So, I started following a blog by author Nancy Verrier, M.A. It has been extremely difficult to read at times as I can identify with so much of it.
I’ve come to the terrifying conclusion recently that I just cannot form happy, healthy, fufilling, intimate relationships.
I was relinquished at birth and spent the first 4 months of my life in an orphanage. I was considered a difficult baby and when my adopted parents visited the orphanage my caregivers tried to discourage my adopted parents from taking me. They explained how I constantly cried and after trying unsuccessfully to console me they had basically just left me in my crib to cry. My adopted mother would retell the story throughout my early years of how she knew I was the one when the moment she picked me up I stopped crying and fell asleep in her arms.
As an you g child I recall suffering from major separation anxiety. I truly believed my parents would leave and never return. I’d immediately begin panicking and crying. They labeled me difficult and I felt their resentment and disapproval build each and every time I was to be left with a sitter.
I bonded with my mother eventually I suppose, she always made me feel loved and adored. I’d wake I the middle of the night screaming and crying, terrified that I’d been left. My mother would come to me, hold me close, calm me and I’d spend the remainder of the night snuggled up close to her in her bed.
But the years that followed were a living nightmare for me, a nightmare that I’ve yet to fully recovered from. At 12, on December 7 as I was looking forward to spending the holidays back home (I was living with my aunt and uncle at the time as my mother battled cancer) I lost my mother, she had succumb to stomach cancer. My only safe place in the world was gone.
I acted out after she died, not knowing how to process the inense grief and loss I was experiencing and my father, who had never really been involved in our upbringing threw me out on the streets of Los Angeles.
All I remember about those years, from 12-18 is feeling numb and dead inside. I’m not quite ready to openly share what transpired over the course of those teen years as its still too raw, but it was ugly and frightening and traumatic.
Since those early years and as I approached midlife I recognized that the only way out of this place of deep, constant grief was to do the hard work. No one could do it for me. And that’s where I’ve been over the past 10 years.
It’s exhausting on every level for me as those old demons of abandonment and rejection continually try to rear their ugly heads whenever I try to get close to someone. I recognize that it would take a very strong, patient and compassionate man to handle me and my fears without running as fast and far away as he can. Thus far I’ve not found such a man. I don’t blame men I’ve dated, how can I expect them to understand something that I don’t even understand myself half the time?
I can’t ever seem to fully open myself up to a romantic partner, I always have my guard up, my walls so high any man would grow weary of continually trying to climb them.
And then there was the one and only man that I met, the only other human being that I allowed in completely, the only one who felt like home, who i compmetely trusted, my safe place. I sabotaged that of course because the fear of losing someone who I loved so openly and deeply was just too overwhelming.
Quite honestly I’ve come to the painful conclusion that as hard as I try, as much as I fight, I am just too wounded. There’s a grief that has followed me my entire life that just won’t ever leave. I have moments of strength, but those moments come when I am alone. I think maybe some of us are better off alone and I’ve come to terms with that.
I have my home, my children and a life that carries potential. From the time I was a little girl I dreamed of meeting my other half, the one I could be completely myself with, who understood me and I him, but I’ve come to face the reality that that is a fairytale that won’t ever happen for me.
I’m not sure why I was brought into this world to be alone, but it’s all I’ve ever really known and I’m too tired to hope for some silly fairytale anymore.
I must build a life for myself now that is fufilling and have almost come to a place of full acceptance. It’s just easier this way.
I’ve reverted back to a life of solitude and find fulfillment in expressing my inner world through writing, painting, photography and creating beauty. It’s a journey home to myself and I’m begining to really value and appreciate it. It’s not all that bad really.