FAKING a REALationship

I’m starting to figure out a good purpose for therapy.

Years ago and seven therapist deep I was complainin’ about my therapist telling me what I already know. “Oh, you are STARTING to think I have a drinking problem? What clued you inta that, the bender I’ve maintained daily for the past five years? Come on give me something else!” I’m not sensitive. In fact due to my alcohol consumption you could hit the attachment center of my brain with an ice pick and I’d go on eating cold chicken in the morning and downing a half gallon of milk before I start the day over again just like nothing happened. I want to know what my real problems are?!

Relationships. That sums up the core of my issues. Daddy issues, mommy issues, abandonment, out-of-controllyness, claw in man disease, push and pull-itus and a general feeling of unworthiness. I have a few ex-boyfriends and when I gaze back on these packaged time slots occupied by the men that were mentally ill enough to go down on my personality I see that most of them are wrapped and tied so tightly with string that they are unopenable. When relationships end for me it’s like the movie 300 (the guys don’t look as good). People are getting hurt, everybody is sweating, armies are formed, lots of screaming, elephants in the room and all kinds of lines are being drawn AKA they don’t end well.

…And now I’m trying to go back to one. Taking that string off the package of time apprehensively, afraid the contents might spring out at me. Half the time already I’m thinking it’s a gag and that he has ulterior motives. I found myself this weekend slipping into old patterns when he wasn’t answering my phone calls. A whole day had gone by and I was extremely busy, but when I had time to call, I wanted instant satisfaction.

Let’s expand on “feeling good” for a moment. Now obviously I like to drink. I like to drink, but nothing gets me as high as the joy I feel from being close to and spending time with someone I have feelings for. I get a complete heart on the minute I see a text come in from him and flowers start growing out of my veins. I’m repainting him through all the filters my brains photoshop has downloaded: the foggy, misty filter with shadowed edges, the he’s such a good guy filter, the filter that eliminates red flags, the filter that erases past resent and so forth. Then a day goes by and he doesn’t call and those flowers turn into venomous snakes. Photoshop crashes. My Chinese and Native American astrological sign is the snake. I’m also a Scorpio. On top of being DP’d by the year and day I was born the fact that I was exposed to many childhood trauma situations and you have a nice old snake basket to host the snake party. It’s not that I thought he was doing something bad or wrong, I just wanted my fix and became panicked by the thought that I might not ever have it again. I think this is called catastrophizing.

Did you know that if every time your lover calls you sound panicked and angry they don’t like it? Ha! Believe it or not, this took years for me to be able to see. And just this week I saw two angry girls from the outside doing this. It was highly entertaining when it wasn’t me. One of the instances I was in my room and heard screaming outside. What she was screaming was priceless. I looked out the window and saw a thick black male about nineteen years old walking with his hands in his pockets away from this white girl in denim cutoffs about the same age pointing at his back as he was sauntering slowly away “You’re never going to be with anyone as good as me! You don’t know what you have!” Of course I was laughing because he knew exactly what he had that’s why homeboy was gettin the hell out the way. Or maybe she was referring to an STD she had. That would actually be a game changer and a nice finishing touch, but I’m pretty sure she was talking about some unique love gene she thought she only possessed. The other situation I was at a bus stop and heard a girl yelling at her boyfriend. She was driving and he had been banished to the backseat it looked like. This chick was yelling, “I’m not crazy!!! I’m not crazy!! You make me crazy, that’s why I’m like this!!” Cough, cough. Yeah.

Anyway, I’ve gone through stages in relationships. For a long time I let my hormones do the driving and unleashed whatever craziness and reactivity that came up so if he wasn’t given me instant gratification I could at least light up those feelings like fireworks. Than I found booze. Both my relationships and my drinking changed the day I figured out that I could negate my reactivity and feel instantly good by just taking off and going to the bar. I had another shift in my last relationship when I started to express to him ways I felt and actually took responsibility for my feelings instead of saying “you make me feel like this” and “you make me feel like that”. It went something like this “I feel crazy when you work with other females because I hallucinate that you are doing all of them, pretty much at the same time all day”. Now his response was not that of a healthy male either, he told me he was happy to see me squirm. It’s good to take accountability, but its also good to know when someone else is out of place. So that didn’t work, but now we’re trying again.

My new conclusion is that I need a therapist as a buffer so I can freak out, hit the walls, squirm, feel insecure and all the other things I struggle with instead of having this preconception that in order to have a deep fulfilling relationship we should share everything with each other. That, I think, is something females hear a lot. In perfect relationships couples share everything with each other. This has nothing to do with dishonesty, this has to do with keeping your issues your issues. Yes, some things you should share, but the process of overcoming your demons is a personal journey. I think a lot of my past co-dependency came from wanting a man to share my demons. I’d meet the man of my dreams and shortly after the demon bus would show up like it was Mardi Gras and start busting tunes from the rooftop. Oh fuck yeah, we’re parking here for the next five years!

The things about our relationship that I like: the jokes, the banter, cozying up to him, cooking for him, listening to him make a sale and yell at the guy on the phone, watching him be a dad and the fact he sends me money when I need it all get destroyed when the demon bus shows up and skeleton’s pile out, all of them smoking cigarettes and slamming cupboards. I don’t need to do that. One thing I know is that the relationship is not going to stayed glued together any longer than it would if I wasn’t being a psycho.

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