For Once Let Me Lose Myself…

Add fuel to the fire of my enemy within: a conduit (aka mr horrible) who uses those parts of me against me. I am my own worst enemy.

I recall months and years of servitude to the monster in my head.

So serious, all the time
I feel restrained.
I feel confined.
I cannot take your whispering, your whispering.

I want to break out and enjoy my newfound freedom, my singleness, but I can’t.

I am bound within me and convinced that I am unfit to be with another person. I find myself even questioning the events of my marital incarceration, trying to find excuses for the warden that kept me locked in. I had opportunities to break out and I would stand at the precipice convinced that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just walk out the door. But look at me now, I have walked out. But I’m still trapped.

How can I make history, with your choreography?
Take your hands off me, Take your hands off me
Before I suffocate

People say women look for men who remind them of their fathers.

I thought I would succeed in finding the exact opposite of my father, looking for someone who would appreciate me as a person, as a woman, and respect me for who I am. A man who would not disrespect me by disregarding my intelligence, by lying to me or by betraying my loyalty. I succeeded in finding a man exactly like my father. The few times I allow myself to dwell on this little nugget of reality, I am horrified and petrified.

How can I trust my own judgement in this arena when I failed so miserably for over a decade?

Were all the guys I ever dated like this? Why am I wired like this? I thought I would have a harder time attracting the attention of men in my post-divorce state. Didn’t it wear like a shroud? Couldn’t other people see the stain of my failure? Apparently not. But I know it’s there. It’s the travel trunk of misery that kept me from answering the phone, on the other end was the guy who seemed really nice when he asked for my number at the movies.

After I gave him my number thinking that it would be nice to get to know him, that’s when the whispering in my head started telling me that I had no business talking to another man, that I was just going to open myself up to more pain. Or worse, that he was only after me for some booty and not because he really wanted to know me, as mr horrible often let it be known–that if it wasn’t for the sex in our relationship, there would have nothing redeeming about me for him.

It sickens me still to think on it. So I didn’t answer the phone. I felt like a real heel and eventually after a week I did answer and try to explain, but what explanation is there for my behavior? I am sure I hurt his feelings, or maybe not. Maybe I was just another checkbox on his week. I don’t want to think about these things… that’s why I read so many books. Other people’s words from their heads drown out the words in mine.

One day I will be free. Today is not that day.