The Great and Tiring Mystery

-

They ask me why I did it. Thus far only one person has understood. I'm tired. This bag of false promises gets heavy, heavier than you would ever imagine. I should know; I've done it many times before. And I really don't want to do it again.

They can say it's her; it's the women I choose to date. I know the truth. I live the truth with every breath I take. It's me. You see my relationships follow the same pattern, over and over and over again.

1. They say I'm perfect, amazing, wonderful, awesome, everything. Insert whichever the extravagantly good adjective you want, I've been them all.

2. They fall in love, tell me they love me. They make me feel safe, make all kinds of promises about how much they love me.

3. Feeling safe, I jump in. I fall deeply in love with them. I try to make them feel as loved and wonderful as they make me feel.

4. Two to ten months pass (sometimes less, never more).

5. They pull away, start seeing someone else, cheat, lie, disconnect. Any or all of the above.

6. I try to fix things, love them more, do better, whatever better might be.

7. They tell me they're not in love with me any more. They move on, find greater happiness with someone else. More often than not, they say they hate me. Clearly, I'm no longer perfect, amazing, awesome, wonderful, or everything.

8. In the end, I'm still madly in love and they can't be bothered. They are done, light switch flipped to the off position, and I'm left holding a really heavy bag of false promises.

I honestly don't know what happens in Step 4 and why. I've racked my brain to insanity producing proportions and I've still got nothing. How do I go from being everything to being nothing? This is the great, and tiring, mystery.

The thing is I know I'm not perfect, amazing, awesome, wonderful, or everything. I try to make that clear from the very beginning. I'm just Stacee and oh so very human. Still they insist upon the pedestal, a pedestal I know will come crashing down in a wave of 'I don't love you anymores'. It's inevitable. Believe that an imperfect person is perfect and I guarantee you reality will hit soon enough.

It's a lot of pressure trying to be perfect, trying to live up to an image, love up to an image. If only they would see the real me from the beginning. I don't put on airs or pretend to be anything I'm not. I know I don't. I'm down to earth and I live true to myself. I'm the first one to admit and own my shortcomings. I'm proud of who I am, imperfections and all.

Sadly, they choose to see some perfect, amazing, awesome, wonderful, everything version of me. Then when I fail to measure up, they don't know what to do. My friends are fond of a saying it's them - they're insecure, realize they don't measure up, and sabotage the relationship before I figure all that out. Perhaps my friends are right, but as the number of relationships that follow this pattern rises, I have to look at the common denominator - me.

Maybe I don't love them right or enough. I know I'm not perfect so anything is possible. I go over and over it in my head. I make myself sick, crazy. I don't sleep. I don't eat. I have to figure this out. If I don't, I'll never be able to have the relationship I want. How is it that so many people are in relationships that last years and I can't get one past ten months?

So, yes... I'm tired and I don't know how much longer I can do this. My heart and soul are crushed, my head is spinning, and this bag of false promises is getting really heavy. I just want it to be done and over with. I want to be free. For once and for all, I want to be free.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Biggest Fan

-
It comes for all of us. If we're lucky. Right now, I'm not sure I feel lucky, but I know in the days, weeks, months, and years to come, I will come to realize that I am. Or I was. My parents are elderly, eighty-four and ninety-two. From where I'm sitting at the moment - my mother's hospital room - it's doubtful that my mom will reach tomorrow, much less eighty-five, So here I sit. And write...while  my biggest fan lays a few feet away snoring like a freight train. Her snores mean she's still alive so rather than drowning them out with music, I listen, Intently. Because each one could be her last. It's the drugs - her pain was pretty severe - making her sleep so soundly. These same drugs, the ones that keep the pain at bay, may also hasten her death. Her decision. She's been kicking cancer's a** for the past seven years. My mom's no sissy; she can endure. But this isn't the cancer, the known quantity. This is an aneurysm, a ticking time bomb...
Read more

Ironic, Actually

-
A couple days ago, I posted my first ever vlog. It was  just me reading an old blog from December 2018 called, "Courage, Actually." I chose it specifically because it's about accepting life's challenge and fearlessly stepping outside your comfort zone. Making and posting a video of myself was a big step outside my personal comfort zone - in fact, I have long said it's something I would never do - so I felt the topic was timely and appropriate. Reception of the vlog among my Facebook friends and followers was immediately positive. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Courage for the win. I worry, though, that I have falsely painted myself as some courageous-comfort-zone-and-fear-defying crusader. In reality, that's just not me. Not these days...and I think it's time for me to come clean. It's kind of ironic, actually. And hard for me to admit. This might be the barest I have stripped myself in a long time. For the past few months, I have been mired in ...
Read more

Be That Person

-
 A friend texted me last night. Her almost twelve year old son is starting middle school today and she was more than a little stressed. I guess it's somewhat normal for parents to be nervous about such milestones in their children's lives. I mean sixth grade means a bigger school, perhaps switching classrooms, more complex homework assignments, etc, etc. I'm sure there's also some wistfulness about the whole thing. The "My baby's growing up" kinda thing. My friend's concerns last night (and again this morning) were far larger. You see, her son is different. He always has been. Not only is he on "the spectrum," he also has Tourettte's. And he's on the fringes of non-binary. Plus, he lives on the border of Texas and Arkansas in a place that is far from open-minded and falls just below marginally accepting. This is the land of conservative politics (ie Trump), gun rights, big religion, and the concomitant "family values" that i...
Read more