Some of my history of love… it’s a long one.

My weekend has been completely mundane despite many offerings to go out. I had chosen to stay home and rest my ankle as I’ve strained it working out. I’m actually fine with this even though, come Sunday, I’ll feel like I’ve been a completely useless human again.

I did have a long to-do list today which I have moved to tomorrow. I felt like I could hold off on my adulting for a day. While my week went fast it was busy and good just fast. My big plans for Saturday night… Rest my ankle, grab the tissues and watch A Star Is Born. I have a feeling that I might be crying like a baby in a couple hours. It’ll be cathartic.

I did go out last night for a little while but nothing much to discuss. I’d gone to dinner and then had drinks with an old friend. I haven’t seen him in a while and we discussed something that I don’t talk about much. It’s one of my ex’s. Granted, I talk a lot about the men in my life but this one while I’ve mentioned him a bit I’ve never really spoken about. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I wrote about him on here.

About 9 years ago I was dating this amazing guy. Still kept him a secret from almost all that I knew but I liked being with him. He was Latin, handsome and was the perfect man on paper and in person. He had an amazing personality and we had a nice relationship. However, I was not serious about him and I told him that from the beginning. At that time I wasn’t really looking for anything serious and while I knew he was I was always upfront with my feelings.

We’d met through work. He worked at a bank that we did business with and after a few after work drinks he’d asked me out on a date. He was hot so I said sure and soon after we were in a relationship but our emotions were very different. I knew he was looking to settle down and have a family and he knew that I had no idea what I wanted at that time. So, always being up front with him we both knew where each other stood.

One morning as I was getting ready to leave him place he’d mentioned marriage. I laughed it off as a joke and continued to get my stuff. I have always been very careful about making sure I don’t leave anything at some guys home in case I never come back. As I’m making sure all my clothes, jewelry and phone are with me he says it again but this time more serious. At this point I sat down on the bed and explained to him that what he wanted I didn’t at that time and that it was best to break this off because we were both at a completely different place in life.

I truly wanted him to be happy but I didn’t think his happiness was with me. After a few months of back and forth texts, some breakup sex and a few phone calls I’d officially decided that the only way to fair to him was to just leave entirely as if I’d never existed in his life. I’d gotten a few harsh texts and calls from him when he’d been drinking that expressed his anger toward me which he’d later apologized for but after about a year we had become friends. We’d gotten into one huge fight one night and I’d stopped talking to him for a while. This was around the time I met THE friend.

Here’s the thing that I’ve realized since that, with therapy and a few other experiences and AH-HA moments; because of the way I was raised with someone calling me a piece of shit as a child, with the abuse and with my terrible experiences in life I just never really felt like the girl you marry. As much as, last year, I tried to blame this feeling on the guys around me it’s something that I’ve had to realize I’ve always felt like I was never good enough. I mean, if someone who is a parent to you doesn’t think you’re good enough and you grow up feeling like that then how the hell are you supposed to think any different.

For this reason I grew up, started doing drugs and getting into relationships that I knew never had a happy ending because I didn’t think I could be loved anyway. Fucked up right? I “settled” dating the asshole that I knew was a piece of shit because it was a game. I knew he would want me in his life, not need me but want me and when he couldn’t have me I’d won. Then later in life I found these really great guys who would fall for me and I still wouldn’t feel like I was good enough so I’d push them away. I guess if you push enough people away then you are right about people not sticking around right?

So move ahead to meeting THE friend. I got attached to him because he “needed” me. I wanted so badly to “fix” him and it was never healthy. On some small level I think we both knew that our relationship was parasitic. I needed to be needed. I needed to fix something. I needed to be good enough to help someone out. This quickly turned into some unhealthy version of what I thought was love. This was never love though.

Because THE friend and I knew each other when we were kids we, very quickly, almost “moved in together”. He was at my place all the time and I was lonely and he needed me and it turned into something that it NEVER should have been. Don’t get me wrong, there was love there but I was confusing this with all these other emotions that I was having at the time. I was depressed and he was as well and it was like two people that just got thrown together in some twisted paradox BUT since I don’t think that anything happens by accident I do believe that there’s purpose behind everything and everybody we meet, he and I met to teach me things.

So after about a year of THE friend and I spending time together I received a phone call from my ex’s mom. She lived in Spain and he had gone there on vacation. She’d called to tell me that he passed away in a car accident and that she’d found a letter from him to me that he’d had in his backpack for a while. She’d gotten my address and sent it to me along with the ring that he had kept to propose to me one day.

When the letter and ring reached me I prepared myself to read it and assumed that it would be these terrible words and I’d feel like the worst piece of shit ever. After reading the letter I did feel like a real piece of shit but not because it was a terrible letter but because the letter was a beautiful poetic version of how he saw me and our relationship. I felt like a piece of shit because I felt guilty that I couldn’t love him. I felt guilty thinking that if I’d said yes to him then he wouldn’t have gone to Spain and he wouldn’t have passed away. I felt guilty because there I was morning a relationship, morning a great man but that no one around me knew about.

Soon after that I started going to therapy and talking to someone who didn’t know me from a hole in the wall. She was the start of my AH-HA moments and then with the help of me writing and talking to people a bit more I began to actually understand my fucked-up-ness. I started relieving the guilt that I felt and there was so much guilt about so many things in my life. I started to understand that I’d always picked the wrong man to love me for the wrong reasons. I started to understand myself better and my choices.

However, with all these revelations first comes depression. About a year before the storm that wiped me out I became seriously depressed and refused to be medicated so I just fell into a hole of my own making. I’d truly distanced myself from my closed friend, THE friend and a lot of others that cared for me a lot. I was sinking into a hole deeper than I knew what to do with.

Then, the storm happened and it was the greatest thing to have ever happened to me. It washed away so many things physically and spiritually for me. After falling into a bit more of a depression at first when all my belongings fit into my brothers guest closet and not know where I was going to live or what I was going to do I just had a moment. I had the biggest moment of clarity that made me realize that I needed to fix this shit because my purpose was so much bigger than what I was doing. I had this dream of being back in Houston one night and meeting someone that change my way of thinking about love and what was right and wrong and I woke up from that dream and told my family at dinner that night that I was moving back to Houston after living in Austin for months.

After some tears and gratitude from others and a few kinds words I’d moved back and I remember sitting in my apartment for the first night alone and it just felt right. I let go of my attachments, my guilt and my expectations. I started my workout routine again, yoga, meditation and gained a whole different set of friends that each gave me something different emotionally. I stopped looking for someone else to “complete me” and I started being real about my emotions. I started being even more analytical than I was before and when I started feeling something I’d ask myself “Where is this coming from?” “Is it about them or is this bringing up old feelings?”. My answer is usually the latter which means I’m assessing and understanding instead of freaking out or girl-braining and while it still does happen sometimes because, well, I’m a girl, I have a much healthier way of dealing with my past than ever before. I’m stronger, healthier in general and feel so much lighter like this.

Instead of looking to others for my happiness I find it in my charity and kindness to others and don’t worry so much about what others think about me or how they perceive me. It’s been a long fucking journey of which I work on every single day but it’s been worth it. I still have to remember to remind myself not to have any attachments to people, places and things but again, it’s worth it.

The best part of this transformation is that I’m able to actually have healthy relationships. I am able to visualize who and what I want and my assumption of what I deserve is much much greater than it’s ever been. If I choose to spend time with someone I know that as much as I am lucky to spend time with them they are as equally lucky to spend time with me. I see their actions and words as a reflection of them not of me. It’s an entirely different mindset than I had several years ago and it works for me.

So, the friend and I that I had drinks with the other night spoke about me and my dating life and had the most amazing things to say about me which I believe this time instead of the last time when he spoke those words I shrugged them off. It kind of showed me how far I’ve come. This, in no way, means that I am done learning, growing, changing or bettering myself but I am no longer in the “I’m not good enough” mindset. That’s taken decades to face and to fight but I am there.

My life is nowhere near perfect. I still want love and I still want someone to share my life with that makes me happy and feel special but I’m no longer letting men enter my life to love me then pushing them away because I don’t feel worthy. I used to say “fuck you” to the person that made me feel like shit until I realized that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be and have gone through exactly what I was supposed to have gone through. I promise myself that the next man that truly comes to me with love I will let myself this time.

I know this was a long post and if you read the whole thing then my blessings go out to you 🙂 I am off to watch a sad movie but since it’s about music it’s totally worth it. Nite world xXx

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