I feel enormous guilt for burdening my perfect children with a father who doesn’t want them, a grandmother too abused to fully show the love she has for them, three dead grandparents, and an undeserving substitute.
How do I move forward and create a new story for them?
I told him I loved him that I worshipped him that with him I was in absolute rapture. It was…Portuguese love a la Teena Marie.
Through the months we made French love and the German love–didn’t hurt, not really. And if I’d been a boy, you could say we made Greek love. But in the end the only kind of love he wanted was English love–you know, Shakespearian.
The kind of love he’d had with her.
Everything I focused on this year happened! I was successful with the things I fully believed I could do and those things I didn’t believe I could do–well, I was equally successful, in not achieving them.
Over the years I’d developed a strange relationship with men–one focused on co-dependency. It’s a role I’m very good at and it’s a behavior that ensured I’d terminate the relationship, after I’ve proved that I’m a victim and the men are perpetrators.
While I don’t really understand why I choose dependent men, I understand I can model my behavior and set boundaries so that I’ve a better chance at creating more successful relationships, including a more successful relationship with myself.
After reading Lost and Found by Geneen Roth, I thought of how I could change certain tracks in my life story by changing some ingrained beliefs, even if it means making myself very, very uncomfortable. The track I’ll change is the one that says romantic relationships don’t last, or if they do, the people in them aren’t happy, or if they are happy it’s because the people are somehow special.
Despite having had some really great relationship experiences, I’d constantly focused on the bad experiences and sabotaged future interactions. By ignoring the good I’d doomed myself to relationship purgatory. I now realize that to move forward I’ve to replace the bad memories with good ones, daily.
While, it’s true old habits are hard to break, it’s also true that practice makes perfect. I plan to practice in the quiet hours–the first few thoughts in the morning when I awake, and the last few thoughts at night before I sleep.
You know why? Because everything I focus on happens…
I love simple living–it is the exposure to vulnerabilities that I loathe.
Lovemaking to me is like getting my food from an organic farm–gourmandizing is sublime.
Sex on the other hand is like getting food from a factory farm–quite bland, and I take a pass on it almost every time.
Boy George once said he’d prefer a nice cup of tea to sex. Now, I’m not saying I can sublimate the urge completely… but I understand.
Any one who’s ever been in love can attest to the power of attachment. It’s easy to understand, after all our first attachment occured as babies to our mothers. Attachment–a feeling that bonds a person to another creating the desire for repeated interactions with that person, can be a source of intense pleasure, or as in the case of unrequited love, great pain.
Although this hasn’t been the case for me, a person can also be attached to things. Three years ago, when I relocated from MN, I left behind a house, all of my property with the exception of a few select items (a bed, my children’s favorite toys, and cooking utensils.) Yet, despite a decade’s worth of accumulation, I haven’t missed a thing. Or when I think about the sales process involved in the car I purchased today, and Jose the salesman’s futile attempts to get me to view this vehicle as something other than transportation.
Me, I’d get attached to people. In the past, I’d experience this intense desire to be welded to lovers, or cool people I’d just met. I mean like become an integral part of their lives. After all I’m a fixer by nature and I could so improve their lives (while putting mind on hold.) In retrospect, it all seems quite silly and a bit desperate. How draining these interactions must’ve been for those involved.
So nice, this being able to look back detachedly.
My name is lovelydated and I’m a co-dependent. Recovering co-dependent, really. A co-dependent is roughly defined as someone who values a relationship more than themselves. Despite spending a greater part of my life suffering from sub-clinical levels of low confidence, I was nonetheless, surprised to learn that my co-dependent tendencies were rooted in low self esteem, probably originating from childhood. Given these descriptors, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that we are legion, albeit with unique variations.
As background, I’ve experienced serial romantic relationships with men who on the surface couldn’t have been more different; camera man, investment banker, multi-specialty surgeon, rich man, poor man, beggar-man, thief, sensitive, arrogant, family oriented, narcissistic…the list goes on. The relationships followed a predictable pattern–me doing everything to please a modern day Oliver Twist (i.e. the dependent partner) who kept asking for more, in re-entry rhythm fashion–with similiar dire results. After a while, I could no longer deny that the common denominator in all the relationships was me. When I complained to a friend that I was a magnet for dependent-type men, he said, “Um, no hon–YOU are the one choosing the men.”
What I’m learning as I continue dating myself, is that to love others you have to first love yourself. And to love yourself you have to be willing to walk away from the ones you love. It’s about setting boundaries.
The struggle continues…