Cinder Blocks

So its been said that in order to get over your last relationship you need to get into a new relationship. It sounds good in theory, but what if you are getting into a relationship with the same person you just got out of a relationship with? In this instance I was breaking up with and getting back together with myself. It was time to get down to business. To get into the nitty-gritty of my inner workings and I for one was terrified. There are certain things about me that I know, but certainly do not speak about, or didn’t during this time in my life. I knew I was not the girl who really liked to be touched. I used to wonder if I was ever held as a baby. Apparently I was and I even liked it. However now a days the thought of letting someone hold my hand, touch my face or, dear God Hug me, could send shivers down my spine. I never really understood why I didn’t like it. Maybe it was never by the right guy? Maybe it was a sense of vulnerability for me to let someone do those things that seemed so intimate to me? Maybe I was just a freak. All I know is I didn’t like it and I cringed at the thought of it although I did it. They just never saw my face. My face is another thing I realized about myself. It is just a regular face. Long and oval-shaped. It has dark circles under my set in eyes and moles and quite a few sun spots, but it is my face. The difference about my face and other’s faces is that all of my emotions tend to be listed on my face. Like reading a book or a recipe. When someone is speaking my face reacts even if the rest of me doesn’t. If I am sad or mad or happy, my face reacts first. I used to go into meetings at work and people would always ask me what’s wrong? I would say “nothing why?” Their response was “By the look on your face…..” So now I work very hard at keeping my face in a neutral position. I have somehow gone to the extreme on this though cause now I get asked “What do you think?” and “Did you hear me?” cause I guess I am now expressionless. The continual question in therapy was “Why do you keep choosing the same guy?” I know each of them were different, but they were all pretty much the same. Non-communicative, looking to be taken care of, immature in some respects, untrustworthy, etc. I would remind my therapist that my sessions were supposed to be about me, not about them. She would remind me, that in order to understand me I would need to understand why I was with them. Ugh. Really? One thing I realized was that I lacked follow through. I knew at any given moment I could leave. I was really good at leaving. And divorce? I was great at Divorce. I could do it in under $1000 and quicker than you can say “I no longer pronounce you Mr. & Mrs.” However that is not something to be proud of. And yet I was, how backwards was my thinking? Instead of being proud that I could stay, I was proud that I could leave. I once had someone ask me “If you could grab your kids with nowhere to live and no money and just up and leave, what makes me think you won’t do that to me?” Nothing. Nothing should ever make you think that I can’t leave you too. What a very sad way to live. I thought about that a long time. I discussed it in therapy numerous times. What is my fear in staying? What is my fear of actually being happy? I recently learned to ask myself two questions: 1) What is the benefit of staying stuck? and B) What is the downside of success? They sound like the same question, but they are very very different. They do explain a whole heck of a lot if you really truly think about it. Who was I without chaos? It was a part of me. Come backs was what I did, it was who I was. I never knew it, but I let it define not just my life, but my entire being. Living in survival mode, handling crisis, living so solidified in drama, I was so immersed in it, I could barely think about how much money this was going to cost me in therapy to get out of. The root of me was cemented in this life style and the first step in being in a new relationship with myself was going to be starting to remove the cinder blocks attached to my life.

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