I haven’t written in ages. Haven’t posted anything on my IG or FB in ages. I’ve been in survival mode, slogging through my last quarter: writing papers, completing clinical hours, working full-time nights all in the middle of a pandemic. And then heap on political turmoil and my emotional reserves were depleted. 

I’m still depleted, to be honest, but the other night I was getting those reserves filled back up via family time, a girls’ night in, celebrating my youngest’s 19th birthday. A couple of interesting things happened that night: (1) I laughed A LOT, (2) my family asked why I haven’t written in awhile, and (3) there was a lot of talk about significant others.

So here’s the thing: I’ve been divorced since 2009. I’ve been out of my last serious (and toxic!) relationship since 2017.  I’ve dated here and there for a few months at a time but nothing significant. I’m a strong, independent woman: I am quite capable of being on my own, but boy, would it be nice to find a partner who cares how my day was … who thinks I’m a pretty cool person … who looks forward to seeing me/talking to me/hopefully smooching me.

It’s cognitive dissonance for me. How can I both be strong & independent and yet really desire a relationship with someone? And, in fact, I kinda wonder on some level why anyone would actually WANT to be in a relationship with me. I’m not the easiest person; this, I know. My family lets me know regularly what a pain in the ass I am! And I know that on some level it’s good-natured teasing, but there’s also some truth there.

I work HARD to practice what I preach: I work on my self-esteem. I work on being comfortable in my own skin. I work on being okay being alone. Having the feeling that I don’t WANT to be alone is confusing for me–and scary. Even when I was with G (the toxic relationship post-divorce), I was still on my own. He was not an emotional support unless it was convenient for him. I’ve gotten VERY good at being alone. Doesn’t NOT wanting to be alone imply weakness?

Because that’s how I feel. 

I feel weak. 

It’s not a comfortable place to be, but I’m working on figuring out all of these confusing, conflicting emotions. I know this is probably not an issue for most people. I guess my history of loss–mom, sister, brother, divorce, betrayal–have positioned me to like having people at arm’s length. That’s much less frightening. 

And it’s not just the not-wanting-to-be-alone thing. There’s also the question of how much am I willing to give? How much am I willing to take? I’ve been in abusive relationships, and I’m scared to death of ending up there, again. How will I know when to “draw the line in the sand,” so-to-speak? Will I hold to my boundaries? Will I recognize subtly controlling behavior? Even more than that, will I be able to allow for flaws in the other person without running away or retreating out of fear? No one is perfect; will I ever feel comfortable trusting my heart to someone or will I always freak out at the first sign of conflict? How will I know what lines cannot be crossed and which ones should be blurred for the sake of the relationship?

I don’t like this mental space I’m in right now. I’m on the cusp of graduating and starting a new job, and I’m finding it difficult to get excited about that. It shouldn’t be hard to get excited about that! I should be OVER THE DAMN MOON about that!

It’s all this creating the future stuff. New career. New place of employment. New feelings of desire/want. New situation at home with kids not around. It’s all new. None of it is comfortable. It’s all unsettling. 

I was hoping that by writing, I’d sort some of this stuff out; I usually do.  

I’m not having that experience today. I think, with this stuff, I’m going to have to just creep along, bit by bit, til I start to feel settled. That is not remotely appealing.

Now’s the time I have to do what I ask of my patients:

Put in the work; do the hard stuff; face uncomfortable feelings.

Honestly, if not for my job, I’d be a much weaker person. My patients keep me honest.

Gonna keep moving forward.

Begrudgingly and sometimes fearfully, but I’ll keep moving forward.