Got to thinking about myself this afternoon. Who am I, who/what do I love...who loves me? I know, that seems like an awfully inward place to set up camp...but it forced me to look at things I don't normally look at or see.
Primarily...I see that I must suck at relationships. The people in my life...which consist of people who pretty much have to be there--my sisters, my husband... I don't think I invest enough emotional energy in them to make them understand their value to me. So maybe I reap what I sow.
But, more than that, I see that I don't ask THEM to invest emotional energy in ME. I don't ask for strokes or praise or attaboys. I spend all my energy just trying not to drive people away...(which I seem to have a talent for.) I don't want anything more out of the people in my life than for them NOT to make me go away, or NOT to walk away from me and leave me alone. I don't know...that's a pretty low bar, isn't it? Perhaps if that's all I ask, that's all anybody will ever believe I'm worth.
A million years ago, when we were young and still very much "in love," my significant other said, "I love you!" ...and I asked "Why?"
And he couldn't give me an answer.
It bothered me then.
It bothers me even more now.
I don't know. Maybe if he'd answered the question 40 years ago, I could try to go back to doing whatever it was I did to make him fall in love with me. Maybe he is reaping what he sowed.
Maybe we both are.
I don't want to fight with anyone anymore. I went through that with my sisters AND my husband...serious shit that almost ended us. But we held on, and emerged...
...in this place. Of peace and tolerance.
It's nice. It's safe. It's quiet.
But it's singularly unsatisfying. It doesn't meet my deepest need, that I try not to think about.
I really need someone to tell me I'm good. At something. At anything. Or at nothing. Just...good. Worthy. A positive presence, rather than the invisible one I am trying (and failing) to be.
Hanging by a thread.
I know this post is self-pitying drivel inspired by stress... But I also know that, so far, seven people have read it...and haven't even bothered to ask if I'm ok. And that feels...weird.
