I just want to start by saying that I don’t think you’re a bad person. I never thought that you were out to get me or did any of these things intentionally to hurt me. But it happened. And it changed me. And even though I’m finally dealing with it, I’m still kind of angry. It’s hard to tell sometimes if I’m angry at myself or with you. But then I don’t want to be angry and I try to brush it off.
It might have taken me a long time to call it what it was, but it was emotional abuse. Like I said, I don’t think of you as bad or as an abuser, so maybe that’s why it took me so long to face this head on. You kept me hanging on; you pulled me in when you wanted me, but pushed me away when you didn’t. You led me on when you knew how I felt. You told me you loved me, but did you or were you just trying to convince me to sleep with you? (I’m so glad I didn’t.) I thought I could help you; thought I could save you from yourself. I feel like that barely scratches the surface and there was so much more than that. But I’m still dealing with it all and I’m not ready to say it all.
You hurt me, but now I’m the one hurting myself. You made me afraid of a basic emotion that I now try to avoid at all costs. I get anxious; I apologize profusely. I assume that I must have done something wrong if someone doesn’t respond to me in a timely manner. I don’t trust myself anymore. I don’t want to be angry and the thought of anyone being angry at me causes even more anxiety.
I want to be happy with someone, but I fall for people who are unavailable; who don’t love me back. And I feel like I’m subconsciously doing this to myself—no one can hurt me if I never really stand a chance with them. Then it’s just me hurting me.
And I’m really fucking tired of it. I want to be okay. I want to not get anxious about everything. I want to not take everything so goddamn personally. I want to be able to just go out with someone, kiss and touch someone, do whatever the hell my body feels like doing.
But I don’t feel like I can. I can’t wrap my mind around doing something without emotion. I used to think that was helping me. But is it hurting me? Are my feelings holding me back from moving forward? Don’t get me wrong, I feel nothing for you anymore. I’m glad you can be so happy and have your life working out so well while I feel trapped inside my own anxious and neurotic mind.
As much as I want love and want to let someone in, I appear to do a fantastic job of keeping people out. I’m scared to admit my feelings to people because the thought of rejection or of such intense pain after letting someone else in is terrifying. My heart races just thinking about it.
I’m working through it, though. Writing this out is part of that. Being honest with myself about it. About how I feel. My interpretation. Talking it out. That’s a step in the right direction. Right?
This post was brought to you by Dawn, who knows that this story is not unique.