Normal is such a loaded word. What the hell does it mean, anyway?
In the past week, T & I have gone from being comfortably, even sweetly, settled into a kind of loose relationship routine (after navigating a rough May filled with stress and change in other parts of our lives) to feeling distant and broken. After a few days of feeling deeply heartsick, today I feel more peaceful, and slightly hopeful, but extremely cautious.
The pattern (from my point of view): Just as things start to feel settled and lovely (to me), T get scared – too close, too much. Sometimes it feels like I'm not allowed to love or care for her, as if the signals get crossed and she experiences my affection – even my presence – as entrapment. When T gets scared, she lashes out at me emotionally, pushing me away. It is as if I get invited in, even welcomed on an emotional level, and then rejected. Which she clearly hates and regrets because a) she can see how much it hurts me and, b) she really does want to feel connectedness with me.
We do talk about this stuff when it happens, probably too much. She "owns" her bits … I try to find mine and also try to figure out what the triggers are.
This is also an inconsistent pattern – it doesn't always happen. The vast majority of our time so far has felt grounded, balanced, sane and open. However, it has happened twice on a large scale, and several times on a small scale.
I don't think any of us qualify as normal, and I think we all bring our particular brand of baggage to each relationship, be it an intimate one or a friendship. In my case, my most pressing need is simply to belong. To be part of things, to be included and for that inclusion to be consistent, warm and loving. By being who they are, my family of origin (my brothers in particular) taught me that I wasn't worth including in any kind of meaningful way, and I have spent the rest of my life attempting to be worthy of inclusion. Nice enough, smart enough, loving enough, accomplished enough, compassionate enough, political enough … one wonders when enough is enough.
So you can imagine how seductive and comforting the drawing in is, and how many buttons it pushes to be tossed out, typically without warning. This is the kind of thing that makes it so much safer to stay single, to remain an eccentric bachelor scarfing bon bons and hiding the Cheese Whirls when company comes.
If anyone in the small group of 10 who may read this has words of advice or support, I'd be grateful. If anyone knows of good resources for partners/lovers of survivors of incest, I'd be most grateful for that, too.
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