. I fear for anyone who dares to love me, cause that’s a kamikaze mission, if you’ll forgive the dramatization. I can’t love myself because I recognize all my flaws and refuse to forgive myself for them, and I refuse to let anyone else love me because I don’t think I deserve it and because I know I’ll just hurt them in the end.
We accept the love we think we deserve. People never really change. Depression hurts everyone. I will be alone, or I will be unhappy.
Such is life. There are few surprises.