Today I took a picture of my entire day, a photo every hour or so, thinking it would morph into some really philosophical blog entry about my every day life.

Uh. It’s just lots of pictures of New York City and maybe the door to the women’s bathroom at work and maybe me in an elevator a few times.

So, um, not as good an idea as I previously thought? Let’s move on.

I’ve been giving this commitment-phobe thing a lot of thought. And I am not going to lie here: it totally sucks.

I am up to the part in the book where I take a notebook and answer approximately 700 questions about my previous relationships. I am supposed to start at the beginning and work my way to the present. Allegedly, I will see a pattern. And it will be enlightening and stuff.

I got through two.

Two relationships.

And then I began to bawl and shut the book.

This is…progress?

Basically, what I’m saying is, it hurts. I know evaluation of the past is necessary to move forward. I don’t want to linger there, I don’t want to beat myself up over it because it’s in the past but oh my God, it hurts more than I thought it would. The realization is that I have not been afraid of commitment over the past year or so but for the past six years.

I repeat. SIX. YEARS.

I have not finished the book and I do not have another therapy session until Monday so I can give you my theory right now, as it stands.

One day, a long time ago, at the tender age of 17 I fell flat on my face in love. It was all-consuming and powerful and I know, I was young but it was real to me. I firmly believed I had met the man I was going to marry, that I could find no one who connected with me like him, who challenged me intellectually, who made me laugh until my sides hurt, who showered me with affection often and with ease.

Two years later, the relationship was over. My heart didn’t just break, it shattered into a pile of pieces that I could not put back together. I fell into a deep depression and the months that followed are now hazy. I do not remember walking to class or what I learned or anything at all except stretching on my back in jazz class and tears streaming down my cheeks and onto the dance floor.

My theory is that I emotionally shut off a switch. The pain was too great and I made up my mind that I would NEVER be that hurt again. I would NEVER open myself up to that amount of grief because then surely, I would be dead. So, sure. I would date again, I would have fun but NO WAY was anyone else getting close to me like THAT.

And so I established a lovely pattern of keeping men in my life at arm’s length. Do not ask me to meet your parents or I will tell you that you are MOVING TOO FAST, even after a year of dating. Do not ask me to plan a vacation with you or to come to your friend’s wedding or ask me what my plans are for the summer because then I will assume you want to stay with me for the long haul and I will promptly pack my bags and leave. It’s been great but it really is getting so late! Phew!

This realization is so incredibly sad and painful to me as the young woman who thought that she was always giving all of herself, to everyone. I have not. My love has been conditional and full of escape clauses. The exercise in the book showed me that. When I compare the two lists of answers, the first list with my Very In Love Boyfriend and the second for the boyfriend who followed…oh, my. They are two different lists.

That is what made me cry, the overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and general YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE criticisms. To think that I have had long-term relationships with people who loved me, who wanted all of me and I…I ran away. I was running away from the beginning, the entire time and I was blind to that fact. The problem was always with them.

Now, there is something to be said for some men just not being the right ones. And I believe that, I do. But my Lord, have I dated some super awesome men and even THOSE guys? Maybe even some of those guys were not long-term dating material but I wish I had been more present in those relationships. I wish I had dared to fall in love with the wrong person, to open myself up to them, even if we were only meant to be for a short while. Instead, I dated in fear and over-analyzed every single one of them. I wish I had been able to shut that part of me off and been more open to the possibility.

I had an emotional meltdown this summer that many of you may recall. I am too tired to link to the posts and I think I have linked to them enough, quite frankly. They are a bit embarrassing. Summation: I discovered an ex of mine was getting married and I FREAKED OUT like a crazy person.

Everyone told me it was normal to feel that way. It was normal because I just wanted that for myself! And it sucked that someone else was having it! And blah blah. But I recall saying in a post or in the comments that that wasn’t quite it. I truly didn’t feel jealous that someone was getting married. I didn’t take stock of my life or question where I was or compare myself to that.

Instead, I reacted as if I just got dumped. It was an absurd reaction and I literally cried for DAYS. The relationship ended years ago and I felt as if just the day before he had turned around and walked out. It was confusing and hard for me to explain to anyone. People didn’t really know what to say to me because I couldn’t accurately articulate what I was feeling.

Now, I get it.

I am learning that a commitment-phobe loves to have an out. They keep their partners at a distance. They tend to run from one relationship to another. They emotionally or physically cheat to create distance. Me personally? I like to keep all my ex-boyfriends around JUST IN CASE I suddenly change my mind and want to jump back into a relationship with them.

When I found out that my ex was getting married, I honestly felt dumped because the option was still there. Sure, we didn’t talk! Sure, I had no idea what was going on with his life! But I was certain that in my head, should I want to get back with him, he would be there! And it would be great! The fantasy future I mapped out in my head made PERFECT SENSE TO ME. It included a farm! And babies!

Until it vanished. Until he politely closed the door and said, “I have moved on. Take care.” And I crumpled. I sank. I couldn’t breathe. I honestly felt rejected because in my head, WE WERE MEANT TO BE! HE WAS MY TICKET TO TRUE HAPPINESS. Forget that I hadn’t reached out to him for months, maybe a year, HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! GAH!

So, phew.

I am learning.

I have not made an ACTION PLAN though one is sorely needed. I am just too overwhelmed right now to make up my mind about what I want. One day at a time is all I can do. There are lots of roads to take right now but mainly, I would like to overcome my fear. I have faith in myself that this is possible.

This is heavy stuff and I’m not sure it really makes sense so I apologize for the rambling and incoherence. I think these revelatory posts are going to have to make an appearance on here until I can get it all out and then years later, read about all my drama and make fun of myself.

Deal?

Awesome. Thanks for listening.