I came to an epiphany about my personality earlier, when I was walking to my taxi to go home from school, and it’s made me think.
When I get my heart broken, come out of a relationship or even when I try to get over someone, I both shy away and feel horrified at the thought of physical affection and don’t actively try to seek it out for a while. But when it’s offered, when I receive it, I revel in it.
On the way back home, I felt disgusted with myself, calling myself various names which I really shouldn’t have. I tried to sort it out, throwing all my feelings of annoyance out of an imaginary window, and could only come to the conclusion that I feel starved of ‘physical affection’ and so, despite not acjually wanting anything to happen with anyone, I get magnetised to the thought of kissing someone if there’s a possibility.
Now, this doesn’t make sense. With friends, I’m fine with hugging and touching hands, but recently I’ve not been doing so for prolonged periods of time – an arm around the shoulder here, a quick hug filled with laughter there. But the last time I properly hugged someone was when I was upset, and even then, I felt prickly and more sad. My friends are the types of people who would readily hug me if I needed it, and so the logical conclusion would be that I’m not in fact ‘starved’ or lacking in it. The only thing I can think of to explain it would be that I have withdrawn myself from wanting to hug/kiss/hold hands with people, which has made me consequently feel like that’s missing, and so in some kind of way I then want it. Because I’ve withdrawn myself, though, there’s a fear surrounding it which makes me not want to seek it.
Erm, that’s a very warped circle of thinking, and it doesn’t even add up in my head. It’s so hard to actively sit down and think about why you do things, why you feel things, because you could end up overthinking and then coming to completely the wrong conclusions about yourself. Because how are you to know, if things spin around in your mind and you then block it out?
In terms of romantic ‘affection’, I established after my breakup a month ago that I didn’t want anything like that with anyone for a long time. Not least because the very thought of that made – and makes – me want to sob, but also because I knew that if I used that as a distraction, it would damage me in the long run. I tried that before with Jasmine, and although I don’t regret a thing that happened with that, I was trying to block feelings out that were battering at me. That won’t work this time, and it’d be detrimental to try, because whatever happened I’d become clingy and sad as a result of anything that occurred. I don’t want that.
However, when I was at that party with Alex – read this post to find out more – I got this burning curiosity of what it would be like. It wasn’t active – think of it as being behind a wall in your mind – but still, it was there. That confused me, and panicked me: I knew that if I truly wanted to kiss that boy, it would have been all-consuming, and I would have let it cycle through my mind and smiled from it. At times in the evening, I caught myself feeling disjointed and numb because I missed having someone there, someone who held me without judgement, which was so far from the atmosphere on the sofa where I turned towards him, with a foot of distance between us. It felt almost lonely, but with a thread of companionship just out of reach, yet I wanted to grasp that thread just to see what it would be like. I was too scared, but afterwards I obsessed over the thought of it.
Today, a boy was walking with me to my taxi, holding my shoulders at one point because he thought I would fall, and putting his arm around me for a split second when I grumbled about being tired. It was nice, and this is where I enjoyed it: the innocence, the laughter, the small segment of a possibility that I knew wouldn’t grow. I was comfortable with that, in the same way I am with Alex when we text, because I’m well aware that I won’t make it into any more than it is. I’m nervous, though, that I’ll start to rebound and obsess as I did with Ash before, Birch after him, and everything that happened after that shitstorm.
I told someone last night that in a month, I’d be okay to go out and get with someone, but that now I was much too miserable to care. I think that’s true; I don’t know about the month thing though because I thought I’d be okay a month after the breakup and I’m still not. Whatever happens, next time I do have anything romantically physical, I don’t want to feel sick or starved or scared.
My discovery about myself today is that physicality makes me nervous, so I really shouldn’t persue any of that shit yet – I’ve said it before, but I have to reitterate because back then, I didn’t have a drop of wondering when around someone as I sometimes do now. I’m trying not to run away with the moment, get caught up, because as much as I become inquisitive when faced with leaning into someone, I know that it wouldn’t be healthy for me to just grab that opportunity now.
Hugs from friends are okay, though. I need to remember that. Sometimes, I get terrified at the state of my own mind, and people around me become walking magnets for my oeediness. The prevailing emotion is that I can’t be bothered with anyone holding me because what’s the point; it’s nothing big. Then, I remember: I AM ACTUALLY WORTH SOMETHING.
Talking about my personality is exhausting, because I dislike it the majority of the time. My mind is a spiral of twisting, overlapping and contradicting whirls of thought, and I can never decipher them. It takes me a while to even come to the realisation that simultaneously hating and wanting a smidgen of romance is perfectly fine.
Never beat yourself up for feeling one thing one second, and another thing the next. Keeping your thoughts in order isn’t easy, and I’m constantly learning new things about how I work, and what I’m capable of doing.
From Elm 🙂