Fear

Struggling doesn't seem a large enough to explain what is going on inside me tonight.  

For the most part, my life is good right now. Really good, actually. But I've had a few hard weeks in therapy. A number of months ago, my therapist had me read a book called The Betrayal Bond, by Patrick Carnes. The premise of the book being that explotive relationships can create trauma bonds -- chains that link a victim to someone dangerous for them. The book explains why they form, who is most susceptible, and how they become so powerful.  I read the book in two days, absorbing every word and finally had an explanation for how I felt about what was going on between Steve and I. Naming it and understanding it allowed me put it away, file it in a neat little box tied with a ribbon and bow.

I knew at some point in time I would have to pull the box out, unwrap it and dig through the contents. I just didn't know it would be this difficult.

The work that I've been doing around Steve is gruelling. I don't want to relive the love we had, or go through all the emotions I have surrounding the relationship. But what has been most surprising for me is the immense amount of fear behind it. In many ways, Steve was the first person in my life to completely accept me. At a time when I hated myself, he swept in and restored my faith in me. He knew every detail of my life. Every aspect of my addiction, every religious belief I held dear, the names of my family members, what size clothes I wore, and every inch of my body. I remember the first time he told me he loved me. The amount of security those words held was incredibly powerful to me.  I was a better person for loving him and having him in my life. It was really, really good before it turned into something really, really bad.

I'm scared of so many things surrounding this relationship. 
I'm scared I'll go back to him. Sometimes, I want more than anything just to hear his voice again. We used to talk in song lyrics. He would send me some line from some song about how he was feeling and I'd look it up and respond with a line from another song. I remember the day he sent this to me, "I'm asking for your help, I am going through hell."  Our favorite band, Maroon 5. The next line... "Afriad nothing can save me but the sound of your voice. You cut out all the noise, And now that I can see my stakes so clearly now, I'd kill if I could take you back, but how?" I want to hear him sing again. I want to hear him say my name again. Sometimes I want it more than I can handle.

I'm scared I'll never love like that again. And I won't. For me, it was a naive love. I won't ever love like that again, so freely, so completely, holding nothing back.  I'm angry he took that aware from me.

I'm scared I can't love like that again. What if I really can't love again? What if I can't trust anyone again. I'm scared I'll never allow myself to be vulnurable again. I'm scared it will never happen again and I'll live the rest of my life alone.  I'm scared no one can accept me. I'm scared I'm only worthy of broken love.

I'm scared.

As long as I hold on to Steve and keep him in this nice little box, tied with ribon and bow, I never have to face that fear. But, I also know that I can't move on until I do. It sucks. And I hate it.