14th
Bring on the doubt
I desperately need to be single for a little while. I have been relationships, with very little downtime, since I came to college. I need to be able to be selfish and make myself happy without worrying about how that decision will affect my significant other. And that’s fine. It’s fun. I can go on dates or let people buy me drinks without feeling guilty. The present is perfect. It’s the future that bothers me.
What if I’m incapable of ever forming a lifelong, lasting relationship? It’s possible for people to spend their entire lives together. Sometimes, they even do it out of genuine love for one another and not just some sense of obligation or obstinacy. But what if I can’t do that? I know this isn’t a novel concern, but it is for me. I thought I’d found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. That’s why in the last few months, I ignored the nagging feeling in my stomach that told me I wasn’t happy with him anymore, that I wasn’t forcing myself to pretend I was still attracted to someone with no goals. I’d convinced myself that this was a rough patch and I could talk myself out of it. I couldn’t, and that’s why by the time he left, it was a relief. I never even thought to ask him to reconsider.
Does that mean this doesn’t hurt? Of course not. It hurts like hell sometimes, but not because it’s over. It hurts because I spent the last two and a half years in a relationship with someone I never even knew. It hurts because, as in love with him as I was, I have to hesitate to even say that because the person I was in love with never existed. I will have enough trust issues from this mess to keep me in therapy for life.
Which brings me to my current problem: What if I’m just not supposed to have that kind of relationship with someone? And there are so many reasons that this could be a reality. I’m suspicious of things my dates tell me. Not in a crazy, possessive kind of way. I have no real attachment to these people. If they lie to me, it’s not a real issue. But what if I actually form a connection with one of these people and the entire relationship becomes based on these lies again? I know how ridiculous this sounds, especially when it’s typed out to be read. But it’s something I worry about, with good reason, now.
Or what if I can’t be attracted to someone who isn’t a trainwreck? What if my caregivers’ syndrome has caused me to feel nothing for someone who is successful and not emotionally crippled by health issues or family troubles or substance abuse? I’ve always been aware that these issues kill a relationship, but I’ve always thought I would be able to fix the person before the clock ran out. That never happens and it never will. I even think, at times, I’m getting better about staying away from toxic relationships. But that’s easy to say when I’ve just gotten out of one.
Or, and this is the most difficult one of all, what if I’m the problem? What if I am so completely unbearable to live with and so demanding that it simply can’t be done? He’d tell me regularly that I was the problem, that I could never admit I was wrong or that I set too many time limits on how long it took him to do things. Looking back, it’s very easy for me to see why he was so defensive about these things. But still, there’s a nagging voice in my brain saying that maybe he’s right. Even if he wasn’t right at the time, maybe he conditioned me until I actually became those things. Maybe, in some fucked up twist of fate, by the time he realized he didn’t actually want me, he’d ruined me for anyone else that ever could.
Most days, I’m very good at seeing the past two and a half years for what they were: a learning experience. They were some of the happiest, most disappointing, hopeful and desolate times of my life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. It just worries me that my heart will never race again when someone tells me they love me for the first time. Even worse, I know that I won’t believe them.
