Sometimes I think I’m ready to date again. To be in a relationship again. Other times, I think I’ll never be able to really be a whole person for someone else. (No, nothing is actually wrong in my current relationship).
One of the worst things about living with the things that I have to live with is all of the sad memories.
The grief and the doubt. The abuse that I’ve lived through that makes me hold back and subconsciously need to protect myself. I second guess everything. Then again, I’m actually very perceptive, so when I second guess there’s usually a reason for it. I know I’m hypersensitive to how others are feeling. Therapist actually thinks it’s one of my best qualities. I’m so perceptive of how others are feeling, and so considerate of it, that I work so hard to make them comfortable around me comes without a second thought.
I don’t feel comfortable with me though. Not always. Especially when others in my past have worked so hard to make me feel so bad about myself. I’ve felt extremely off. Hollow. In an existential place of understanding who I am. Feeling who I am. Lately I haven’t felt anything at all.
I’m hoping to make a lateral move at work that will lead to more opportunities in the future. I’m in a caring, healthy relationship… that has felt a little distant, but only for purely plausible reasons – she was on a family vacation out of state for the last week. I still need to reconnect a little though. I feel like between the two I’m a little unsteady and I hate that when things in my external world are a little unbalanced, in a shifting state, that my internal world is so affected.
It makes me sad. I want to be the kind of person that can just pick up and be the person I was when I was happiest last. I don’t like to be this way. I actually can’t remember the last time I felt this way. Therapist has been so proud of me and the work that I’ve done. How far I’ve come in my therapy and the positive changes I’ve made in my life and my patterns of behavior. I need to feel stability in my world. I hate the “what ifs”. I can’t stand the uncertainties.
I wish I had happier memories to share. It saddens me that all too often what I have to contribute I keep quiet because my memories are darkened with a lifetime of pain.
All the bad memories. All the abuse. They crowd into the dark corners of my mind, whispering what could happen if I don’t pay attention to every single detail. People wonder why I overthink things. I just want things to be perfect. Not just for me. For her and for everyone around me. Mostly I just want things to be steady. I want things to be still. Tranquil.
What I wouldn’t give for a life of quiet certainty sometimes.