Fucked Up

Do you ever wonder if anyone really knows you?  Or do they think they know you because of what you show them, which would actually be your fault (well, my fault because I am talking about me here).

 

I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to explain myself, maybe redeem myself.  Maybe just try to make someone understand me, my choices in life, my decisions.  Just me. Here, now, today.

 

In five days it will be my 31st wedding anniversary.  31 years.  Some days it feels like 10 years, some days it feels like 110 years.  Three kids, three grandkids, way too much trauma and drama.  My wish for our 31st anniversary is……………he talks to me.  He opens his heart, his mind and he talks to me.  He talks to me about him, he talks to me about me, he talks to me about us.  He is open and honest no matter how it hurts or who it hurts.  He tells me he if he wants to stop or keep going.

 

And what can I do for him?  I can try, desperately try, to make him understand me, to know me, again.  Try to help him see that choices I have made, things I have said, things I have done, have nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.  I know, I know – everyone says that.  But it is my truth.  I want to take the pain and hurt I have caused him away.  I see it when I look in his eyes.  He doesn’t want to look into my eyes anymore.  I see that, I feel that.  The hugs are different, the kisses are different.  The feeling around “us” is different.  And I own all of it.  Things that have happened in my past have affected my present.  I don’t need everyone to understand it, just him. 

 

I am needy.  I need to feel loved, wanted, desired.  Why?  Because that is how I feel worthy.  Yes, I need attention and lots of it.  I need the random kisses, the occasional love note, a cheap bouquet of flowers for no reason.  I am constantly fighting the demons of my past, trying to convince myself that I am enough, he loves me for me, he wants me for me.  But, it doesn’t always work that way.

 

This will sound fucked up and it is. I still try to get his attention.  I know he knows it.  At least I think he knows it.  I have always been an open and flirty person.  It’s me.  There is no way he doesn’t see it when I go into my flirt mode.  I do it to make me feel worthy, it’s always been the way I am.  It’s like my built-in defense mechanism.  If I don’t feel worthy or loved, or desired or wanted – I will go into flirt mode.  I KNOW I DO THIS.  It is a huge fault of mine.  HUGE.  When he sees or feels this happening, I want him to look at me and tell me to stop.  Tell me that he loves me, he needs me, he desires me, he wants me, he is not going to leave me.  Yes, I’m a needy bitch. 

 

And I want to wrap myself around him, crawl inside him to be as close as possible.  I can’t do that, I can’t flirt, so I will eat.  I will comfort myself with food.  I know I will.  It’s just me, it’s who I am. Yes, I am fucked up.