Just another notch in the bedpost

Looking back at my diary entries over my late teens and early 20s the theme remains the same:

Why am I so alone?

Why can’t I just have happiness?

All I want is to love and be loved in return.

Often when I would meet someone new my first instinct would be “This could be my soul mate!” I would run and jump into a relationship and start with the question, “So where is this going?”.  What can I say, I was the queen of freaking people out.  No one ever really wanted to stay with me and for the most part I mastered the art of manipulation and guilted relationships to last longer than they should have.  I would get my hopes up and then blame the world when my dreams became shattered.  As if I was owed love and how dare these men, or women, keep it from me.

Throughout most of these years  I was promiscuous to say the least.  I was under some delusional impression that to hold on to man you needed to let him hold  you down first.   And despite my many, many, many heartbreaks I continued with this way of thinking for years.

Most of the people I met were from the internet.  Sites like MySpace, Hot or Not, PureRave [I know I am really aging myself here].    It would start off innocent enough.  A few nights of chatting online, some video chats just so we could make sure the other person was really who they said they were, we would go out for a drink or ten and then have some usually pretty hot and spontaneous sex.  A few days later it would all be over.

I was such a fool to mistake passion and desire for love and commitment.  I was so worried about finding someone, that one person to have and to hold for eternity, that I lost myself completely.  I changed who I was each and every date I went on to make myself more appealing to that specific person.  My likes and dislikes would change, my style would do a 180, my hopes and dreams would mold and reshape, all this got me was laid.  I was still so lonely and hid behind the notches on my bedpost.

Just the other day I found a pros and cons list I had made eons ago.  The columns read ME and KITTIE.  Under ME were words like: lonely, suicidal, depressed, sad, worthless, ugly.  Under KITTIE [My alter ego] were words like: strong, independent, beautiful, carefree, dominant, sexy.  Who would you rather be?  I let Kittie Valentine take over my life to those who looked to me.  I made the world believe that I was all of those things that described her and flourished in the attention she got.  In reality though, of course, I was still just me.  My action showed one and my words, those diaries and poems scribbled down, showed the other.

It took someone else showing me that ME was smart, and beautiful, and enough.  For a long time Kittie was suppressed.  Pushed way down into the deepest and darkest parts of my soul.  Lately I have heard her knocking.  Screaming in silence to let her out.  I have been ME, the real me for nearly a decade now while with my husband.  Things have not been perfect but they have been working.  Kittie is not going to settle until let her out but, if I do, all I have worked towards will be lost.

 

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