Companionship

I have planned it so that every night of this week will be socially active and busy.
I tell myself: "If I can get through this day, then I'll be OK."

And then later, I remind myself: "If I can get through this week without reminiscing too much, without having acting-on my overwhelming desire to reach out again, then I'll be fine."

I also adopted a dog this week-- his name is Mr. Z! -- and I could not be happier.  I've wanted a dog for a LONNG time, and leaving this relationship was the final impetus for turning my wish into action and investing my love, attention, time, and care to something/someone who will give it back to me in-return. Someone who will not hurt me, and who will instead, add to my day-today happiness and well-being. Being a 1st-time pet-owner/parent is also INCREDIBLY scary and therefore, fully distracted me from heartache, loss, grief, anger, and probably having a full-on depressive episode.

People say that dogs are like their sons/daughters. For me, Mr. Z seems to be taking care of me! I tell him about my heartache,  I confess that I miss the companionship of my ex-bf, and he I cry. True, I feed him, walk him, shower him with love and attention, but he really does give me peace of mind and a sense of companionship that I need right now. He fills a void in my heart and when I do talk to him about my pain, my loss, my sorrow, or even when I am thinking about these things in silence, Mr. Z. doesn't judge-- not that I can tell-- he just listens (maybe?) and sits with me while I figure all of this out, little by little.

I'm totally on my own but I do not feel alone with Mr. Z around.

It's over. I left him.

We broke up.  It's over.

I broke up with him, actually. After an entire year of living in fear and perpetual anxiety about his womanizing ways, I decided to let go of it all over the weekend and to say goodbye to him, permanently.  We were getting ready for a weekend trip  and the night before, while he was in his shower, I found out that he'd been texting another woman and that he was hiding it from me.

If I hadn't caught him, I would have never known.
Who knows how many more there have been in the past/present that I don't know about. 
What don't I know? 
How much don't I know? 

I cannot help but wonder if everything is a lie and that I have been simply living in his web of lies along with other women who care caught on a different side of the web. That night, I didn't sleep. I felt nauseous. angry. disappointed. sad. annoyed. I felt all the things I didn't feel when I had caught him a year ago.  And I had not been angry then. I had never been angry that the history of our relationship was full of cheating.

This is someone who was caught cheating 1 year ago -- via email -- with some woman he knew for only 48 hours and that he (and she) mutually professed love for.  He mistakenly sent the email to me (IDIOT) and then proceeded to cry and beg and apologize when confronted.  I was in such shock that I took him back the next day and following that, we went to couples therapy.  The day right after couples therapy, he did what I thought was impossible: he cheated. With someone else different from who I had caught online! That's right, he was seen cheating with another woman and caught red-handed by my best friend who thought she saw us walking together. When she realized that it was another woman that he was holding hands with, she called immediately to let me know; and he followed-up to provide more and more lies to cover up all of his already dried and crusty and dirty lies.

Sadly, I took him back 3 months later and began my self-isolation from all the people who actually loved me. It's been a year since then and a lot of heartache: perpetual fear and anxiety is what it's been. I cannot control what someone else does. I have no control over his loyalty towards me. No way to know what his intentions are, his thinking process, or his sense of morality and justice. None.

But I've thought that if I loved enough, was accommodating enough, then I could melt his heart so that he becomes... less pathological.

How wrong I was. How wrong I've been. How much time I've wasted.

The worst part of it all is that he does these bad things, yet I end up with the bad feelings.  His bad actions lead me to have self-doubt about myself to wonder:

 "why am I not enough for him?"

"Why isn't my love enough for him?"

"What is it about me that's not good enough that he needs more? Other people?"

"What have I done to warrant his repetitive pattern of cheating, lying, hurting, and betraying?"

Oh, and the mixed feelings that come with anger and hurt is grief! Grief and loss because I want love, companionship, unconditional acceptance, support.  And he is gone and I miss his presence. I experience his absence very profoundly in my heart. In my space. In my day-to-day life. And yet I know, rationally, that his role in my life has primarily been negative over the past year. But I do miss him. And I can't help but think I love him and want the best for him.

Oh, the mixed feelings.

Worthiness

Have you ever seen statements or heard people talk about feeling "worthy of being loved?" Especially in self-help books or in psychology, I hear that all the time... feelings of being worthiness especially when it comes to significant romantic relationships. I confess that it seemed like mumbo-jumbo to me! Talks of self-worth, worthiness, self-care, love yourself, all that touchy-feely stuff.  But recently, I've begun to realize that my feelings of insecurity and my fears of abandonment are all rooted in my feelings of worthiness.

Without even knowing it, my fears have played out over and over in my head:

"Am I worthy of love?"

"Am I worthy enough to be loved by someone?"

Before, I would have laughed these questions off and said "heck yeah! no doubt about it!"  I am fortunate enough to have come from an intact family with members who love each other very much. I have amazing friends who serve as my second family. And even amongst strangers, I can quickly develop relationships and connections that feel enriching to my soul.

But in a romantic relationship with my partner(s)-- past and current-- the answer is probably no.

I live in perpetual fear that they will leave. That their responses reflect some form/evidence of inevitable abandonment. Just today, my partner, let's call him B, called to see if we will see each other tonight.  I am currently swamped with work, but I did think about blowing it off to spend time with him (I've done that sooo many times in the past few years) before deciding that I should be rational for once and stick to MY plans.  Surprisingly, he was OK with it and proceeded to tell me who was next on his list to call.  Since I can't hang out tonight, he will find someone else. First, he will call his friend Nate! Or perhaps Dan! If neither of them can make it, he'll check out what Jonathan is doing!

My response? OUCH. 

Now let me be clear about something. I am perfectly happy to have him hang out with friends when I am unavailable. In fact, I am the one who encourages him to reach out to others. And the other thing is that I ALWAYS make myself available when he is "bored" or "wants to do something".  Today = exception. Today, I said no for the first time and I realized that he didn't even care that much, and that he even had a list to go down to find the next fun entertaining thing/person. His way of delivering the message or planning his social event tonight really bothered me.  It pulls out all of these familiar familiar feelings of feeling replace-able. Feeling like I am second-best. Feeling like a convenient play-thing that entertains him until the next next new shiny thing comes along.

I often feel this way: like a toy of convenience until something more fun, less boring, better, comes along. It doesn't help that he has cheated in our relationship, of course. But even before him, I have had inklings of these feelings.  They just happen to be in full-force now-- in this relationship.

So going back to feelings of self-worth...

do I feel worthy of being loved by a partner who accepts me unconditionally and who will choose me instead of that blingy, flashy new toy (that seems to be better to me in my mind)?--- NO. No, I don't. I don't feel like he will stick around long enough, or that he will even stick around once he realizes that I can't adapt to him.  I have this feeling that as soon as he realizes who I really am, he will run. Not even run, but he will want to get away from and never come near again. He will realize that I am not fun enough. pretty enough. exciting enough. I am not as adventurous as him. As feisty, perhaps. Whatever it is, I just anticipate being discovered one day that in some area(s), I am simply not good enough.

Time to laugh at myself now. Is this the reason I am in crappy relationships with partners who are oftentimes crappy? If I don't think I am good enough for the mediocre guys, can you imagine how great my self-doubt would be if I were in a relationship with Prince Charming?

Losing myself in this relationship

Is anybody reading this?

The worst part about being lost in my relationship(s) is that I have lost my identity and also my voice. I've lost my voice. What do I want? What do I need? What do I prefer? How am I feeling? These are such good questions because I haven't asked myself any of this in such a long long long long time.

Writing has been my attempt to have a voice again: to write out loud all the things that I haven't expressed and haven't known that I had. It is empowering to know that there is a space for me to have my own thoughts, beliefs, dreams, wishes, fears, and feelings. And if someone/anyone could benefit from my words and feel less lonely because they see that others have similar experiences, then that is GREAT! What more could I ask for? But mostly, it's for me.

Last week, I went to see my therapist and recounted an experience between my partner and myself. At the end of the story, she simply looked at me with sad eyes and gently said, "Wow. You have completely abandoned yourself in this relationship." 

In response, I vehemently denied her claim and argued that not only did I NOT lose myself, but that I have a strength and it's that I am good at adapting to situations. I have always been wonderful when it comes to adjusting my needs according to those around me and have always considered myself to be high on empathy and perspective-taking. I went on and on for awhile until I eventually stopped to realize how emotional I was feeling and how defensive I felt toward my therapist. Here she was, trying to help me see how lonely I've been, yet it became so clear to me that I was fighting her in the same way that I fight myself. I have adapted and I hate to admit it. I have adapted and now it feels like I can't go back. I have adapted and adapted and adapted sooo much and so many times.

• You want to sleep on my side of the bed? OK. I guess I can adjust to sleeping on the other side. It's really not that big of a deal.

• You want to re-arrange the furniture because you don't like it this way? OK. It's just furniture, who cares.   

• You want to eat 3 hours later than usual because that's when you're accustomed to eating? I guess so. I'm incredibly hungry and try to snack every few hours, but if you prefer eating right before bedtime, I suppose I could rearrange my entire schedule to cook at 9pm instead.

I have lost myself. I have said yes too many times and I don't even know why. It just came so natural at first and seemed so innocuous. But yes, I have lost myself. I don't know what my needs are anymore. What I prefer. What makes me happy. I may not have abandoned myself in one go, but I did it in little increments, until I've strayed so far away now, that I don't know where to find myself again.

Redefining goodbyes

Recently came across this poem that feels so empowering to me. Thought I would share:


Letting go
(Author unknown)


To "let go" does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can't do it for someone else.

To "let go" is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.

To "let go" is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.

To "let go" is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.

To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.

To "let go" is not to care for,
but to care about.

To "let go" is not to fix,
but to be supportive.

To "let go" is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.

To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their own destinies.

To "let go" is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.

To "let go" is not to deny,
but to accept.

To "let go" it not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings, and correct them.

To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires
but to take each day as it comes,
and cherish myself in it.

To "let go" is not to criticize and regulate anybody
but to try to become what I dream I can be.

To "let go" is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.

To "let go" is to fear less,
and love more.