Permission to be myself

Given how intense my emotions have been, I decided I needed some good self-care and contacted my therapist for some tele-therapy.

I felt so much better after that conversation. My therapist, Angel, let me cry, voice my frustration without judgment, and then she helped me contextualize my feelings. She helped me understand why my reactions have felt so explosive, and to see its connection with deeper-rooted issues.

1. I miss my family, period.  And no matter how unfair it is that I'm putting it onto Jay (or even other friends), the fact of the matter is I feel displaced and I'm looking to fill that void and establish that connection everywhere.
2. I am an organized person that needs a lot of clarity. People communicate differently and it's OK to ask people for more details. Ask! Putting myself out there to have my needs met is better than preserving an image and restricting myself until I can no longer handle having my needs be minimized and I explode with questions. But I'm scared of asking.
3. I have made a lot of sacrifices (consciously or unconsciously) and am trying to understand if those sacrifices are "worth it." I'm trying to understand if my decisions (e.g., moving here!) are the right decisions. I'm unsure, scared, and fearful of past, present, and future decisions I have to make and the sacrifices that come along. For example: Would I choose to permanently stay here because of my relationship with Jay?
4. I adapt easily to accommodate peoples' wants, desires, and preferences. I can anticipate ahead of time what they want and mold myself accordingly. Consequently, I haven't been able to "be myself" in any circumstance. Not professionally, not in my romantic relationship, not even with friends given their overlap with my work. 
5. I live in constant fear of being rejected. I am terrified that something ugly about me will be discovered and I will be abandoned-- with no explanation. That's how my 1st relationship ended and I have since held-on to the assumption that there is something inherently "wrong" with me. I don't know what "it" is, but it's the only thing I can explain for when I try to understand the sudden break-up in my first relationship.

At the end of our session, Angel asked me to think about my life history and to recall when I've had permission to be myself.

Permission to be myself? 

100% me?

Her question stumped me and I realized that I have never felt like that was a possibility. Bam! 

I hadn't know that was how I lived my entire  life. I hadn't known that everything I know about relationships is how to compartmentalize and show only certain parts of myself with particular people.  It's no wonder I have a gajillion friends and yet still feel lonely sometimes. I can adapt to any social group I want and it's because I can identify with certain aspects of people or a group of people. 

But ask me if I've been able to be completely, wholly 100% of myself in a particular group or even with one friend?-- and I don't know if I could say yes to that question.

I don't think I've ever felt like I could be 100% of myself with my parents, either. Definitely not my father, and probably not my mother, if I'm being truly honest. Wow.

Re-experiencing friendships

I ended up going out with friends the other night-- friends who know my first love. It was fine, actually.  It was fun, surprisingly! I made a purposeful effort not to a) think about Robert or to even b) associate those friends with Robert. For the first time, I simply enjoyed going out with these girls, and I actually allowed myself to think of them as being more than just Robert's friends. Suddenly, they became more multidimensional-- their identities, their experiences, their jokes, etc.  The world seemed more multidimensional too, and it wasn't only about relationships and heartbreak anymore.  It was about their life experiences, job experiences, our dynamics in-the-moment, and our collective memories of high school and life ever since.  I think I can like them now... now that they are considered to be so much more than just my ex's friends.

Long visit home

I am getting... anxious. I am going home for the holidays soon. I've never gone back home to see family so frequently. But it just so happens that my schedule is more flexible this year and because I have interviews back there-- that I will be in my hometown for approximately... 3 weeks.

3. weeks. Gahh! The anxiety has been creeping up on me these days because I haven't been home for so long. It's true, I do feel like I "ran away" after Robert and I broke up. As it was, I lived across the country attending college. But I took the next step to study abroad (which I already wanted to anyways). If I’m honest enough, I can admit that part of the reason did include running away. I simply didn’t/don't know how to live in the same suburb with someone who is 5 minutes away and yet has purposely chosen to cut-of-all-contact from me. So, in addition to wanting to see the world, travel, and study, I thought to myself: why subject myself to the torture of being so close when I can also flee the scene?

So, I have fled and fled and now I may be back there for the next year. I’ll certainly be back for 3 weeks starting next week. In the upcoming month, I imagine a ton of journal entries delving into grief, loss, letting-go, and heartaches. Ugh.

"Everything I do, I do for you"

Awww, how romantic: "everything I do, I do for you."

NOT!!

How unromantic.  How crippling! How co-dependent!

These days, I have very negative reactions to statements such as these.  Why does our culture (societal) promote such co-dependence in romantic relationships?  Why do we romanticize losing yourself in a relationship and possibly foregoing our own goals so that our only focus is on the other person?

I am resentful of these kinds of "romantic" messages because I fall for them.  I subscribe to them. And I am a loyal believer in them. I've been a romantic since I was a kid! And I continue to adopt this way of thinking even though I'm trying to tell myself "I should know better..."

As I prepare for interviews these days, the reality sinks in that I may be moving back to my hometown for my next year of my training.  And while that is exciting on one hand (because my family is there), it is heartbreakingly depressing because I always envisioned myself back there with my first love.  I always envisioned returning to be a reunion for us.  I hadn't expected to go back and be... alone. I suppose if I were dating someone else, I wouldn't be feeling alone.  On the other hand, I suspect that even if I were with anyone else, I would still feel a twinge of nostalgia and sadness that it's not him I'm with. When I'm home, I can't understand why we're not together.  But when I'm on my own, away from my hometown, I do pretty well for myself.  It's like I'm a different person.

How can I explain it? There's something about being far away that makes our breakup acceptable. Yet when I'm home for the holidays, not being together feels... wrong.  It feels unnatural. So when I go home for the holidays, I get anxious, distressed, impulsive, compulsive, obsessive, and unable to understand why we are not together.

"Everything I do, I do for you." Years ago, I thought that the only reason I'd move back home was to be with Robert.  But I guess I'm doing it for me now.  I guess I'm doing it for my family too.  I don't know.  It still feels unnatural and I have to remind myself not to purposely mess up because I'm so terrified of being back there alone and without him.