I do not want to write this. I am greatly embarrassed for doing so, knowing that I am going to put online. But since I have, for the time being, deactivated Facebook, it is unlikely that anyone would find it and read it. So why do it? Because I have the smallest bit of hope.
The story of my time with my ex is an old one and has run its course. My walk out of that shadow was cumulated at Faerieworlds where I reconnected with a community and a practice. The entire weekend was great. But I need to back up a few months. During that time I went on some dates and contacted people via dating sites. I’ve made out a couple of times, with people I know and with complete stranger. I was ‘getting back on the horse’ as they say.
I met someone at Faerieworlds that was extraordinary. I will not go into details, but simply say that I was amazed at our connection, the heat between us, the mutual openness and attraction, the pulling, and more. We got to know each other and over the course of the next few weeks we got closer. Things heated up considerably. I told her that I felt love for her. I said the words “I love you”. I meant them.
Yes, I know the warnings. This was a rebound from my ex. This couldn’t be real. This was just hormones. This was my neediness. This was typical me, jumping off completely at the next available thing. But these voices shriveled away whenever I was near her, able to stroke her hair, felt the rise of anger and sadness when she told me her stories of her past, and more. There was no doubting this. This was love.
I was going to tell the women that have been friends with me the past few months, some of whom are likely wanting things to move into a relationship, that I was wanting a monogamous relationship with someone else. I couldn’t be dishonest with them. I had to tell them that I only wanted her. I would be home in a few weeks plus we hadn’t officially declared ourselves monogamous as of yet.
I harbor a deep, basic to my identity, belief that I am both ugly and unloveable. I know, emotionally, that if someone truly saw me then they could not really love me. Many times I’ve been told that I’ve been seen. Many people have told me that they understand me, see my essential nature. It cannot be true. So I have ventured, recently, to tell her everything about me, that she knows what she would be choosing. At first I was accepted and the connection between us was just as great as always. I drove away to another city to deliver training. I went to bed as happy as I could be.
During the next morning we began having a conversation which culminated in our taking a space for a while. While there was still attraction for me, knowing the things about me ran counter to that attraction. It was an opposite reaction to the pull toward me. I understand it to be repulsion. She needed some time to think, to understand how her thoughts and feelings could be so mixed up. She reaffirmed to me how strong I was, how amazing and beautiful I was. I did not feel strong. I laid on the bed, listening to her and offering sounds of support and understanding on the phone, while quietly tears streamed out of my face. Nobody was weaker than I in that moment.
I knew this was going to happen. We will talk tomorrow. I don’t know how I feel. She may come back and say that she will have found the thorn in her thinking, has uprooted it, is ready to be present with me. But I feel closed off. I imagined being with her this morning, and my interaction with her was changed. How can I touch her the way that I have, knowing that I am at some part, even a small part, repulsive?
I do not blame her. Her honest treatment and communication with me, her frankness and candor, has been night and day from the subterranean plots that my ex used on me. There is no tea leaves to read with her, no hidden meanings. She says what she means.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But this moment I feel like becoming a hermit from everyone. I’ve all but given up on the idea that I could fully share myself with someone. I’ve tried so many times in the past, and often have been found to be lacking and too… something, I don’t know what. I will often be with someone and make a great connection, deep and passionate, only to find out that I am too different, strange, challenging, ugly for the other person to be with. On the plus side, several of the people that have found it impossible to love me in a relationship have become some of my dearest friends. I keep sharing in the hope that someone will not flinch from me. I have the smallest sliver of hope that this will happen. And why do I share this? Because I cannot help but share. If I am to love it is to be open and honest and complete. I’ve worked hard, as evidenced in these entries, to get to this ability to do so. I share here so that it is a record of my faults and weaknesses. It is so easy for everyone around me to get the idea that I’ve got my shit together. Truth is I don’t. I am a novice in love. I am ignorant of its ways. I do not know how or what to do. I only know that failure is my norm in this regard. But I keep trying.
But, I’m 45. Perhaps it is time for me to fully embrace the hermit within me. Perhaps I can put the hope of meeting someone into instead the hope of learning something about human nature and giving it to the world.