What a Contradiction
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to love or feel loved enough. I think that’s a lot to ask of one person, but the thought of having to navigate the complexities of multiple partners seems like something I’m not ready to take on yet. I go back and forth from thinking it’s a way of living and loving that I could learn and succeed at with time, patience, and communication, but there are so many aspects to it that scare me that I feel silly in admitting. My family’s reaction is one of them, which blows my mind because I feel I give off an outward appearance that their opinions won’t impact the ways in which I live my life one way or the other.
I don’t know. I feel like I should be reading books about this stuff. I have friends and former lovers who are non-monogamous or polyamorous. I’ve asked questions and listened to their varied experiences, but I know there are other ways to be better informed. I just can’t help but feel this gut-wrenching jealousy at the thought of others being someone else’s priority, and that feels incredibly childish to admit, but it goes back to childhood.
I never felt like my mom’s priority, but always an inconvenience. Knowing she didn’t have the capacity for the first few kids she had, only to have several more years later, helps me understand why she never seemed to remain consistent for more than a few weeks at a time. It doesn’t take away that pain, though. This feeling of not being important enough for her to want to spend time one-on-one. There are snippets of time that I replay in my head when I’m missing her. They’re the stories I keep of her on a shelf and shelve out to those who inquire about my mom but aren’t in need of knowing the intricacies of our history.
There was a time in which I felt like I was someone’s person, and it was the most intoxicating experience. Constant intoxication just means there’s something toxic at the roots though, right? I’d say. It all happened so quickly, and I think it had a lot to do with my willingness to change if it meant being loved and made a priority. For a while, my ex-wife’s actions matched her words and things weren’t always great, but we loved each other. Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve set aside my pride, or changed myself just a bit more if that would’ve been the “right” decision. But that would mean that the life I’m living now is the “wrong” one. That doesn’t seem accurate, because a lot feels as it should. I’m grateful for the world I exist in now, and for the lives and loves I’ve experienced so shortly after tremendous heartbreak.
I think I’m afraid of being in love because I know how much it hurts to have that changed in such a short time. I’m a little surprised at the way that I feel, all these months later. Not that I feel for my ex-wife, but the fact that I’m just now thinking about my fear of my capacity for love, and not fulfilling it because of the fear.
