Wednesday, June 21, 2006

I Suck at Relationships

Seriously, I do. I suck at relationships worse than Jennifer Lopez, worse than Liza Minelli. I SUCK.

My boyfriend (of five months) and I have been going through a rough time lately. It started with me feeling like my feelings for him were lessening, fading, disappearing. Dealing with this hasn't been fun at all (poor guy).

So after MUCH soul-searching and talking with friends and journalling and singing to myself on the subway and crying, I FINALLY spoke with my therapist and got to the bottom of the real problem: me. She says the situation I described to her doesn't sound like it has as much to do with the guy as much as it has to do with my fear of intimacy.

Oh.

Have I mentioned that I've spent the past 24 years breaking up with almost every single person I've ever been romantically involved with? Have I mentioned that I can look back on some very valuable relationships and see exactly the point at which I gave in to my terror of intimacy and sunk the whole thing? Have I mentioned that I'm 39 and I've never dated anyone long enough for the relationship to even approach a healthy, loving, stable state?

It's me. I knew it. It's my extreme fear of intimacy that is screwing us (me) up right now. I'm terrified of being loved, of being needed, of being adored. I can't stand it. That's why I've flushed every romantic relationship I've ever had, flushed them ALL. It's not that I haven't met the right guy. It's not that I have high standards. It's not that I have bad luck. It's not even that I'm an idiot. I just have such an extreme fear of being suffocated by someone's love that in 24 years of dating, I have yet to even be a decent girlfriend.

It's ME. I'm a spinster because my mechanism for love and intimacy was %#&!-ed up long ago, so long ago it has sabotaged every close relationship I've ever had, including most friendships (I rarely even stay friends with anyone for more than a few years). I seriously, seriously suck at relationships, it's official, it's been identified by a professional.

All right. Now I can get on with the process of pulling my current relationship out of the crapper and forcing myself to grow the hell up because if I can't make this thing work with this guy who has more patience than a ballot counter and a heart that's bigger than Oprah's dry cleaning bill, then I can REALLY just give up on myself. Once. And. For ALL.

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