D-D-D-Drowning

I went into counseling wanting to fix myself. Over the years I have noticed patterns in my dating relationships that keep resurfacing, and with the new knowledge of "the thing that happened that I cannot talk about," everything started coming into place. So far instead of learning how to change, I'm learning that I'm not messed up to begin with. Sure, the things that happened to me were, but I myself am strong, not weak, and whatever weaknesses I think I have are actually strengths -- or at least two sides of the same coin. This is not just words of wisdom for me, but for all women out there who think we have to be a certain way or do a certain thing (or more often, not be a certain way and not do a certain thing) to find love.

When I have an awesome date with a guy and he kisses me at the doorstep, I naturally expect to hear from him again. When I didn't hear from D for a week and a half I was sure he changed his mind, and I wrote him an email asking just that. He responded pretty quickly and we've gone back to our friendly facebook banter and the mutual understanding that he isn't looking to be with anyone right now. In the past such a statement meant that the guy was gay, which was always later confirmed. In those cases the guy always thought I was the greatest, most beautiful, and most talented woman alive, but wasn't looking for anything because he wasn't looking for a girl. In this case, D is -- from what I can tell -- as straight as they come, and his reserve really is because of what's going on in his own life, and has nothing to do with me or a lack of genuine interest. Instead it comes from interest itself and a desire not to get in over his head. At least that is what I took from our conversation.

The counselor's first successful lesson was teaching me that it's okay to have needs. Her second lesson was to help me learn that what I thought was bad about myself is actually good. As I explained to her, my usual PMDD pattern with relationships is to stop treading water and to instead flail my arms around madly as I cry out "Help! I'm drowning!" Of course the drowning is only made worse by my panicked response. After therapy I learned that that response is not just a weakness -- it's also a strength. I flail around for survival. Instead of letting myself drown into a resignation or depression I fight for what I know I need. It may not always be the best thing to do in relationships or even a necessary one, but it's gotten me where I am today. As I related this realization to my best gay friend J over a hot dog and a hard cider, a light came on over his head and he said, "Yes! It makes sense. You're a fighter." I've fought financial odds to get college degree. I've fought against abusers who told me I was nothing. I've fought the graduate department to let me get a (harder) assistanceship that would work with my illness. I've fought the Department of Social and Health Services to give me benefits, and I'm continuing to fight Social Security.

Sure, when I don't hear from a guy I like for a week and a half I panic just a little bit. But it's that exact desire to get what I need that has gotten me so far in life. I don't let my arms go slack and delve into the depths. Instead I flail around until the storm calms down and I can once again tread water. There's no lifeboat out there, no light house or vest or even rations. This is not to say that there aren't people -- even family -- who help me along the way. But at the end of the day it's just me and the storm. And I always win, even when I think I've lost.