The Patterns

So I do have patterns that are very visible. Those that know me, know this. I pick people that don’t work for me and then it doesn’t work out. Do I know at the time that they won’t work out? I think that deep down I know that I do. I’ve been trying so long to heal old wounds, to establish a connection with someone, anyone, I know would have a hard time loving me. I’m not saying that I’m unlovable, that’s what I’m trying to prove time and again. I’m saying that I’m trying to get that one win, a person that swears they’ll never love again, or doesn’t want a relationship, for that person to fall into the worship of me. Maybe somewhere in there I’m also picking these people because I’m afraid of a true connection where someone will see all of the sides of myself that I hide. Either way, it’s still a defense mechanism.

It’s the same thing, repeating, like clockwork. I’m so tired of it. I accept that I was not loved. I do not want a person in my life as a partner or a friend that makes me feel like I am pushing them to care more for me than I do for them. I deserve better. I deserved better when I was a kid and I deserve better even more now because of what I’ve survived.

There are people who do see in me the value that I carry, in a relationship and in my character. I need to flock to those people and stop trying to gain acceptance from people who don’t really care about me. It’s hard for me to discern though because I was taught to seek a love that I was never going to receive. Sometimes the lines blur between what I’ve known and what I’ve been taught. What I mean is that people are not always against me but my anxiety tells me that they are; this is derived from abuse. My mother told me frequently that none of my friends were really my friends, but people looking for what they could get out of me.

Some people have kept their love dangling like a carrot in the air while I, the jackass, chase it relentlessly, as I dream of how sweet the victory will taste. That is a bitter dish, I’ll tell you. People push you to “gain their trust” to “work for their desire to be in a relationship” and then they devalue you and discard you. They do this because they are users and abusers. They make up stories, twirl around bits of truth as twisted as their minds are. They use pieces of truth to create the believability of it all. If they use parts of the truth, then it is easier for them to look you in the eyes and tell you what they want you to accept. It’s hard to spot them too. In my case, I just have to accept attention from an unknown person and try to date them, evidently.

These people are master manipulators and they use shame and humiliation to get what they want. They refuse to take accountability for their actions, always diverting the attention back to something about yourself they know you are sensitive about, any target can wound. They do this to distract you from the subject, from talking about themselves and what they could possibly improve. Complacency, that word I used in the last post, that was about feeling as if I did not need to take a look at myself because I felt that I was doing well. Surprise bitch.

I only prosper when I don’t second guess myself. That doesn’t mean that I don’t analyze my thoughts, actions, and emotions but that I stand by all of it because I know who I am. I know what I feel and some people make me feel like garbage. I don’t like that feeling. “You always do this.” That statement carries a lot of weight. Yes, I always walk away from men that don’t care to lose me. I walk away from people who invalidate my feelings. I walk away from situations that no longer serve my growth as a human being.

I’m fucked up, from how people have treated me and from how I’ve treated myself. That still doesn’t mean I don’t love myself. Any of you that say I don’t, don’t know a thing about who I really am and your viewpoint of me is superficial. I love myself enough to cut people out at any point that they try to make me feel like I’m wrong for expressing my feelings. I cut out people that tell others lies to make themselves look better.

I love myself enough to know what I deserve.

I love myself enough to know what I’m worth.

I love myself enough to fantasize not about killing myself, but killing the game.

I’m true to my feelings and I’m not afraid to tell the world what I want.

Author: jessicaambateman

I am a survivor of childhood abuse on the verge of speaking out. I have waited my whole life to have the luxury of spilling my guts and blogging is going to become part of that journey.

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