Broken People...

I read a quote the other day that said, “Broken women know how to love but not who to love and broken men know who to love just not how to love.”  That kind of rings true in my own personal loving history.

If I look at all my relationships, the love I gave was good, it was true and it was loving.  But the men I have given that love to has been a whole different story.  I have not picked well, like at all. Repeatedly.

And the men I loved that were also broken knew that I was a good catch, a loving force in their lives for good but they, for the most part, had absolutely no idea what the fuck they were doing.  Their love was sporadic, chaotic, full of jealousy and anger and spite.  It didn’t feel like love most of the time.  But then there were those times we would lie in bed, and I would lay my head on his chest and for that moment I felt safe.  And I sacrificed a lot to find that temporary safety with someone who was not really safe at all.

I left the physically abusive assholes when I got sober.  I garnered enough self esteem by not being drunk all the time to not put myself in harm’s way physically.  But since then I have called a lot of men “good men” who were anything but.  Perhaps they were sick, broken, lost, but when I really review my own dating trajectory, the ones I chose to keep, those were the worst ones of all.  I didn’t keep the ones that were decent and loving.  I threw them back like there was something wrong with them.  I didn’t keep the ones that didn’t cheat or lie or fail to show up for me repeatedly.  I let the stable, steady ones go too.

I selected the familiar hell over the unfamiliar heaven so many times.  Honestly, this statement describes the whole of my dating life to date.  Totally embarrassing.  But also totally true.

Even the ones that weren’t all bad, and there were a few of those, I can see now how much I insisted they were better than they were.  Hell, one of them and I argued about that, him knowing he was kind of a shit and me refusing to see it.  Honestly, I don’t think I really admitted what a shit he was until right this moment...fucked up as that may be.  At least I see it now.  It has been long over but I have a very creative mind that likes to rewrite history...and I am pretty fucking good at it. And very convincing.

And I can see now that my knowing how to love but not who to love, how much pain and suffering that has caused me.  How many poor choices I have made, repeatedly.  And I can see that knowing how to love and support and stand by the man that doesn’t appreciate me or all that I am giving, was the perfect fit for the man that didn’t know how to love but knew that I was a good idea.

I feel like I am in a new place with all of this.  Mired in all the histrionics and drama of the past for a long time and honestly I felt condemned to the love life I have repeatedly selected.  But I will tell you that the last one, that one broke me.  Broke me in the best way, his behavior so egregious and fucked up that I had to really look at myself because I was the one putting up with all that fucking bullshit.  I was the one that was rewriting all his bad actions, I was the one giving the passes, I was the one who was tolerating the substandard behavior, the very sporadic attention and love and absolutely horrific communication.  Me, it was me that was putting up with all his fucking bullshit and calling it love all the while. It didn't feel loving, like at all, but I kept insisting that it was. Poor, silly me.

It has been almost a year now since I cut all ties with him.  He still tries to win me back with pathetic one liners like “I miss you.”  I am sure you do!  Miss having me pay for everything, feed you, house you, and believe all your bullshit.  For what?  What did I get?  I got someone to lie my head on his chest at night and feel safe, even though I wasn’t at all, for a few minutes. I cut some bad deals in my life, but this one, it was absolutely the worst. But a bottom sufficient to bring about a change in behavior...which will hopefully, one day, lead to a new beginning.

I have talked with a lot of my female friends and I will let you in on a little secret:  this is what we all want.  Not money, or status or fancy trips or even hot sex (although I am not giving up on that either!). But the general consensus of all my single female friends is that we all want a man to cuddle up next to at night that we feel has our back, someone we can depend on, someone who will ensure that we are safe, and loved and cared for. And for all of us, this image of us lying our head on his chest is what makes us all swoon.

For me, that desire to feel like I don’t have combat the world all by myself has been my kryptonite.  I have cut some very awful deals to have a few minutes when I didn’t feel all alone in this world and like everything, absolutely everything was all up to me.  I have given away a lot to just have the feeling that maybe, just maybe I could rely on someone else and feel safe...I have been wrong about that often.

Of course, I am broken so my selection of that person has been poor.  Knowing how to love but then not being able to select a good person to give it to is not an easy path in this life.  It is kind of like I have this amazing diamond but I just keep risking it with peddlers, thieves and narcissists.  And then pretending like those men are better than what they actually are. Thereby justifying my actions so that I can start the whole process over once again.

I do not mean to condemn all the men I have dated who were good, decent and likely very capable of loving back, the fact that I refused to allow them further entrance, my own dysfunction every single time.

And when I look at the broken men I have attracted to my life, I can see that they knew a good thing when they saw it.  They knew who to love, but once we got it going, they totally did not know how to do it.  And when I see them in this light, with this filter, I am filled with compassion for both of us.  That neither of us really knew what the fuck we were doing.  And I have to give credit for the repeated tries, the attempts and even the failures.

I have done my work to heal those parts of me that pick broken.  Now I guess I hope to find someone who can recognize their own wounds and has attended to them to a degree that they can show up and commit to working on a relationship as a spiritual endeavor.  A sacred contract of evolution, love and passionate inquiry.

My days putting up with a bunch of crap are over.  I will never accept crumbs again and starve while the man I love lives fat and happy.  I have healed that particular level of my own brokenness.  Thankfully and about fucking time!

And if I can’t ever find a safe man that I am attracted to who can provide me the safety of an intimate place to rest my head and body at the end of a long day, ok.  I accept that. But I will never settle for less than that. And that statement, in and of itself, evinces a healing that has been a long time coming.

I do not want to do the rest of my life alone. But I will never accept broken half hearted bullshit as love and call it that again. I have healed beyond that particular dysfunction and that feels good to say, most especially with confidence and conviction.

I guess in the end, healing is about coming to have your own back.  To providing safety for yourself.  In the men you choose to date and love.  And the ones you allow to occupy the most sacred place next to you every night.

Again...still.