So I’m beginning to see relationships much like a chess[1] match. You have your opening strategy (Got that on lock), your middle strategy (Meh), and your endgame (Def lots of experience there!). I’ve become a master making out and breaking up, but I’ll be dammed if I can figure out how to conduct myself in a relationship. Actually… I think all but the opening strategy needs plenty of work. I know I’m preaching to the choir – Can I get an “Amen”!?
Lets start with I have some issues with self-care:
I don’t like to let go of my past often. Worse yet I tend to let it dictate my present actions. I’ll see an opportunity for a new method, but instead choose to go on autopilot – which, of course, it then bubbles to the top after a few too many suds. It makes me a real pain in the ass to deal with.
I have trust and abandonment issues:
I will ask who you are texting. I will get quite insecure if it’s your ex-partner. And rather than risk looking like a bitch, I’ll get drunk… then angry… then I’ll look through your shit. I’ll be looking for signs that are already staring me in the face, but I’ll be too ignorant to see it. At the very least, I’ll be in outright denial. Which makes me a real pain in the ass to deal with.
I have fruition issues:
In short time I’ll sow enough doubt and anxiety that eventually you’ll look for a way out. Then I’ll have the audacity to shift at break-neck speeds from hot to cold; blaming you for crapping all over my emotions; making sure every ounce of your stuff is waiting for you; taking pot-shots at you and your life – and not skipping even one opportunity to give you grief about something. Then when all is truly lost, and I’ve made damn sure I’ve driven you away – I’ll begin the self-loathing bit. Which makes me a real pain in the ass to deal with… but by now I’m no longer your problem.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
But what happens when you finally figure out the old ways of conducting yourself don’t work anymore?
Well, first off you figure it out a little too late. The first hurtle is sticking to your guns regardless. Everything about you will be screaming to go back on autopilot! But you don’t let it happen. Instead you go clean your bathroom which you’ve just now noticed is fucking atrocious and is likely an apt metaphor for the entirety of your recently deceased relationship. You choke, gag, cough and cry a bit… but you blame it all on the bathroom cleaner. Then you feel a little better; a little more in control.
Then you’ll want to reach out to your freshly ex’d partner. What. The. ACTUAL. Fuck??? That’s what you’ll tell yourself initially. Then you’ll reason with yourself about how you need to get this off your chest and she really, really does want to hear you insult her life choices and belittle her. That’ll totally win her back!!!
Right – So what you actually do is delete all conversations in text and email and whatnot. Then you sit down and write that email! And then another one! And another one!! You keep going till you’ve become bored coming up with (really less-than-) creative ways of playing on the themes of , “I was right all along” and “Gold-digging whore slut prissy little demon asshole who eats your heart and pisses your atrial blood” – all the while sending to the DRAFT folder. Eventually you come to realize that she an human somewhere under all that, and likely more human(e) than you at this current juncture. You’ll remember that you do love her. You’ll decide that, whether too late or not, it’s still worth respecting that love. You give her the privacy you previously denied her. Then you feel a little bit better; yet more in control.
Finally, that (insert method by which to cope/escape/self-destruct here) is looking mighty tempting. Don’t walk, RUN! Seriously… go for a run. A run like you’re being hunted by a Gold-digging whore slut prissy little demon asshole who eats your heart and pisses your atrial blood!!! Then run moar! Then go to the gym. Pump iron till you collapse (but in a safe manner… You’re still trying to avoid self-destruction). You’ll be too tired to abuse or hide. You simply won’t have the strength. You’ll see that shit happens… to everyone; that you, indeed, are not the center of the universe, and that you’re not the only one prone to horrible, fear-driven, just plain bad decisions. Then you feel better still; Really actually totally absolutely indubitably in control!
Now… what to do with the next 23 hours and 45 minutes of your day?
Wash. Rinse. Repeat. You’ll be alright.
[1] I lost the chess metaphor pretty early on. Sorry about that. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
Since I've Been Here 