Relationships

Baby, I’m a Nightmare Dressed Like a Daydream

“I am finally seeing why I was the one worth leaving.”
The Postal Service

Typically, I am a very compassionate and loving person. Unfortunately, in my relationships this isn’t always the case. Just ask any guy I’ve ever dated and it’s quite possible he will describe me as a raging bitch. While it is completely normal to feel irritable from time to time, criticizing your boyfriend until he feels worthless is generally frowned upon. In an attempt to improve my behavior, I have given a lot of thought to why I tend to be overly critical to the people most special in my life.

What I have come to realize is that I am most critical when I am struggling to bring up something that is bothering me. Instead of asserting myself in a healthy way, I criticize the person for not giving me what I want. While not intentional, this is my fucked up way of trying to elicit some change and get what I want. Well, it turns out that people do not really like to be put down so instead I just push them farther away. This ends up creating a vicious cycle where the more I push you away the more I need you so the more I criticize. Clearly this is not an effective method for getting my needs met.

Ok, so now I know I do this, but why?

I have a few theories. For one, I find it extremely difficult to assert myself. It is also really difficult to ask for something if you aren’t entirely sure what it is you want in the first place. I’m not sure if anyone relates, but I don’t think in words. I know, that sounds really strange, but I’ll try to explain. Of course, there is a voice in my head that speaks to me in the English language, but when it comes to navigating my physical and emotional needs I sort of just feel. My intuition is my guiding light. When the fog of fear and anxiety settles in, it becomes extremely difficult for me to read these feelings. I am still able to sense that something is missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what it is. I try to navigate the fog, but I usually end up frustrated and confused. In a desperate attempt to fill the void, I start blaming those around me. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t do this. As far back as elementary school I remember making fun of the boy I liked. In third grade, this may have been age appropriate behavior, but at age 27, my boyfriend doesn’t enjoy it nearly as much.

Ok, so now I have an idea of why I do this, but what do I do instead?

I wish I had a mental flashlight to help me see through the fog. I don’t want to be critical. I don’t want to push the people I love the most so far away. I want to be the compassionate and loving person I know that I am. For now, I guess I will continue on my journey in search of my light.

 

Namaste.

Bonnie and Clyde: What Makes a “Bad” Boy so Desirable?

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Since summer 2014, I attended group therapy every Thursday evening. The weekly check-ins provided me a safe place to vent on a regular basis without having to call up my friends in the middle of the night when shit hit the fan. Well, a couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time to move on from my weekly sessions and entrust myself to handle things on my own in the “real world.” Just two weeks post group therapy, and I am already involved in the type of shenanigans that can only be shared during a confidential group session or over wine with the bestie. Somehow, I find myself juggling two guys, one of which is great for me – which makes him less interesting and desirable, and the other who is so incredibly wrong for me that I am drawn to him like a magnet to metal. Just months out of an engagement with Mr. Wrong, I have myself thinking, “What is it I find so desirable about these so-called ‘bad’ boys?”

I believe the answer stems way back into my childhood when I was first identified as the “good” kid. Unlucky for my younger brother, “bad” kid was the only label left by the time he came around. Growing up as little Miss Goody Two-Shoes wasn’t all that bad. I mean, I got away with A LOT just by passing the blame to my poor innocent brother. I mean seriously, my parents found a pack of PINK cigarettes in MY closet, and believed me when I said they were my brothers because I would never smoke cigarettes. *insert smirking face emoji* While I may have taken advantage of my brother on numerous occasions, I was envious of him despite the trouble and chaos that followed him around. At least he gets to be himself. To this day, I envy his “I don’t give a shit” attitude.

Obviously, no person can be all good or all bad (more…)