My childhood was a mixed bag. I had supportive grandparents, a mother who loved me, and some fun times. But the age was also marred by the abuses of my father who neither liked nor wanted me around. He made his disdain known in plenty of ways: asking for just my sibling when coming to pick us up, showing aggression and hostility at my kindness or confusion to his behaviors, and of course his dismissal of my feelings and lack of responsibility when he would traumatize me. Being in his care was a dangerous thrill. I never knew if I’d have a fun time from the lack of rules or, well, come out of the visit traumatized. I knew I wasn’t truly safe with him. I knew he didn’t love me. But I could never place why. Why was this treatment my fault? Why did I deserve this neglect and hate?
I know now all of this is not my fault, but the effects have haunted me much of my life.
When I was twelve-thirteen, I had the best year of my life. My dad left my life a year or so prior, I was excelling in school, tons of friends had come to my parties, and the boy I liked liked me back. Our courtship was short and sweet. We were in the same core in honors, I’d talk to him on my rounds at lunch, and he gave me a chocolate bar at my Valentine’s Day party. It was all going so well. He finally asked me to be his girlfriend and I gave him an enthusiastic “yes” over AIM. And then he closed the conversation with “I love you.” I froze. I didn’t know what to do so I just said it back. I was freaked out the whole evening as well as the month or two where I avoided him though we were “boyfriend and girlfriend”. After an awkward walk home with him and a friend where he helped me carry my woodshop project home and a love letter so kind and earnest that it made me feel worse, I ended things. He tried to figure out why and we had a very tumultuous eighth grade relationship that resulted in me poorly trying to explain to him how my father hurt me and that’s why I hurt him. He was gracious but it was too late. I had ruined things.
I think I felt so uncomfortable because I felt I didn’t deserve his love. This kind, smart, attractive boy loving me? I thought people would think we were an odd couple. I thought I was too hard to love. Really the issue was how could anybody love me when I don’t love myself?
I have been struggling to love myself, to trust myself in emotional affairs, for years.
In college I entered my first real relationship, an adult relationship, and at first it was great. Fun to be wanted. But after awhile he stopped wanting me around so much. He needed space to be with his friends, to talk to other girls. We’d fight and break up and fight and break up. He didn’t respect me or love me, though he claimed to, but I was willing to stick it out because, in his words, I’d become dependent on him. I really didn’t know what it was like to be in a healthy relationship, so I thought I should stay until I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I saw an out and broke the cycle.
I haven’t dated seriously since. I will not go back to dysfunction and I’m still in the process of healing. I don’t know that I love myself yet but I care deeply for who I am and what I bring to the table. Capabilities aside, I am caring, resourceful, witty, and worthy of love. Maybe if I say it more, write it more, I can feel it more.
Right now, I know therapists tell me that but it feels like empty words. I don’t trust them because I trust experience and experience has taught me that I don’t deserve love. I don’t know what to do with it when I have it and it’s a cruel joke when I think I have it but I don’t.
But I know love. I love my friends. Some have left or betrayed me but I have always felt the love of worthwhile friends.
I love my mom and grandparents. Life is difficult with them but much better than any alternative and I know and can feel our love.
Maybe no one will ever romantically love me, but I have lived a life full of love and will continue to do so.
I just need to bring it on home.
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