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************************************************************************* ‘Emotional closeness intensifies the possibility of being discovered unworthy and being rejected. Feelings of unworthiness may be connected with shameful secrets that you bear or with a deeper sense of incompleteness. Most of all, you may fear boring others, which is a counterpoint to your own struggle to avoid the vacuum of boredom that allows despair to infiltrate. Closeness raises the emotional stakes if you are eventually rejected.’
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I feel really guilty about giving people responsibility for me, I don’t really do it on purpose, I often don’t realise that I am doing it. I just rely on them too much when I should look after myself. I hate the way I was so dependent on people, I really do try to stop myself getting to that stage, But I always do and it is not fair on them. I flirt quite a lot, couldn’t help myself. Any male whatsoever, if I get into the manic mood then I’ll flirt away. But I never want to go out with them, a lot of the time I didn’t even know that I was doing it, I’d come out of the maths lesson and get shouted at by a friend who was angry with me for flirting with the teacher she had a crush on. Sometimes I flirt more consciously, leading them on. I’d get really excited if I thought that they were going to ask me out only to regret agreeing to go out with them if they did ask. All my relationships are amazingly intense- every person I meet is my potential soulmate and I want them to love me and only me forever and ever. I guess my relationships are also unstable, judging by the abrupt ends to them all! I hate it when I realise that they didn’t love me best in the world, or even that they didn’t love me at all. I try to subtly find out where I stood with people, how much they cared for me. And so I would plague my school nurse with constant questions about who else she treated and what was wrong with them. Pretty hard though, confidentiality agreements and all. (not that anything I ever said seemed to be confidential! I would analyse every word anyone said to me, so that I could know if they hated me and wouldn’t embarrass myself by thinking that they liked me when they didn’t at all. I probably misinterpreted a lot of things because in the hospital we discussed what I thought they had meant and they would normally deny meaning what I thought. . How they said it was quite important, whether it had some hidden statement that they hated me and wanted me to go away. By doing this I thought that I could see if the person actually liked me or if they pretended. I would mostly conclude that they hated me. If it was someone I really liked then I would send it round and round in my head, desperately hoping that they did like me. By doing this I was trying to keep myself safe, an early warning system to prepare for, or to avoid, rejection. I am very possessive, always wanting every one to love me and only me. I hate it when I realised that I was not their best friend or their best patient of all time. I can’t cope with the possibility that no-one at all would pick me if they had to choose one person in the world to save from a sinking ship. Whenever I felt rejected I would be desperate to kill myself. I would feel lost, like I had been dropped in another country and knew nothing of their language and had no contact. your world shattered, collapsed beneath you. I was detached and lonely, often having been abandoned by the person that I happened to be dependent on at the time. I don’t think that I wanted to die so much as to manipulate them, to make them notice me and rescue me, to tell them ‘this is what happens when you leave me.’ Like them knowing that I almost died could bring them closer. Unfortunately, I was often too scared of death to do it, and was often prevented by knowing how upset and angry my parents would be. After I got rejected from one person I’d soon find someone else to attach to, although the time in between would be awful. There I’d feel strange, surreal, as if my world had been shattered, nothing could be trusted to last. The feelings of loneliness, abandonment and fear at the loss of what you thought you knew to be true are similar to how I would imagine it would feel to go home to your house only to find that it had disappeared, leaving an empty space. I remember one day, aged 14, trying to explain to my friend that I was scared of closeness because of the pain of rejection and she said ‘it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. I knew that it was wrong to become dependent on people, because of my feelings as well as theirs. I would desperately try not to get close to people because I would inevitably get hurt in the end; I would always lose them or be rejected by them. But I’d always find myself getting attached. It hurt all the time because I was not self-sufficient like I wanted, my feelings generally hung on how they treated me. And they would always say something wrong which I would stupidly forgive them for. I’d resolve not to go back but I always would, for more punishment. I’d tell myself that I was being mature and not sulking, but really I was just pathetically dependent. So when I was finally rejected by them it would hurt loads. Sometimes I thought that people did it on purpose, making me rely on them so that they could then dump me and I would be suicidal. But it was my fault, I shouldn’t have made myself vulnerable. That was what I hated most about myself, because my attachments would end in tears, without fail. Still, I could never resist it. Another poem:
Someone once told me that if you took the lid off your mince pie, the number of currants stuck to the lid represented the number of people who loved you. Mine was empty. |
