Denial – It’s Not Just Limbo Anymore — REVIVED

An August 4, 2014 Revival.

In college I dated a guy who was obsessed with preaching that “being happy” was a stupid goal. In interviewing me for the position of His Girlfriend, he asked me if I thought I deserved to be loved by someone else. Although now I look back at that with condemnation, at the time, I suppose he was just projecting issues from former relationships.

But, it always stuck with me. Since when is believing you deserve to be loved a prerequisite to relationship status? In fact, I believe this question comes from laziness of the purest form: if you ask me if I am worthy of you and I say “yes, I believe I am,” then you can hold that against me whenever I need reassurance in the future, forever, and ever Amen.

Of course I’m conflating two issues. The first is that our partners have become lazy. We date people who expect us to maintain our own emotional needs so that they can go on with their lives without worrying about us.

The second is that happiness is not something to be desired. I’ll never know what that old boyfriend wanted out of life in place of happiness. Although I could just ask him, I no longer care enough about his opinion to bother.

The thing is — for all of my anger — I am a remarkably happy person. There are things that are awful that happen in life. Accepted. But I’m happy. I’ve never been less than grateful. I’m privileged and well loved. I have had opportunities others haven’t. I can make decisions for myself.

My problems only inflate when I look to others for recognition or acceptance/approval. For example, I had been accustomed to doing something that no one I knew thought was acceptable — as this post is a revival — and I’m owning my self-harm — in talking about cutting. It made me feel better (and still fucking does), every time I engage in it. I was taught that this behavior was unacceptable and would have “serious consequences.” So I did it better. Secret-er. (Sic.) Guess what. I still feel better when I do it and there are no consequences. But when it peaks beyond it’s secrecy, I can become ashamed. And I ponder over this. I can’t not care. It’s not in my DNA.

So why do we lie to ourselves and pretend that the status quo will suddenly, out of nowhere, make us happy? I myself advocate that I shouldn’t care if my boyfriend(s) have thought someone else was beautiful when they hadn’t told me I am in…as long as I could remember. But you know what? It still felt shitty to hear it. I still cared…and I resented that tremendously.

First of all, because I’m not here to be pretty for anyone. So, I hate that I feel bad about not feeling pretty.

And second, because — damnit — I’m not a robot. I have feelings. I want to be maintained. And I expect my loves to read my very intricate and perfectly logical/emotional mind.

Let’s be clear:

1. I simultaneously do and do not care what you think.

2. I want to be loved and happy and I want to create those things for myself. Your disapproval or detrimental commentary makes me violent.

3. “Justified” is the best television show you’re not watching.

4. I get to determine what makes me perfect – and you get to determine what makes you prefect.

5. If I’m worthy of anything, it’s self-love. No one else on this planet gets to define, outline, suggest, or ANYTHING otherwise – that I could be better “if….” And that goes for you, too.

Feeling numb – by your own hand – only works to some extent. It’s helpful in getting by moment to moment. But really. When you wake up in the morning and face yourself…the numbness is gone, and getting it back won’t fix a thing you have in front of you. I have always believed I’m my own worst enemy. But it scares me that I could be someone else’s as well.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s