“Can I hold you”?

It felt like every part of my mind and body screamed, “YES”.

His arms have been my home for so long. All I ever want to do is disappear into that familiar place, to smell that familiar smell and let go of my worries and fears as he sheltered me from life itself. As he calmed the chaos inside of me that never rests. My body has been screaming for safety not just for weeks, but for as long as I can really remember.

But,

Something different happened this time. I’m going to try and describe this the best that I possibly can. I want to write this down while it’s fresh. I want to remember this exactly as it happened, and then maybe, it will happen again.

It felt like time stopped for a moment. I’m sure in reality it was only a few seconds before my response, but I remember feeling this longing in my physical body, this sheer desperation for a moment that I knew would bring me peace right then and there.

I have never been good at saying no to something that I know will feel good, even if I know full well it will hurt me later. I think that’s probably a defining characteristic of an addict. I don’t think about the future. I have never even been able to really picture the future let alone in a moments notice analyze the effects of my current decisions on it. This inability to stop and think about what I am doing and if the temporary high is worth the pain later is a skill I have never been able to learn.

It’s why I agreed to ten days with him, knowing full well how he felt and what would happen at the end.

It’s why I let him into my bed so many times without knowing if he would leave again.

It’s why I convinced myself that he loved me, when he was actively harming me.

The list could go on and on and on.

It’s not as if I don’t know, somewhere inside me, that the temporary comfort I will feel is going to cause even more damage later. It’s that in the moment, the desire for that relief is too overpowering. I know it might hurt later, but I just don’t care. I’m not blind, I choose not to see.

I’ll admit when I am manic it usually isn’t a choice anymore. I really can’t see what the outcomes of my behavior will be. My daughter told me something recently that her therapist said. She said that being in an episode is like seeing the world through warped lenses. I still see and experience everything around me, but it doesn’t look the same to me as it would have when I was stable. My vision is distorted. The problem is that in true mania, I have no idea that I’ve got these glasses on. Like someone has put them on me while I was asleep and I woke up without checking the mirror. So I don’t realize that things are different than before, and therefore I don’t reach up and take them off until it’s too late.

But, when it’s my stable self in control, it is a choice. A choice between a moment of peace and the pain that comes later, or saying no to relief, continuing to feel suffocated by the pain, but keep my dignity and avoid hopefully adding more. But the thing is, I already feel pain. Every single day it sits in my chest, reminding me of the memories I wish I could forget. Consciously choosing to deny myself any relief, no matter how temporary, in exchange for one less memory added to the dark, disgusting collection that is rotting inside of me, would take an enormous amount of self control and rational thinking, two of the things I lack most. I am usually going to hurt either way, so at least I can have a moment of peace in between.

But this time, there was a separation from that disparity, and the rest of myself.

It was like a slideshow started playing. Memories of moments that I had said yes scrolled past in my mind, and each one reminded me of how weak I have felt. How powerless I have felt over my own body and my own mind.

I have said yes out of fear. I have said yes out of desperation. I have said yes out of insecurity, out of laziness, out of selfishness. I literally saw inside my head my younger self over and over choose something that was beneath her, just to feel okay. It was a really fucking surreal experience. As I watched myself choose these temporary highs again and again, I remembered the feelings that came with each one. Feelings of shame, worthlessness, embarrassment, betrayal, heartbreak. An overwhelming sense sadness and sympathy started rising inside me.

I don’t ever want to be pitied. I’ve made my choices and no matter what the circumstance was, I am responsible and accountable for the outcome. But as I saw each moment that took a piece of me with it, I felt pity watching myself. Watching myself, hurt MYself.

I understand it probably doesn’t make sense as I’m writing this because in real time this had to have taken place in like under 30 seconds. But this really is what I experienced.

I looked at this person that I had loved for such a long time, that I had in that time been willing to do anything just to feel his love for me, and as I did one last memory scrolled in front of me.

We were sitting in my closet. He had shown up late after one of our many break ups. I asked him to come talk to me. I always did. It did not matter how hurt I had been, or how angry I had felt. It always ended with me asking, begging, waiting, for him to come back. I was angry this time. He had said words to me that broke me to my core hours before. I listened on the floor as he questioned my character, minimized my struggles and the ways I had overcome them and made excuses for why I was to blame.

But then he said the words “Can I please just hold you”?

For the first time in my life, my anger was stronger than my desire to feel loved. I didn’t think about anything inside, I still wasn’t considering the weight of my decision. Instead of being overpowered by desire and saying yes, I was overpowered by my anger, and I said no.

He looked at me, after just asking to hold me, after telling me how he just wanted to feel my skin, after telling me that he loved me, and walked out.

This memory played out in front of me as I looked at his face and I remembered the devastation that came after realizing that if I didn’t give him my physical body, I was worthless to him. He didn’t want my heart, he wanted my form. And when he couldn’t have it, he left.

The memory ended and I remember asking him “If I say no, will you leave?” I didn’t want him to leave, and I was seriously considering saying yes to keep him from going. I was still fighting against myself.

He said he wouldn’t leave. But after so many lies, after so much betrayal and broken promises, I didn’t believe him.

I had to make a choice between feeling that safety I had always chosen, over my dignity, or saying no and never feeling it again.

I looked at his face, I felt my physical body screaming at me to just get out of the car and let him hold me one last time. But I also felt the pity for myself for all the times I believed him. I did not feel ashamed for the moments I had chosen temporary satisfaction, I felt sorrow that for so long I have been so desperate to just be okay.

I knew I would feel better if I said yes, but I knew how I would feel in the future too. I became overwhelmed with this protective feeling for my younger self. It suddenly became clear that the feeling of safety I craved was not going to come from someone’s embrace that had abandoned me and failed to keep me from harm.

I realized the safety I craved has never come from anyone else in the long run.

I realized that the desperate desire to be protected that I’ve had as long as I could remember, would never come if I didn’t break the cycle. That by allowing myself to ignore the reality around me, I was actually abandoning myself.

The safety I have searched for, and bent for all of my life, was inside me. I didn’t have to look for someone to protect me anymore.

I could protect myself.

I said no. A tiny part of me was still fighting against that word, but it was so small, it was easily overpowered.

I hope I remember this. I have always said that I have been waiting my whole life for someone to protect me.

How strange, at 31, to realize that maybe that someone,

has been me all along.

Maybe the way I break this cycle of ending up with people who aren’t meant for me, who are unsafe for me, is that I stop looking for safety in them.

If I can learn to keep myself safe, then maybe I will learn to see things as they are, not what I want them to be. If I can learn what makes me feel unsafe early enough, anyone who threatens that, will not have access to me.

Maybe if I find safety and comfort within myself, I will finally be free.