I keep doing what I don’t want to do.
I was trying to remember how often I have had this conversation. Inconceivable.
I feel like Lenny in “Grapes or Wrath”. I love and get so entangled in that, I smother and hurt. I have dug into my heart and soul and can see the reasons why. I have counseled about it, I have prayed about it. I have written in down. As I am sitting in the prison of my own mind, writing letters to me on the outside, I lament, “Dang it, I did it again.”
The fear of loss. The fear of rejection. The fear of being alone. Coupled with glimpses of true deep love, wonderful friendship, and personal growth and I was primed to be jailed once again. It is like giving an addict a sample of drug in the middle of withdrawal. The relief. The frothy emotional appeal. It is encompassing. I lose myself. I reject who I become. I feel alone in my heart and soul. I panic trying to make sure that I wont be without. Like an alcoholic hiding bottles in secret places, I am afraid of being without. I flirt. I imagine scenarios with other women. I have cheated in my mind and ended up sabotaging my present.
I am so sorry, and I know it is too late for that to be heard by lost loves. But I am also sorry to me. I didn’t recognize that at the root of the pathology was a fear of being alone with me. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t like myself. I didn’t enjoy who I was. I beat myself up all the time. I spoke in negative terms about myself. I told myself I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, good looking enough, and not worthy of being cherished. I went as far as when it did happen, I told myself it was because they didn’t know me. I’d panic that she would see beneath the mask. The fear would return and I’d run, proving to myself I wasn’t worthy. It is a painful cycle.
It took the worst mistake of my dating life to let me see the bars. I broke up with someone I really loved dearly. I was moving away, and I was very afraid of being lonely. I was afraid that since she didn’t want to come with me, it was because she was rejecting me. The result was incredible pain. I had voluntarily gone into the prison in my mind, separated from my heart and soul. I screamed and hollered. After awhile, I pressed my face against the bars, thinking that if I couldn’t see them, I was actually free. I was miserable and pretending to not be. I kept saying I was healed and with the extra knowledge I had acquired, I was now worthy of love. I didn’t believe it, she didn’t believe it, I don’t think anyone did, but I continued to try to convince others so I could be convinced.
I went through the stages of grief in regards to her. I bargained, I screamed, I denied. She is gone and has moved on. I have accepted that, even though I wished it wasn’t true. It took that experience for me to sit down on my cot in grief. As I did, I recognized the bars. I recognized I put myself here.
“Choose.” He said. I didn’t understand the word. I didn’t understand what I was to do. “Choose.” He repeated and walked away. I wept. I longed for her again. I wanted someone beside me. I wanted to be loved. I backed deeper in the prison. The fear crowded in the cell. It taunted me about my isolation, my pain, my loneliness.
I chose. I stood up. I put into action all the information I had gathered. I trudged across the cell. It seemed like miles. It felt like I wasn’t moving, and occasionally I had to look back to see how far I had gone. I celebrated my path. I rejoiced at my growth. I leaned against the cell door and realized it wasn’t locked. I chose to be there and I could choose to leave. I looked back at the fears huddles in the corner. I saw her there too ad realized that I would have to leave her behind as well if I wanted to grow. I started back in and saw on her face she had gone through her own cell door. We were done. I love her, and loved her too much and in place of loving me.