March 11, 2016
I’m back, y’all. Kind of. Because it’s not the me of like 5 years ago, or even 1 year ago because those me’s, can’t possibly surface again. And that’s good. After all, how terrible to remain the same after being gifted a really horrific, yet kind of needed experience. So at least as of today, I feel regular. Like old, old regular not the regular of the last six months. And slightly at peace. And I have my friend, life coach, energy healer, and personal Goddess, D, to thank for that.
For months she’s tried to give me the gift of love in spite of my insistence on being hateful and unaccepting of what is. I like how she is so determined to see hate as merely the absence of love. And today, it feels completely possible for me to look forward with love. Not the amorous kind that I tried desperately to find since puberty, but the kind that allows me to view others through a more universal we’re-all-in-this-together kind of love. I think I’ve spent my life giving or withholding love based on my life experiences and perspective.
So instead of seeing #3 as this hurt soul doing whatever he can think of to feel loved, I have looked at him through my own historically altered perspective; thinking that there is no way he could have ever loved me if he did *this* to me. And while I will not excuse his behaviors that have forever altered so many lives, maybe I can extrapolate from this as an observer and not a participant.
Dr. W, my eating disorder therapist, posed this question: Did your inability to stop engaging in your eating disorder change your desire to be a wife and mother? And of course my answer was that it absolutely did not. She then offers this possibility, could he then also desire to have you as wife and mother and companion while desperately filling his life and time with any quick and easy feel good? And I guess, he can. And that’s why for my recovery, it becomes imperative that I stop blaming him and victimizing myself.
I will never get the answers from him that will satisfy my broken mind. Nothing he will ever confess or say to comfort me will bring the peace that I need. He will never convince me that it wasn’t because I wasn’t pretty enough or thin enough or all around good enough. Not while I still manage to convince myself of that.
I need to believe that I am enough and I have to love myself so completely that anyone in my life couldn’t help but love me also.
He can go on trying to find the perfect woman to hang on his freakishly long arm, but if he doesn’t love the person that resides inside of his ridiculously handsome shell, she will never be enough either. Because if we truly loved ourselves we would never do anything that would jeopardize our future happiness. And also, this is why I’ll only date a solid 5 from here on out. Only joking. Mostly.