“Immature love says: ‘I love you because I need you.’ Mature love says: ‘I need you because I love you.'” — Erich Fromm
It’s 12:32 am. I slept late and took a long nap this afternoon. During that nap, I had a huge revelation about myself and my commitment issues.
What kind of weirdo has an epiphany while they sleep?
This weirdo rye-cheer
Dreams were playing long and involved behind my eyes. One would fade and another would pick up. In the dream, I remember vividly and that had the most impact on me, I was friends with Johnny Depp (Don’t ask me why him because I haven’t the foggiest idea why as I’ve never met him. I love his acting but I’m not a rabid fan). It was set in a restaurant with a theater above it. While I wasn’t involved other than knowing the huge family who owned and operated it, Johnny was very entrenched. He was so excited the evening I agreed to come see it and we had dinner with the family. The entire time I was guarded and working to not give much to the conversation or night, to not be caught off-guard. I was afraid to be taken for a fool by believing I mattered to or impressed them only to be thrown off-balance when finding out I didn’t mean a thing. I was actually secretly thinking that it was the best night of my life. His cousin was a young lady and we both were wary of each other, though her in a more amused way due to my serious”Don’t-fuck-with-me” attitude. She accompanied us on the tour of the building though I spoke very little and showed almost no emotion except for an occasional flicker of a polite smile or a word or two. As he took us up the narrow colonial stairway in his “Benny and Joon” top hat talking quietly but excitedly behind me, I glanced back and realized I was terrified of loss. I can’t become attached to anyone in a deep way out of terror, out of self-preservation. I was petrified to enjoy anyone in a deep way for fear of something ending it, of loss, of separation whether through death or a purposeful split in the roads. I was startled awake and profoundly sad. Not depressed, but deeply sad. Almost crying, I was stunned and unable to put words to how I felt and whether it was real and correct.
I detached, as I always do with incredibly frightening or painful situations. I dissociated all evening until I saw a post from a close friends wife. He passed away three years ago and thinking about him still aches for me. The false forgetting veil was pulled away and I was again, so sad. I kept back much of what I felt for my friend while he was alive out of fear, out of terror of loss. What if he thought I was crazy or a stalker/psycho? What if he felt I was smothering him (I can often feel smothered even if person isn’t doing something that is stifling). What if he smothered me and then I had to leave and it ruined the beautiful friendship?
Then my worst fear came true, he died.
I do this with everyone, and I do mean literally everyone. Even my children, I have to remind myself, are OK for me to be one hundred percent me. My phobia isn’t without reason, true. I have been hurt as all of us have been hurt. I have watched relationship after relationship for my parents, myself and my friends die and the loss has been almost unbearable. But all my hurts for some reason cemented my fear of loss perhaps more deeply than the next person for whatever reasons. I would rather have no one and be alone than lose people or respect…embarrassment is intolerable for me. To stumble or fumble socially is unbearable to me. The paranoid thought of the remotest possibility of being duped or made fun of has caused me to hurt people and to isolate me from other humans. There is a physical ache, a clenching of my heart, a pain so deep at the mere thought of the death of a close loved one, it is my worst nightmare. I honestly don’t know if I could make it through that kind of loss and I am in awe of anyone who has done so. The pain at the loss of Scott, and then Jeff, were drenched in tears and I needed medication for periods of time.
Honestly, I don’t know if I can reach beyond this fear, this knee-knocking-hand-shaking-heart-racing fear. I try all the time and panic ensues, which causes me to act even weirder. My parents divorce felt like my heart cracked in two as a little girl. The end of my marriage was horrible and I wish that on no one. One boyfriend left me and I couldn’t eat for days or say his name without feeling I had been kicked in the stomach for a year. Break-ups I initiated were as painful from guilt and the loss of a dream. Lost friendships I’ve gotten over, they feel like the ultimate loss, especially if betrayal is involved.
I’m trying folks. I’m really trying here. It was a stunning and heartfelt discovery. To know something logically isn’t the same as knowing something in your heart.
I know in my heart I am unreliable and unable to commit without extreme discomfort and fear. I hope I can do it anyway.
What a huge puddle of fucked up.