Vulnerability scares me… it perhaps my greatest fear…to be seen… to be fully known, scars, flaws, and all… is quite terrifying. Some people may like it, but me… not so much. It somehow correlates while conflicts with my need to know that I matter. This issue, this fear of vulnerability makes me a walking contradiction, but somehow, it still makes complete sense.
I wrote this about two years ago around this time, for some reason it never published and sat in my drafts. I figured it was time to go ahead and publish it. This is about a very abusive relationship I was in as a young adult, thought it might be helpful for those who have also went through domestic violence to know that they are not alone and there is hope. Because I escape my awful reality of destruction and you can too.
Baby, its the roller coaster of us
(UP WE GO)
Breath in deep
Filling our lungs with air
Hold it there
(DOWN WE GO)
Preparation for the scream that comes with the drop
Then the blow that brings us back up to the top
Baby, its the roller coaster of us
(AND WE’RE UP)
The cycle is on repeat
Up and Down and back again
Its the playlist of our lives
(AND WE’RE DOWN)
Baby, its the roller coaster of us
Holding in the breath I never took
Releasing it all with the silent screams
(AND BACK DOWN)
They are muffled by your hands
You hands are choking the life out of me
Your fist swing as you once again affirm “your love” to me
Bruised and cracked and left blue
(AND UP AGAIN)
Baby, its the roller coaster of us
No matter how many times were there and back again
You are always sorry
You always tell me you love me
(AND WERE DOWN)
I find myself missing you and wondering if you miss me. I think about you quite often, wondering how life has been treating you. I wish you well and all the happiness. But mostly, I wish you would reach out and tell me you miss me, because I would reach back. My heart yearns to reconnect with you and catch up on all the time we have missed. I think my greatest fear is that you are not as curious about me as I am about you, but even worse, that you do not think about me at all.
Time has passed us by so slow and so fast all at once, its as if the days of our youth have blurred in such a manner, and yet, your face is still so clear to me. I do not fear the risk of sounding like some love obsessed creepy stalker. The reality is, I miss your friendship, you were my best friend. The one I trusted the most, the only one who knew my deep dark secrets that I hid from the rest of the world. You kept my words dear to your heart, you clung onto my secrets as if they were your own. We were connected in such a way that the lines of who I was and who you were, were completely crossed. Our souls not only connected, we collided, you and I. I do not think either of us ever expected to be forever entwined, tied to one another, but again, maybe this is all just one sided and it is only I left feeling as if a part of me is missing. You were the first and only person I gave myself away to emotionally, the physical barriers were never crossed but all emotional guards were lost to us both. You knew me and I think you still know me, and if I am honest, it excites and scares me all at once.
So I am left with my original thought, I find myself missing you and wondering if you miss me?
Sometimes I wonder if there is something fundamentally wrong with me. I am 28 years old and still remain single, completely unattached, no suitor in sight. While several of my friends (all younger than me) are either married, engaged, or in serious committed relationships heading towards the direction of marriage.
So I find myself wondering, what if there really is something fundamentally wrong with me?
I don’t believe that I am broken in a sense, despite my past history with my dysfunctional family and my destructive relationships, I am not broken. So I do not believe either of those to be the cause of there being something fundamentally wrong with me.
In all honesty I had that slow fear creep upon me during my growing up years that something was wrong with me. That I was incapable of love, incapable of ever having any significant, meaningful relationships. I mean I was not okay with any form of physical touch until I was 24 years old. It was more than just a simple fear of being touched, I had a full on aversion to any form of touch. I would literally cringe when anyone taped me on the shoulder or tried to hug me. It was worse if I was touch and I never saw it coming.
Some minor issues that I fear contributes to there being something fundamentally wrong with me:
- I am socially awkward – I have no idea how to start a conversation with some I do not know very well (believe me I have had a lot of practice and I am still horrible at it)
- I am very introverted – I come off as rude, distant, and cold – but that is not my nature or personality at all. Unfortunately, many do not want to make the effort to dig beneath my layers I hide behind.
- I am constantly afraid to be who I really am out of fear of being rejected or ridiculed for who I am as a person.
- I struggle with believing that I have anything of value or importance to say because often when I try to speak, many do not listen. I do know that many people value me and what I have to say and I am often not heard because I have a soft voice.
- It is easier for me to be a habitual loner – honestly, sometimes it is just easier for me to be left alone.
Honestly, the list could go on and on but I will end it with this last, most important one:
- Vulnerability scares me – connecting with people on a deep level is terrifying to me for a whole bunch of reasons that cannot be covered in one post and possibly not even covered in multiple post. Don’t get me wrong, I am vulnerable with a handful of people in my life. They know me inside and out, possibly better than I know myself, but it takes me at least a year in continual conversation and building relationship with a person to get to that place of vulnerability with them.
Another big issues in this area is that oftentimes I push people away and I have no idea why I do or realize I did it until its too late.
So, yes, I believe there is something fundamentally wrong me – I wasn’t made wrong or anything like that. I like who I am, I even love and accept who I am. I am just not naive to think that there is nothing wrong with me.
I can feel it in my bones. This longing, wanting, a needing really. It’s like a heavy emptiness weighing upon my chest. I find myself longing for the night I wish I could forget. Despite the pain that existed in those fleeting moments and in between those few choice words, and the chaos that surrounded us, I know that I was loved. In your own cruel way, you loved me. Sure, it was demented and twisted, and you were as mean as anyone can every be, but still the truth remains, I was loved by you.
Now I am left wondering if I will ever find it again. True love, but without all the pain that went along with it. I know real love is without all the pretenses. That it is without the fist that bruise skin, the bites that tear my body to shreds, and the kicks that break bones. If I am truly loved by someone, I shouldn’t have to always hide and tell lies about the bruises and scars that exist on my body. I know you loved me, but you never really loved me – at least not as a human being, I was nothing more than mere property you possessed, I belonged to you and there was nothing romantic about that sentiment.
Real, true love comes without all that mess that lies in between the words that aren’t being said. Yes, love is messy on its own accord, but it does not borderline on abuse. Love is simple. Love doesn’t cause you to find ways to allow you to become unattached from reality so you can simply cope with breathing, concentrating on the next lie you will tell, the next lie you allow yourself to believe.
I use to think that you damaged me, but it took years of recovery to realize I was already damaged when I found my way to you. The last little bit of hope I clung to broke when I met you. But in the years since, I have found my strength, I have once again become whole. I realize that I do not need you and I was nothing more than a bunching bag to you.
You are a hollow shell of a man and I sincerely hope you received the help you so desperately needed so that you never lay a hand on another women in a way that is nothing but loving, kind, and gentle. I hope you have learned since our time together what love really is, because all we ever had was what love really isn’t. I truly mean what I say, I pray you have changed and you have found healing from your own demons that haunted you from the abuse of your own childhood.
I know hurting people hurt people and it was a lethal combination when we united, two abused kids trying to reconcile something good out of the ashes of our past and our broken misconceptions of love. No wonder we self destructed in a matter of months. It was over long before it ever began. I never understood that saying until I met you, until I was destroyed by you.
I say all that I have said to say this, I forgive you. I free and release you from the destruction of our past that bound us. I have moved on, am still working towards moving on and I will one day meet and find someone who loves me for me and loves me the way I am meant to be loved. I sincerely hope the same for you.
Cheers to a life that has been lived, cheers to a life that has been survived, and cheers to a life that has hope on the other side.
I wrote this three years ago and never posted it! I have been afraid to post it, the fear of being known….
The fear of finally being honest with myself, finally seeing myself for who I really am and how I view myself and view the rest of the world through distorted hurt:
I have become somewhat of a hermit lately and I haven’t like it one bit. Its not who I am, I mean I like alone time, but I need to socialize. I spent some amazing time with a group of my friends last night and realized how much I need it and how much I miss it. I think I have been a little depressed lately, those who care about me have been pointing it out but I keep saying they are wrong that I am not. I realize today I have been in denial. I miss him, I miss what could have been, what might have been, mostly, I just miss being around him. It’s more than just the idea of him…
It’s embarrassing, but he has a self produced CD and it’s on iTunes, I bought it along time ago and sometimes I listen to it over and over again on repeat. It caused me to realize how much I cared for him and the fact that there was a great possibility that I could have grown to love him and vice versa.
I understand that this sounds insane and I have no idea if I have ever written about this wonderful man that might have been. I hate to be seen as scared or weak – but that is what I am. He came close to being vulnerable with me and I ran away from him and the situation like a scared little girl – who does that? I was like 24 at the time I think, grown enough to know better. Grown enough to realize I was an idiot a moment too late…
Its not like I am so weird stalker girl that I know this post is probably making me sound like. We were friends once upon a time, not super close friends that hung out all the time and talked everyday. No, we were the causal friends that honestly met only because we ran in the same circle of friends. I could count the amount of times I spoke to him on one hand. Some were pretty basic conversations, I believe we have only one deep conversation the entire time. But there was this moment, this moment will more than likely haunt me for years to come. I know this to be true because it has haunted me for the last four years (it will be exactly four years in Feb).
He stood there eagerly awaiting, waiting to grasp a hold of my attention to finish the conversation of all the words that had been left unsaid. I knew he was leaving soon, move miles and miles away to pursue a life and career that simply didn’t include me. I turned away from him in that moment, I ignored him and made it very clear no conversation would happen. Everything would be left as is, to dissolve away as if it didn’t even matter, as if I didn’t even matter, as if he didn’t even matter, as if the idea of us and what could have been didn’t even matter.
I’ll never forget the the glimpse of hurt I saw across his face as he turned away from me, I’ll never forget that once again I shut myself off and built my walls to keep the pain from coming in and penetrating my heart once again. I’ll never forget the lies I told myself as a source of comfort. Lies that echo to this day: we would have never worked, long distance complicates everything, he would realized he could do better, it would have hurt much more later rather than a clean cut… the lies go on and on.
And really, if I am honest with myself I can admit that I am so stupid when it comes to relationships and feelings because of fear. Mostly, I am afraid of my own feelings and allowing someone to get close to me. The very idea of opening myself up to the possibility of love and happiness brings about the horrors of opening up pain and ridicule just as well. Despite my years of healing and overcoming the reality of my disillusioned past, I still can’t quite shake the truth that love hurts sometimes, and most definitely people hurt people – it’s a fact – we all disappoint the ones we love most in our life. It’s a truth I never want to face or allow myself to experience, because I remember that I have had more than enough disappointment to last several life times. The pain of memory outweighs the ideas of longing and hope – every time. I cannot over my own self to be able to open my soul to another.
Its been three years and I still can’t let him go, still can’t help but see his face when I close my eyes. See the smile, hear the laugh, see the disappointment and hurt. Its like a nightmare mascaraing as a daydream over and over, like a horror film on repeat, wishing it would end – only to awake realizing it’s your own misery regret.
Truth: the idea of letting someone in deep enough to see all the parts of me, the good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly, and most scary the vulnerable. The real me.
I realized the reason I have never been in love, and always wanted to, is because I am afraid of getting hurt, and allowing someone to love you and loving them back is opening yourself up to not only be vulnerable but allowing them to hurt you.I grew up watching a destructive, volite relationship between my mother and father. Wondering how could you love someone and talk to them that way, yell and raise your voice for no reason, swing your fist and throw items with force to cause enough pain and damage to go see a doctor. To have a love and marriage based on the foundation of abuse and lies.
Like the rest of my siblings I do live in the fear of becoming like my father everyday, but unlike my siblings I live in the greater fear of becoming like my mother if I one day decide to fall in love, even if that man is nothing like my father. My mother was the real monster in their relationship, she was the monster in my sisters and I nightmares.I fear to become like her more than my sisters, because personality and behavior wise, I am more like her than the rest.
I wish I could say that I am done being afraid and done living in the shadows of who I might become or what might have been. But it’s a waking fear, it haunts me when I am awake, and terrorizes me in my sleep. How am I suppose to overcome, I know the best form is to take the leap, try to fall in love. But how can I do such a thing when my walls and fears keep any man from trying to keep close?
My best friend said the right guy will push past my walls and barriers and love me anyways, in spite of myself. I think that is just wishful thinking. Because my greatest fear is I am too damage to recover and ever have a normal relationship with any man. Far too damage to ever comprehend what love actually is.
Time heals all wounds is a lie and how can I learn to love myself when my own parents couldn’t even love me – that question has haunted me for over 10 years and this blog is the closet I have come to saying it allowed. It’s like if I don’t say these thoughts or fears allowed it makes them less true. In reality it just makes me more damaged than I already am.
I need to step out and live life and see what happens – I need remember that I am not who my parents tried to shape and create me to be. I have choice in my life and I chose to no longer be damaged.
Shouting out into the distance
The soundless void of the great abyss
The unknown that is far too great for man to fathom
Too wide, too vast…
The universe ever expanding and humanity become smaller and smaller
Yet, us mere humans, think we are the biggest and most important the universe has ever seen – reality being quite contray, the truth is painful
we are but a created thing, like everything else in this universe
however, we are the only created that is in image of the Great Creator – who is in all things and has made all things
And yet, knowing these simple truths
still has me relentlessly seeking the confounding, haunting truth
that we are so, so small.
We are so, so lost.
We are nothing special on our own.
But when we come together, when we unite from the span of many to one accord of sound mind and heart.
That is something beautiful!
And suddenly the void is no longer scary
The void becomes an adventure worth seeking
A life worth living
The wandering worth pursuing
I believe it is said best: “I want adventure in the great wide somewhere I want it more than I can tell.” – Beauty and the Beast