when people ask me if I'm dating...

Why in the FUCK would I ever want another fucking boyfriend. Another person to humiliate me? Yell at me that I'm a dumb bitch or a cunt? Break my possessions? Cheat on me and put me at risk for STDs? Ask for sexy snaps from other women while I am CONSTANTLY accused of cheating? Buy and do drugs behind my back? DO you know how many girls have told me that you would send them snaps of yourself naked in bed while we were together??? Asking them what they were up to that night?  And those girls told people, and it was this big fucking joke among groups of people- when was Brad gonna send another half-naked bed selfie, hahahahah. Fucking embarrassing. Each guy I've dated was worse than the last, and that's on me- accepting fucked up, weak behaviors and forgiving people when I should have walked away. Please move on because this relationship will never happen ever again; I have promised myself to hold and keep higher standards for the people that I allow into my life. Maybe someday we can be friendly, but I've finally learned a lesson.

 Getting better at this!

You still email me. I don't know why. I don't know why, after almost a year, you think I'll change my mind or come to my sense and be with you again. I don't think I was ever truly happy. I wanted a relationship because I feel stronger and more secure when I'm not alone. Standing on my own, as ONLY me, sucked.

Being in a relationship was something to be proud of. It shows a worthiness, desire, completion. Being alone was shameful, embarrassing, no one finding worth in me. My aloneness was a testament to my failure. I always valued love and relationships all my life- I was the girl watching the rom-coms, observing the princess being whisked away by a prince, listening to all the love songs, reading books that relied heavily on emotions, sentiment, sweetness, and candid, fun conversations between two characters who'd soon find themselves infatuated. 

Maybe that's why I have a hard time letting go. That's always been my point of interest- human relationships, especially romantic relations- it's what I gravitate toward. It's important to me to be important to someone, being reflected as valued and worthy and lovely. Of course, I could take the place of this external voice, pulling my sense of worth from the inside out and wrap it around me like a soft blanket or steeled shield. There's all types of love. Companionate love, platonic love, familial love, love from a pet (GOT THAT!), and self-love. So, in order to get through life being alone, it's essential that I learn to spread my idea of love and not heap it all into one category of ROMANTIC love. Sure, it's important, and I've experienced many romantic things, heard romantic words, that poetic, high-hearted experience of complete joy. 

Sometimes breakdowns can be breakthroughs. I've experienced this in my life. Especially because I tend to hide and deny my true feelings. I push myself into being a supporting character role instead of taking charge and honoring my needs, desires, dreams, and- frankly- my plans, for someone else, who may have the stronger will or a louder voice. 

In yoga, we crunch ourselves into tiny balls, thighs on top of chests, on top of arms on top of heads. A tiny ball of energy and life- but also, withdrawn into darkness. The next pose counters the tininess, as we open up our hearts, necks and throats ("chakras"), chests, and arms and explode into life and feeling and existence. It's says "I'm here, and I'm the main character in my story." The posture is a dreaded camel pose. This one is so much harder than the little ball of one. It feels nice being small and safe in that fetal state. Not moving, not seeing, not connecting, closed and contracted within our space. However, we need the camel! The camel pose brings forth effortful opening. It's so vulnerable that it hurts.  But there is honesty in doing difficult things. There is honesty in vulnerability. Attempting difficult things drives us into vulnerability without even asking permission from us! One simply leads beautifully into the other, a stretch and a contract, just as bird of paradise, an open and vulnerable "hello!" to the world, eventually leads us draped into our safe blessing of a forward fold.

Chest-openers, in general, are hard for me.  I err on the side of closed, withdrawn, reserved, and distant. It's more comfortable for me to be closed to vulnerability. Posturing myself as small to escape notice. One of my ongoing difficulties with having a significant other was having someone always observing me, noting my behaviors, providing generous critiques, and giving unsolicited opinions. My last two boyfriends were especially unforgiving in this way. 

But the more you practice this effortful opening, the uncomfortable posturing, the easier it becomes. It feels less strange on you. It begins to attached to you comfortably like a warm, buttery vest that's melted onto your body. The cactusing arms are dreamy and smooth. The back widens as you inhale your open presence. I once had a very wonderful yoga teacher who suggested sliding my shoulder blades down the back like two broken egg yolks. Broken and yet open. 

It's been two months now. Yes, there's fear and anxiety and happiness and freedom. I'm a home-owner, and with that, is another wave of strong emotions- but add in pride. I was sad leaving my little apartment, sad always at chapters ending, sad at a relationship ending. Brad and I have had many endings throughout the course of our relationship, which always added to the confusion, the tendency to keep a distance, and the insecurity of our fragile bond.

I've still be processing the break-up and the breakdown. As with so many things, I'm trying to really hard to understand since I got so very few answers at the time.

He's already being nasty online. I don't understand how he can profess to love me, and yet be so hateful and degrading and mean. I know it's him attempting to grasp at some kind of control over the situation. Being an asshole is safer than being vulnerable and embarrassed. I'm sure seeing pictures of me hiking, being happy, living my life, was difficult to see. I'm happy and having fun, doing something outdoorsy and healthy- which probably makes him feel small and insignificant. Which he isn't and will never be, but life was just easier without him. For me.

His comments only solidify the decision that I made. I don't know how someone can be so impulsive and immature, and he's 37 years old. Those mood swings. And I saw that he bought himself a truck. I'm trying to will myself into being genuinely happy for him. I know that he was wanting a truck, and he got it.

I think that he thought I would forgive him. That his using drugs, under stipulations of him not using it around me or his only using them when his back hurt, but I have to draw the line in the sand somewhere. Every relationship has improvements to be made, no one is perfect- but I was very clear on my feelings around the drugs. I said no. No involvement. He ignored me. Ignored my feelings, did not care if I got upset. I just keep winding it around in my mind- why would someone blatantly do something that upset the person that they say they love. I don't get it.

So.

I dated you for a year and half. And I see and experience these bursts of anger in you, some irrational accusations of cheating, calling me out for selfishness, choosing friends over you. With all of these accusations and anger, I recognized when you are going to blow up. I know what triggers it. I see the signs now.

So, I begin to evade people. I evade certain subjects with you. I hide my feelings a little more each day. I'm more protective of information that may lead to this emotion in you. I don't want to make waves or trigger any kind of anger. Because it was unpredictable, scary at times, damaging to me and our relationship. It often leads to us breaking up, in a hurtful way. I'll cry....everywhere imaginable. I discover things on your phone during this time. I see you still talk to certain women. Why stay in touch? Also, why stay in touch while I'm out of town? And why stay in touch when you know that it makes me uncomfortable and uneasy. I've voiced this. Even you have voiced this.

Despite these little explosions and continued relationships with women that you need to let go of, I moved in with you. I accepted the risk, truly believing that this could be good for us. I was rooting for this to work, banking on it, leading us into living together. I arranged everything. I accepted my responsibility, my piece of the argument, my defensiveness or accusations. I've never been a good fighter. But you're a pro. It's almost impressive how I can be led into it.

We move into the perfect place for us. I thought that this move-in would erase our past failures. I really thought it would heal us, be the emulsifier to our arguments. There would be no reason to not trust someone who you see all the time. No ways to lie to the face you see everyday.

However, it was a stressful summer. You had a lot of family problems, legal problems, personal problems. I somehow became the target of your anger again and again. I became your enemy. My mistakes greatly impacted you, and you totally believed that I would intentionally hurt you. It was almost every two weeks that we fought. Once we would rebuild a bit, then everything would get torn down by one of my genuine mistakes. I would pick my friends over you. Hide things from you. I locked you out of the house accidentally. Not invite you to a friend's birthday party. Leave you at the Nail. I told you a crazy story where I took a boob picture with my friends while on vacation, and that little story that I shared with you on a Saturday morning...became one of our biggest fights. I moved out for a week. I paid you $1000 to find somewhere else to live, but you didn't leave. For the first time in my entire life, I didn't want to go home. I was trapped in a lease when I thought I was protecting myself by having my name on everything. I didn't have a home because the person that's supposed to love me--only had the most terrible things to say to me or about me. I was called a lesbian, a stupid bitch, a cheater. I was publicly embarrassed while I played volleyball on two occasions. This was in June. We had lived together only four months.

I won't even get into the woman that he invited over to our house while I was out of town. I won't mention the women that he's asked for sexy pictures or snaps from. Those are just the ones that I have knowledge of.

I've been called a lot of terrible things...inexcusable things. I missed a flight, and I was accused of cheating. My volleyball games ran long, so I was accused of cheating. He remarked that I was dressing up more for work, wearing perfume and jewelry, therefore I'm trying to impress someone that I work with. When actually I was trying to impress him...because he'd stop calling me beautiful or cute or pretty a long time ago...

He's broken my phone, shattering the screen. He's broken pottery. He's turned over furniture. He's opened all of the doors wide open and left with no one home. He's thrown water on me while I tried to go to sleep. He's threatened to cheat on me, break the lease, move out, break up with me...more times than I can count. It's insanity. I'm finally doing this and getting out.

I feel like my heart has just...died. Is it possible for a heart to morph into a brick? To try and try and fail. Try and then fail. It's almost impossible to keep the faith in love alive. How do others do it? It seems like the hardest, most difficult thing in the world to me- to love someone. Truly love them all that they are, without wanting or hoping for change- but I guess there has to be a complementary element to it.

Brad and I complemented at one time until we didn't anymore. The relationship changed. And then my heart became a cold stone in my chest that sits so heavily. I went through a lot- we both did. I placed faith in our relationship, that we could withstand our own weaknesses and come out on top and stronger. But there has to be a will to do that. There has to be fight to do that. I used to fight for my relationships, and I fought hard, like "I'm NOT giving up, this is too special, too important to me..." With all of my boyfriends, really. I tried hard up until the very end. Until I lost my faith in that person and in us.

Brad (II) still wanted to try, still saw me as a special, most important person- enough to risk it all again. But I still had a lot of fear, a lot of uncertainties. I didn't know anymore if I wanted to keep fighting. Because what kind of future am I fighting for now? A manipulative, violent one? A large part of me stopped believing in him, that he would stay changed, stay better. I didn't believe the peace would last. Even when a small storm would hit, I jumped overboard to save myself- even if it meant swimming on my own. I felt like prey when we fight. I feared our fights. I've never experienced actual fear with anyone. No bullies, no abusive relative, no one. Before it would even happen, my body would tense, and I'd immediately want to just cry right there. I've lost my will, I've lost my fight. Doesn't feel like me.

to find out

Maybe he wanted her to believe that he was a good person and worth being with or fighting for, but he couldn't make it real. He couldn't will himself into being a real man because it's so far from who he was. It took too much to own up to mistakes. Even big mistakes. Even lies. He may have to admit that perhaps he was a bad person. If he admitted that he was wrong or that he lied or did something fucked-up, he would have to take responsibility for himself. And that requires being a man, being a grown up, being held accountable to a person, to a commitment, to an idea that you both want to make a reality. He makes an impulsive, stupid decision out of anger, drunkenness, or a "fuck it" attitude. He carries it out, satisfying his retaliatory side, feeling vindicated, victorious, and in control. Then, only once he's out of his anger with a renewed perspective and a desire for reconciliation, he's ready to regain that idea and get her back in his life. He covers up the bad deed by quickly pressing "delete." And it's gone. And he's instantly good again. And she doesn't have to know. She doesn't need to know. It wasn't important to him, she doesn't need to know anything.