I don’t write the long insightful posts anymore. I want to, but it’s not in me right now. I start them, but I never finish them because, oftentimes, they are just rehashings of the same things I’ve written about, which is not productive. Because of this, i have spent the last few months in a particularly introverted and introspective phase. I have been looking at all of this stuff, and I have been trying to deal with it.
Why do I need love? Why do I love those that will not love me? Why does this all hurt me so much? What can I do to change it?
I have also dealt with some of this in less than ideal ways. I mildly latched onto someone from my own history, whom I have known for years but has always just been around. Again, I knew nothing would come of it, but I felt that I needed someone to having feelings for, because I was hurting inside. There were a couple of very drunken nights were I found truth at the expense of what little dignity I had left. I pissed her off and creeped her out, but I think part of why it was her is because I knew that things would work out in the end, that they would go back to their old, awkward ways once I worked my shit out. And they are almost back there.
In the past few weeks I have finally, truly found that I am not ready. I saw it before, but I never understood it or knew it. It was always something abstract, but now it is concrete. I am still broken on a fundamental level. I still cannot love myself, not even a little. I actually quite actively hate who and what I am. I want it all to be different.
I also found that my attachment to women that will not love me comes from my unhappiness. I want, more than anything, to be happy. The reason I look to a relationship is because the only times in my life that I can remember being happy is when I had someone I cared for. My life outside of those scant few incidences is mired in depression, self-loathing, sadness, and anger. I have lived with depression all of my life, but the happy moments were those when I had someone. In them, I could find the love I can not show myself, even if they did not love me. I could see my love reflected in them, and I could be happy.
But this is not healthy for me. It is hiding from the issues. I’ve never dealt with my depression, just survived it as best I could, even when I almost could not. It has pervaded my life and run it for many years. I have put it off and tried to hide it at every turn. I don’t have a way to deal with it yet, but at least I am now aware of this.
All of this leads me to the knowledge and true understanding that a relationship will not solve anything for me, nor is it likely to be particularly healthy for me at this time. Knowing that does not make the pain of it less, but at least I know it. I still have the needs and desires, but now I can understand when they are misplaced and, more importantly, why. I still have no desire greater than a relationship, but I know that I need to put it away for now, until I’m in a better place. I don’t really want to though. It’s like giving up on your dreams. It fucking sucks.
So, now, I try to accept my current reality and figure out how best to deal with it; to fix it. I don’t know how, or even if I can fix what is wrong with me, but I have to try. There is a distinct possibility that the condition is permanent, and that I will never have what it is I desire most, but I have to try and put off that fear and focus on doing what I can. I have no plan. I have no idea of where to start. I just know I must.
I’ve been mulling over two thoughts today. The first is, where does one find these fabled ‘woman that think intelligence is sexy’? I’ve met all of two in my life, both of them this year. Neither was right for me. Granted, the first one almost took my virginity and the second one did, but still, I’m not actually looking for sex. What I want is a relationship and I know no woman is ever going to look at me and think ‘My god, I need that guy’. I just don’t engender that upon first look. However, I have always known that if the right woman sits down and talks with me, she very well may think ‘My god, I need that guy’. It’s the nature of who I am. I’m not ugly, just big. But being big limits the number of woman that will find me attractive. My intelligence does increase that number some, but it is still limited. I have the personality and intelligence that women want, but not the looks. Though I am working on becoming a smaller version of me, I will never be skinny or ripped. Who I am is a big guy, and that is how I plan to stay. I just don’t want to be this fucking big.
In the end, I know that my intelligence will play a big factor in finding someone, the question I have trouble with is how does that happen? For someone that ironically craves order and sees patterns in everything, it is very difficult to accept that meeting someone will be purely random and by chance. There are ways to skew that random, but it is still random. While I do love random and the non-sequitur, random in aspects of my life like love or day-today things bothers me. I can’t help it. I need some form of structure. I think that may b my biggest issue with wanting someone. I can’t really accept that it boils down to chaos.
This brings me to my next thought of the day. I’ve been talking about wanting and needing someone in my life for a long time, but why? Do I actually need someone in my life? Will it solve all of my problems and make me whole? The hard answer is, No. No, it will not. I do not actually need someone in my life. I’ve made it to 26 without anyone, I clearly know how to live alone. I don’t live as well as I could/should, but I can do it. I don’t need anyone to take care of me (though I did when I checked out of reality). My problems will not go away just because I meet someone either. They are not a cure-all and it would be horribly cruel to treat them as such. I am the only one that can fix myself.
In truth, I do not need someone, I just very much want it. That begs the question though, why do I want it? I can’t really answer that. Part of it is seeing how happy others are in relationships. I don’t think I’ve ever really been all that happy in my life. There are spurts of it, but it has been a very average to below average sort of life. Part of it also that the happiest times I remember are when I had someone I was talking with, though those talks rarely ever led to anything more than talking.
I’ve also put myself through hell by wondering if I would ever meet someone. It has been a central thought of mine since I was 13 or so and all of my friends started dating. The longer I went without having met anyone, the more difficult it became for me. I felt left behind. I felt… broken. Which is asinine. I was not lesser for having gone without. A relationship does not define who you are. You are the only one that can define you. But I have always missed that point. Even those friends that did not have steady partners were still out there hooking up and having sex. That never happened for me either. I was always on the sidelines looking in, waiting to get put in the game. I wasn’t though. While it did take me 26 years, I found quality over quantity. I also found that I am just not made for random hookups. I need something else there if I am going to have sex.
All of this leaves me with much to think about. I don’t think I could swear off the looking and wondering, but I think I can put it to the back burner and stop focusing on it. If it truly is borne of chaos, watching it and fretting over it will do nothing for me. Which means letting go of it for now will help me find peace with who I am and make me more ready for it when it finally comes.
I never really knew just how fucked up my mind was. I’ve been lying to myself for a very long time. As far as I know, the last person I *really* opened up to was Anna. She stomped on my fucking heart when I did it. Haven’t done it since, until very, very recently. Why should I have? If every time I let myself be vulnerable I was going to have my heart crushed, why the fuck should I be vulnerable?
Well, because there is no way to find anyone in this world if I’m not willing to be vulnerable. Yes, some of them will hurt me, but there will be one that never will. And she is worth all of the heartache I have to go through to get to her. I’ll find her and it won’t matter anymore. Not the one that laughed, not the ones that gave me snide looks, and especially not the one that told me I wasn’t good enough, because I’ll have someone that cares and she’ll be all that matters.
I’ve blamed everything but myself for all this time. I blamed my size, saying no one wanted to be with a fat man. I said I was just too awkward, that no one wanted to be with someone so weird. That I just didn’t know how to talk to women (partially true, I do have issues engaging, but that can be overcome). I said they were just using me, that they were bitches that wanted anything from me but love. That… a million fucking other things. None of them are really true. Yes, being big limits me, as does being awkward, but those are hurdles, not walls. There are those out there that don’t care.
In truth, it’s all lies told to comfort myself. The hardest truth is that while I pined for love and whined about being alone, I never did a goddamned thing to change it. Not really. When it came to love, I never opened up. I gave them what they wanted and hoped they would freely offer what I wanted. I never put in the effort. I never let them know what I wanted. I wouldn’t let them see me vulnerable unless they showed me they absolutely wouldn’t hurt me. Of course, they couldn’t show me that. I never gave them a real chance to. I assumed they would hurt me, so I did what I could to keep them from doing it.
I paid for that dearly. I’m now 26 and have never really let anyone in. I even held my friends and family back. I’ve been more open on the internet than I have been face to face. I’ll tell a random blog all about the shit inside me, but it’s hard to tell the people around me. I’ve internalized all of it and it has tried to destroy my mind. I’m still not comfortable opening up about it. It’s my pain and my shame and it’s hard to talk about. I don’t like to cry in front of people, but if I talk about this stuff, I will. I did when I wrote this.
I think that I’m more willing to open up now. I know it has to happen if I want to move forward. It’s a scary thought though. I’ve spent my life not letting anyone see any of it. Going out, putting on a smile, pretending it was fine. I know those that know me well saw through it, but I still had the veneer on. I still did everything I could to hide it. I also know that they could see there were things wrong, but I don’t know that they ever knew what.
Because I held it all in, it used to manifest itself in other ways. I used to cut. A lot. I tell people I don’t keep lighters around because I liked to set stuff on fire, but the real truth is I do it to keep from burning myself. I used to hold the lighter on or to a piece of metal and then hold it to myself once it was hot. I’m covered in scars. I used to have severe anger issues. There were holes in my walls. My knuckles are still fucked from hitting stuff. I used to hit myself too. Anything I could do to hurt myself physically. It’s why I wasn’t afraid to do stupid shit that would hurt me. Nothing I did to myself physically could hurt me as much as my mind already hurt.
Alcohol never helped either. I found the bottom of many bottles and never got away from the pain. However, alcohol could let me overcome myself. Sober, I have kissed all of one woman and that was 10 years ago. Everything else I have ever done has come well into a bottle. it’s still not much, but it was something, though it is bittersweet. Yes, I have done it, but I didn’t feel much. I didn’t remember much. I didn’t really enjoy it. Needing alcohol for that was not good though. It was a band aid to a larger issue. I am glad I never managed to lose my virginity drunk. I would’ve regretted that.
This all comes back to what they all come back to. Loneliness. This time though, I realize it was my fault. I drove people away. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t give me any knowledge of how to find someone to let in, but I do know to try and let them in when I find them. I still hope it doesn’t take much longer. I know I need to grow before I can be ready, but I also feel like I need it to be whole.
I will be dealing with some of this soon, in a very direct way. I will be doing something that forces me to confront many of my fears of intimacy. I will be going on a trip and putting myself out there. I do not expect it to end in pain, but the potential for it is there. It requires me to go far beyond my comfort zone. It requires me to be vulnerable. It terrifies me, but it also excites me. It’s been a very long time since I put myself out there. This will not be a trip to see Her, but it will be a trip to help me break out of the shell I have encased myself in. It is the next step in healing and moving forward and I hope it propels me far.
I still fear dying alone, but I do not think I will be the one causing it anymore. I still fear being hurt, but I realize that cannot be avoided if I really want to find love. I know few could hurt me the way Anna did. I have to risk it though. If I don’t risk getting hurt, I risk dying alone.