I know that this grief is equally because of me.

Maybe even mostly because of me.

It seems I still can’t find it in me to stand for the truth of what I believe love looks like. Not for long at least. I get a little closer each time, but eventually I slip back into the same old pattern.

I find someone I see the potential in.

I find someone that accepts me.

I find someone who will do life with me on their terms as long as I modify mine.

I find someone I love.

I convince myself it’s enough.

I tell myself, how can I ask for more?

More than someone who chooses me?

More than someone who accepts me and all of my baggage? I’m bipolar, divorced, with a shitload of kids for fucks sake.

More than someone who tells me they love me and keeps me warm at night?

More than someone who doesn’t leave me black and blue?

More than someone who isn’t truly evil?

Love is compromise, I say.

If I focus on the red flags too soon, I’m being judgmental.

I don’t want someone to see me for my faults, everyone deserves someone who sees the good in them.

So I commit. I make a promise to stay no matter what.

But the small compromises turn into blatant disregard for my values.

The slight avoidance to the red flags turn into me lying to myself.

It turns from me telling my family I have never been happier, to covering up what’s happening for fear of them interfering or judging.

And then, after usually a long time, I realize that I can’t accept the kind of love that I am being offered anymore.

That I know there has to be something out there that matches what I have pictured in my head all these years.

That if I continue, I will be settling for a version of myself that isn’t authentic.

It really is my fault.

I made them believe that I would always be there.

I made them believe that even though I desired growth, I didn’t require it.

I made them believe that I could accept something that I knew didn’t look like the love I have dreamed of because believing in that dream was me needing “too much”.

I keep thinking that I will be okay with just the idea of love, but refuse to accept that it’s the actions that love produces that I need so badly.

The compassion.

The empathy.

The consideration.

The honesty.

The forgiveness.

The gentleness.

I keep thinking that if I just hold out long enough, it will be worth it.

I don’t want to stop believing that.

So where’s the middle ground?

How do I give grace, understanding, patience, but also not give the impression that I am content with breadcrumbs?

How do I see the potential and best in someone who isn’t healed yet, knowing I am not myself, without attaching myself to that potential and never accepting it’s their responsibility to grow?

How do I stop the cycle of relationships ending because I am not okay with the things that have been there from the very beginning?

How do I love someone unconditionally but have conditions for the way I need to receive love?

I can’t keep cycling through the same thing until I figure it out.

It’s unfair.

I need to make a list.

What I will accept.

What I won’t.

I have to live by it.

No matter if I think that over time I will eventually be able to have the things I really need.

No matter if the person I love is telling me my expectations are too high.

No matter how much I try and convince myself that I don’t deserve what’s on that list. That I need to accept what is in front of me or die alone.

Typing this out it makes me realize the similarities to when I’m in an episode.

I can’t think the same anymore. I don’t honor my values. I gaslight myself into believing whatever idea I’ve gotten into my head and convince myself that I’m doing the right thing. I have no ability to remember the reasons behind the promises I made to my family. The reasons behind the promises I made to myself.

It’s like addiction. I can tell myself that I will never fall again. That nothing could shake me.

But when that moment comes, I forget it all. I manipulate myself into thinking that it’s okay. I make excuses. I forget that I just claimed THE DAY BEFORE that one time is too many, and never enough.

It has to stop.

I need to make a list.

I need to hold myself accountable.

I need to let my friends, my family hold me accountable.

I have to be honest.

I have to remember.

I genuinely think it’s a very real possibility that my idea of love isn’t in the cards for me, that it’s not tangible.

But unless I suddenly desire something less, this cycle will never stop.

I see the love I want in the way my siblings love me, in the way my best friend loves me, in the way my children love me.

If I can’t find that in a partner, I HAVE found it in them.

That’s enough. It’s always been enough.

If I’m going to settle, it’s going to be for an empty bed.

It’s going to be for an empty hand.

I need to make a list.

I need to remember.

Maybe when I learn to show loyalty to myself, I will finally understand what it looks like to share it, rather than give it up, with someone else.

I need to make a list.