I didn't realize how resistant I was to it at first. But as my walls came crumbling down and I saw the debris and what it exposed, it was so painfully obvious what I was doing. How did I not know that? I'm a social person, and how I feel isn't well hidden. So I assumed that I was an open person, but I'm far from it. I'm guarded because I'm afraid. That fear is so deeply embedded in me. It's such an old scar that I've forgotten that it even exists. Guardedness just became a part of my identity.
The conversation may have initially been about our relationship, but the focus eventually shifted onto me and my problems. It no longer became about what he would and wouldn't put up with or how he refuses to get hurt again. It was about how I needed to change for myself. It became painfully evident when he put more effort into showing me that than I put in the effort to see it.
My vision was honestly obstructed because I was blocking myself from it, but I'm also the same person who put those barriers there in the first place. I may have been setting myself up, but I have no one else to blame for that than myself. As what he kept saying over and over, which is painfully cryptic (show me you've changed, show me you've changed, prove to me that you want to change, prove to me that you want to change, you're not showing me, you're not showing me....) finally made sense, I broke down. I started crumbling, crying, shaking, and it was a devastatingly vulnerable experience. I hate feeling that way, but that's when I finally made progress.
Apparently that's one of my processes. In order for me to open up, be receptive, be self-aware, and trust myself and others, I have to break down. That's the only way I know how to do it. That's why I was finally making progress. I felt something changing in me, but I didn't understand it until it was pointed out to me.
It wasn't until it was pointed out to me and I felt vulnerable that I even knew this. I'm not trying to excuse myself, but I couldn't help myself when I didn't even know it was there. I blamed him for things that weren't his faults as a coping mechanism. I was awful. I never want to put him or anyone else through that again. I appreciate so much what he did for me, to be on the phone with me for as long as he had, tolerated me, and helped me again, but I don't want to make this about him because it isn't.
One last comment about him, though. He said that I had to go through Hell to get better, so he wishes that I go through a lot of Hell. It's twisted but in a sweet way. He doesn't wish this method on me, but it's my process. He suggested that I invite more girls into my life because I need that kind of energy and people around. I don't know too many girls, and I certainly didn't know any I could talk to at midnight or so I thought.....
He was adamant that I talk to my roommate. He was confident that she'd be able to help me, but he doesn't even know her. All I told him is that I moved. I live in the living room now and share the space with a girl, and I get along with her. He seemed impressed and happy for me. I also explained that she gave me attitude when I didn't finish her bread. It was so vague and minimal the amount of information I provided of her, but he persisted that she obviously cares about me and wants me to be happy. So she would help me. He told me to talk to her, to tell her everything. And I actually did. I think that's the first time I ever opened to anyone like that or at all. I've explained details, but I was really exposed and vulnerable.
I had to get off the phone before I changed my mind, but I knew that it was the right decision for me because I was scared. Fear is a familiar reflex I experience when I know I have to approach something. When I was on the phone with him, I was crying and shaking, and I was really scared. I had no idea what to expect from this conversation. I just knew that I had nothing to lose, that she's a good person, that I have no reason to not trust him, and more than anything I didn't want to be afraid anymore.
She wasn't bothered at all about being interrupted. She was there for me and listened to me, but it wasn't this awkward silent thing. She shared, too. I was surprised by how open and how comfortable she was by my reaction. I kept having these thoughts racing in my mind about what she thought about me. What if she was worried that I'd always do this to her? She just moved in, and here a stranger is dumping her problems on her. What if I'm bothering her? Who would actually admit it? Would I freak her out by saying this? It was natural. She even expressed that she was glad to see this side of me. And here I was worried that it would freak her out. It was a relief for her.
How did I get so much so wrong? I was wrong about her. I was wrong about him. I'm wrong about myself A LOT! All I really know is that I have to go through Hell to get better. As much as I hate it, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! Wish me lots of pain and Hell!