In Response to my Own Heart

I realized after posting yesterday’s poem that I needed to do some explaining—to myself as well as everyone else. You see, I’m not nearly as hung up on the past as that poem lets on. I’m actually quite happy with my present situation, which could, in fact, be the reason such thoughts are on my mind lately.

You see, in every relationship since, well, my first “real” relationship, I’ve always known two months in that it wasn’t going to last, but because I’m stubborn, I would let it go anyway, incurring loads of pain for the both of us. Case(s) in point:

My Teenage Boyfriend: tried to break up two months in, he wouldn’t let me, we ended up dating for 3 years, experiencing all the highs and lows a teenage relationship can cause, damaging my self-confidence almost to the point of non-repair.

Uni Boyfriend: two months in, had a massive fight about the origins of Mardi Gras of all things (just one example of the endlessly stupid fights we would have), ended up dating 3.5 years (fighting most of the time; go figure)

Twenties Boyfriend: knew with absolute certainty two months in that we weren’t going to marry, spent the next 4.5 years hoping I was wrong (hint: we’re not together anymore).

My intuition at the two month mark has been pretty consistent, even with those “minor” players I mentioned: one completely stopped responding to my texts; one ignored me when his best mate was around; one made me pay for everything. So, yeah, two months has generally been a good mark of evaluating my relationships, even if I don’t ever listen to myself.


It's like a depressing holiday...

Here I am, again, at the two month mark of a relationship, and I find myself in a predicament. You see, I have no qualms about this relationship. No concerns. No desire to run away. No, in reality, I want to be with him more than before. Two months in, and I already know this has a future; British Boyfriend makes me happier than I’ve ever been.

Which is disconcerting to my brain because it was already gearing up to analyze and rationalize the situation for potential threats. But there are none. At all; and believe me, I’ve looked—hard. Since the start of this relationship, British Boyfriend has been everything I asked the Universe for in this blog. And that freaks me out.


Not MY bubble bath
but just know British Boyfriend did this. For me.
And it was awesome.

I’m so used to protecting myself that not needing to, not needing to hide or half-lie about who I am is absolutely terrifying, especially because I don’t know (or like) myself all that completely. To have someone who is so very accepting of my quirks and my weaknesses, who loves that I am curvy, who can match my ability to be both highly intellectual yet crass at times, who is willing to watch documentaries yet go out on the piss now and again, who encourages me to try new things, to approach new ideas, to be ME without rebuke.

It’s fucking scary!

Seriously, I know many of you are scoffing or rolling your eyes, but I am treading unfamiliar terrain here, and my brain, rather than turn its condemnation on British Boyfriend (because it can’t), has reverted to reminding me of my past hurts. My heart is open and willing and screaming with excitement, but my brain, in an effort to keep me safe, has brought back all those old emotions of self-hatred. It keeps reminding me how I didn’t measure up before in an effort to make me hold back, to cause some self-fulfilling prophecy where I end up alone again. Because sadness is easier.



Where IS that other shoe...?

But I don’t want that. Was it Einstein who said insanity was trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? I never told anyone how I felt before because I was scared of jinxing my already jinxed relationships. Well, here’s me trying something new in hopes of getting a different result; rather than hold things in, I’m going to broadcast them here. What’s a blog for if not the expression of one’s thoughts? Let’s hope, though, that my intuition holds up. Because right now, I don’t see myself being alone again for a very, very long time.

"Smiley faces all around!"

 

A Little Bit of Me...

This will not be my only post this month, but holding back what keeps fighting to get out only makes whatever it is want to get out more. So in an effort to avoid this, I penned a poem. It's a little bit emo, but I've come to accept that I'm a little bit emo; comes with being so open with my emotions.

The logical part of me wants to delete this poem because it's just a reflection of how I can't let go of past hurts. But then, the more I fight it, the more entrenched those hurts become. Maybe by penning and publishing this, I can finally let them free, let them go, let them haunt some other space besides my head and my heart. So, here it is:

I know because you're there
In the way I remember your name
Through those half-forced sighs
In the way I remember my body
Slumped in self-defeat
In the way I remember my cries
Muffled among my tears
In the way I remember waiting for you
Only to be joined by silence
Fifteen years
Of equating “love” and “sex”
Fifteen years
Of disappearing into you
Fifteen years
Of a thousand “What if"s
What if I were…
      …thinner?
      …taller?
      …smarter?
      …dumber?
      …darker?
      …frailer?
      …wilder?
      …weaker?
      …better?
      …perfect?

But I never could be,
Always aspiring to whatever form
Of perfection you desired.
You, who loved stick thin beauties with dark hair,
And you, who loved pale Southern belles.
You, who loved smart girls,
As long as they weren’t smarter than you,
And you who loved everyone…
But me.

And those are just the major players;
There were others.
Smaller ones
Whose tiny flames
Still added to my angry fire,
My lonely future.
Angry because I cannot trust
Lonely because I cannot live.
I know
Because you’re there
Every time something goes wrong
Every time I think I’m happy
You’re there,
You’re all there,
To remind me
How imperfect I am
And how, nobody
Not one person
Can love me;
Not
Even
Me.

Again, this is not meant to get comforting comments or exclamations of "It's okay!" or "Get over it!"; my own brain berates me with those phrases enough as it is. No, this is purely meant to send these negative emotions into the ether in hopes of ridding myself of them forever. Yes, I know it's not entirely fair what I've written, and yes, I know I'm being melodramatic, but it's my blog, my poem, MY feelings, so please don't demean them. Again, my brain does that enough as it is.

Thank you for reading, though; however you may feel about it...