Do you ever feel like you can’t look back at your past without cringing?
Trying to overcome the nagging memory of an unrequited love ten years ago, I searched for our email exchanges. I couldn’t open one. The cringe attack was so severe that I couldn’t even read what I had written.
Even when I understand why I was hurt or why I reacted as I did.
It’s not just him. Letters I wrote to my first ex (prior to Mr unrequited) or her letters to me lie untouched in an envelope. As well as letters to my English teacher who i was quite obsessed with for two years. I never sent her the letters… But I can’t bring myself to face the truth of my past.
The repulsion is so severe that I have to walk away. Even if I try to talk myself through it and say you were young, you were extremely depressed and suicidal at the time… Or with Mr unrequited I tell myself that he had hurt me deeply and yes it took me three years to heal and yes I didn’t always make sense because I kept trying to bury my emotions instead of feeling them and they’d burst out in words that I sometimes chose to send. And yes both my teacher and Mr unrequited didn’t understand my emotions or bother to heal me out, which made me more emotional and made me suppress a deeper hurt…
But despite all that, I can’t read them. And I realise why… I realise why I can’t say the word fat in public, and why I go quiet when people talk about how they look, and why I keep putting on weight, and why I hide the fact from everyone that despite spending six months trying to leave my cheating ex, I am still with him (yes despite all the truth I’ve faced)…
The answer is shame.
I never thought I’d felt ashamed of who I am or who i was or the decisions I’ve made or who I’ve become… but I figure thats at the centre of every torturous thought or reaction I have. It’s why I never stand up for myself or correct people when they say my name wrong. It’s why I automatically don’t pursue people I think may be a good match for me.and mostly, it’s why I keep this blog anonymous.
It goes hand in hand with guilt. Guilt shame fear… It’s why I hold myself back.
I assume it has to do with my childhood. My father who confused the way I thought of myself. And the resulting disorganised attachment patterns I continue as an adult.