Fighting some serious issues today. “G,” (who’s real name is actually Michael, by the way. I feel comfortable sharing that now) has been nothing but wonderful to me. So wonderful, in fact, that it’s starting to eat me alive inside. I’m so used to be being burned in the past by guys, by not measuring up to their standards, of never being enough for a guy, of being the old stand-by and not the true and faithful. I’m finally coming to grips that I’m just WAITING for this relationship to blow up in smoke so I can further prove (to myself) that no guy could ever TRULY, IRREVOCABLY love me or respect me EXACTLY the way I’m dying for them to. I finally have this and I almost don’t know what to do with it or myself. It’s so easy to build these walls (with food) to keep others out. This vulnerability has made me so damn uncomfortable that I’m almost unconsciously trying to screw things up myself. I can’t possibly believe that this wonderful guy, my wonderful guy, could stand in front of me, flaws open and bleeding and instead of turning away, embracing them and embracing me.
3 big bowls of oatmeal later… I’m hurting so badly. My stomach aches like hell, I’m nauseated and have considered purging, but I know deep down that wouldn’t solve anything. The damage is done.
I’m still very much (internally) that little girl, watching her Dad vanish from her life, picking work and his friends over me, over my Mom, and over our family. I’m replaying all the yelling, all of the ballet recitals, plays, choir concerts, and family time missed because he chose everything else over us. Even when we had more than enough to provide for food, bills, and living a comfortable life, he always had somewhere else to go. Anytime he WAS around, he was either yelling or on the phone with a business contact. I lost my father. Suddenly, I wasn’t his little princess, his little girl.
I could only get by on bare minimum small talk with him (and it’s still that way today) so as not to rock the boat, get criticised, or broken down. My Mom became both roles to me growing up- she had to. He brought in the paycheck but she held the fort down, kept us all in our hobbies and activities, made sure the homework was done, and kept us going. He traveled 5-6 days a week, every week, for years. He became my Weekend Father. He’d magically reappear just in time for a few hours on Saturday and for church on Sunday (to appear normal to our ward and neighbors). No one spoke up- we didn’t dare. We quietly kept the madness going for years, each of us kids growing up, moving out, going to college and/or getting married.
Freedom came at a cost. I carried all of that hurt, all of that abandonment with me into my marriage with Chris, who in turn traded me in for something more important in his eyes- computer games. History can repeat itself. I allowed another man to step in, gather my trust, and crumble me to pieces. Bit by bit and pound by pound lost, I gathered my courage to step out into the world on my own, still shaking but more hopeful than ever. And off I went. Looking back, I only regret not moving on sooner. Seven tries in, all about the same things, nothing was changing. I was trusting and naive enough to think they eventually would (knowing full well that they wouldn’t).
“Prove to me that not all guys will abandon me, walk out on me, and leave me stranded. Go on, I dare you. And please.”
Fortunately enough, I’m emotionally strong enough to acknowledge my reasons for falling off the wagon. It’s not that I’m super hungry, lazy, and lack time today. I ate because I was so hurt and was desperate for that comfort, to build that wall up again. How could it be different this time? How could Michael be the ONE guy to prove me wrong, once and for all, that there will be someone to stand by my side every step of the way? I’m not used to feeling this way, being this happy, or being treated this good, asking nothing in return but the same. I’m on trembling feet, waiting for the roof to cave in so I’m almost trying to beat it to the punch and do it myself.
I still have a lot of hurt to let go of so I can move on. I need to find that place where I can dispel any past grudges and shortcomings of both my Dad and from Chris so I can face this new beautiful thing with arms stretched out, ready to take it all in, let him take care of me, and hold my heart.
I made my amends, the past is over with. My stomach is beginning to settle and I’m looking for any silver lining at all. At least my muscles are fully stocked with energy for any and all long runs planned this week (and for the next five). There you go.