The important relationship.

[Corda1983]

My grandfather died when I was twenty seven. It was the first time I'd had to deal with the loss of someone near to me. Several years later, my Nan, who I was incredibly close to, also lost her life. I remember being upset and feeling nostalgic for the times now gone but, in honesty, the pain itself was limited. Both were old, both had suffered from long-term illnesses; their time had simply come. There was a certain peace in that. There was sadness, but their deaths were not a tragedy, they were simply the end of something that had to end.

 

I'm now thirty three and just experienced my first real break up a month ago. A relatively short relationship, only nine months, it came to an end for no particular reason. Some miscommunication, a little neglect, nothing that couldn't have been resolved, nothing that I couldn't own up to on my half, nothing that I didn't accept. She, however, was unwilling to try. She felt the connection had been lost, was already deeply pessimistic about relationships, simply felt it was not worth continuing with. Or perhaps it was simply that she had lost attraction over the last few weeks. The allure of the new and the fresh called to her, and she answered. She was certainly wild in her own way, a restless spirit, seeking the thrill that comes so easy to new relationships with new people. I have my doubts it would ever have really lasted over the course of years or decades, and yet I did not expect it to end so soon, over so little.

 

It hit me in ways I didn't expect. I had experienced grief before; the loss of my grandparents, my mother's diagnosis with a terminal illness that she thankfully continues to fight. I knew what it meant to hurt, to be trapped by a situation outside of my control, but never before had I felt this kind of pain. I felt useless, rejected, my heart hurt. I longed for her, to reach out to her and talk it through, though thankfully I didn't. I wanted it to be alright again. I wanted to atone for my mistakes. Brief and shallow though they had been, I had made them and I was haunted by them, by what might have been.

 

There was no peace in this pain, no sense of rest in the death of this relationship. I felt like it was something worth saving, something that I had personally ruined, though I know that's not the entire truth of it, there's always two sides to the story. Something that had gone wrong that should not have gone wrong. I knew grief, but never before had I been unable to accept it. I tell the story of my grandparents' death to make a point; all things must end, and it is sometimes easy to see when that end has come, and to be at some peace with that. And in many ways this woman is now dead to me; I mean that not in a callous way, but in the sense that I have lost her and friendship is of no interest to me, and I doubt we will ever have much, if anything, to do with each other again. It is a special type of pain to feel that way about someone you care about, knowing they are out there living their life, possibly meeting new people they will go on to experience new relationships with. I say it feels like she is dead to me, but sometimes I feel like I am the ghost.

 

Whilst it may seem unfair to talk about it this way, I did not feel this relationship had died. I felt it had been murdered. Ended by somebody I cared about, without my consent, before its time. It hurt to my core that it could come crashing down so quickly.

 

Something, however, was nagging me. I was, of course, sad that the relationship had come to an end, but why? For all the fun we had, she was a self-confessed commitmentphobe, someone who was always looking for something new, something great. Something, I suspect, is unattainable; the feeling of falling in love forever, the endless easy romance. I do not say this to criticise, she is a wonderful woman who I miss deeply, and she had her reasons to be annoyed with me. But at the first sign of trouble, the thought of something new and fresh appealed to her, and ultimately she chose that over me. There had been no cheating, no betrayal. She simply felt things had run their course, that the relationship was too much work, and I felt abandoned and rejected by her choice. Perhaps she was right in her choice. Perhaps there is no right.

 

But the real revelation was not so much that I was upset at losing her and feeling I had made mistakes I could have avoided, but of what I am left with. I miss her company, I miss spending time with her, I miss making plans with her. I miss feeling close to her, I miss knowing that she feels close to me.

 

All relationships are about what you give and what you take. At heart, they are all essentially selfish transactions; without personal benefit, any balanced person would not stay in a relationship. Whilst there must be some selflessness in a true relationship, whilst you must be prepared to give and not expect to receive, I realised something important in losing her and what she gave me: all relationships are relationships with yourself.

 

This woman made me feel needed, wanted, thought about. She made me feel like I had plans in my life, a direction, something to aim for, someone to share things with. She made me feel good about myself. Now she is gone, I feel alone. In some ways, I feel scared. I feel I have lost a good thing, flawed though it may have been, and I'm not sure what to replace it with. At the root of all this is one fundamental issue: she has removed herself as a component from the relationship with myself, and I am forced to see once again how poor that relationship is.

 

And that is the blessing in disguise.

 

I realised that in some ways I am a love addict, a codependent. That spending time with her, receiving texts and calls from her, being in her life, sharing in her plans, being intimate with her, distracted from the fact that I myself am not making the progress I should be. That whilst I am far from a self loather, I am underachieving; in my career, in my relationships, emotionally. I am unfulfilled, restless. There are things I do not know about myself that I should know about myself. There are truths about myself that I have not faced up to. There is pain to process. But there are also opportunities to explore.

 

Whatever the specific reasons our relationship ended, or lack of them, at heart the problem I suspect on both our sides was that the relationship we had with ourselves was not sufficient. She is a dreamer, scared of commitment, easy to frighten away, probably subconsciously looking for a reason to get out and find something new at the first opportunity. I am a worrier, I feel unfulfilled, my lack of self worth bled through the veneer of confidence and grace I had hid behind, I lost my attraction because I didn't have the energy to sustain it, at my core there was simply not enough, I had not discovered myself to the extent I could be with someone else. I have something to offer someone, but right now it is not enough. I need to be with myself, to love myself, to find myself, to fix myself, and then to give myself whole to somebody who is ready to receive me. We were both broken and the relationship could not fix either of us, but I had made the mistake of not seeing that.

 

To be upset at losing something special to you is obvious. I was upset when my grandparents died, but that grief was proportional. They were old, their time had come. But losing my girlfriend hurt me in ways I didn't know I could hurt. And the reason the pain was altogether different was because, truthfully, my relationship with her became my validation, my reason. I stopped thinking about myself, my own goals became secondary. I could not give myself fully because I did not know myself fully.

 

At the end of all this I have one simple message that I have taken from this ordeal. If you particularly hurt after the loss of a relationship, if you feel rejection, shame, anger, betrayal, if you feel lost, and the burning desire to fix what went wrong, the chances are that it is really the relationship with yourself that is the problem. To grieve losing someone is normal, and healthy, but to feel an intolerable sense of anguish suggests that you need something from them you should not ask of another person. That somewhere deep down is a lack of confidence, of self esteem, of purpose, of reason, of drive or motivation or understanding. That you are unable to be with yourself and by yourself and be happy with that.

 

So many people ask: how do I fix my relationship? How do I get them back? How do I not make the same mistakes again? If there is an answer to any of those questions, I am beginning to believe it starts at the deepest level with the relationship with yourself. And I find great comfort in the thought that this is one relationship that can always be improved, that will never have to break up.

 

So mourn your loss, feel your pain. But do not tolerate that hole you cannot fill. Do not accept that sense of restlessness and inadequacy. Do not believe that you will never get over it, or that you cannot move on. For, truthfully, if that is how you feel, then I believe the problem is not truly the relationship you lost with the other person, it is the relationship you have with yourself.

[Deadmeat]

My grandfather died when I was twenty seven. It was the first time I'd had to deal with the loss of someone near to me. Several years later, my Nan, who I was incredibly close to, also lost her life. I remember being upset and feeling nostalgic for the times now gone but, in honesty, the pain itself was limited. Both were old, both had suffered from long-term illnesses; their time had simply come. There was a certain peace in that. There was sadness, but their deaths were not a tragedy, they were simply the end of something that had to end.

 

I'm now thirty three and just experienced my first real break up a month ago. A relatively short relationship, only nine months, it came to an end for no particular reason. Some miscommunication, a little neglect, nothing that couldn't have been resolved, nothing that I couldn't own up to on my half, nothing that I didn't accept. She, however, was unwilling to try. She felt the connection had been lost, was already deeply pessimistic about relationships, simply felt it was not worth continuing with. Or perhaps it was simply that she had lost attraction over the last few weeks. The allure of the new and the fresh called to her, and she answered. She was certainly wild in her own way, a restless spirit, seeking the thrill that comes so easy to new relationships with new people. I have my doubts it would ever have really lasted over the course of years or decades, and yet I did not expect it to end so soon, over so little.

 

It hit me in ways I didn't expect. I had experienced grief before; the loss of my grandparents, my mother's diagnosis with a terminal illness that she thankfully continues to fight. I knew what it meant to hurt, to be trapped by a situation outside of my control, but never before had I felt this kind of pain. I felt useless, rejected, my heart hurt. I longed for her, to reach out to her and talk it through, though thankfully I didn't. I wanted it to be alright again. I wanted to atone for my mistakes. Brief and shallow though they had been, I had made them and I was haunted by them, by what might have been.

 

There was no peace in this pain, no sense of rest in the death of this relationship. I felt like it was something worth saving, something that I had personally ruined, though I know that's not the entire truth of it, there's always two sides to the story. Something that had gone wrong that should not have gone wrong. I knew grief, but never before had I been unable to accept it. I tell the story of my grandparents' death to make a point; all things must end, and it is sometimes easy to see when that end has come, and to be at some peace with that. And in many ways this woman is now dead to me; I mean that not in a callous way, but in the sense that I have lost her and friendship is of no interest to me, and I doubt we will ever have much, if anything, to do with each other again. It is a special type of pain to feel that way about someone you care about, knowing they are out there living their life, possibly meeting new people they will go on to experience new relationships with. I say it feels like she is dead to me, but sometimes I feel like I am the ghost.

 

Whilst it may seem unfair to talk about it this way, I did not feel this relationship had died. I felt it had been murdered. Ended by somebody I cared about, without my consent, before its time. It hurt to my core that it could come crashing down so quickly.

 

Something, however, was nagging me. I was, of course, sad that the relationship had come to an end, but why? For all the fun we had, she was a self-confessed commitmentphobe, someone who was always looking for something new, something great. Something, I suspect, is unattainable; the feeling of falling in love forever, the endless easy romance. I do not say this to criticise, she is a wonderful woman who I miss deeply, and she had her reasons to be annoyed with me. But at the first sign of trouble, the thought of something new and fresh appealed to her, and ultimately she chose that over me. There had been no cheating, no betrayal. She simply felt things had run their course, that the relationship was too much work, and I felt abandoned and rejected by her choice. Perhaps she was right in her choice. Perhaps there is no right.

 

But the real revelation was not so much that I was upset at losing her and feeling I had made mistakes I could have avoided, but of what I am left with. I miss her company, I miss spending time with her, I miss making plans with her. I miss feeling close to her, I miss knowing that she feels close to me.

 

All relationships are about what you give and what you take. At heart, they are all essentially selfish transactions; without personal benefit, any balanced person would not stay in a relationship. Whilst there must be some selflessness in a true relationship, whilst you must be prepared to give and not expect to receive, I realised something important in losing her and what she gave me: all relationships are relationships with yourself.

 

This woman made me feel needed, wanted, thought about. She made me feel like I had plans in my life, a direction, something to aim for, someone to share things with. She made me feel good about myself. Now she is gone, I feel alone. In some ways, I feel scared. I feel I have lost a good thing, flawed though it may have been, and I'm not sure what to replace it with. At the root of all this is one fundamental issue: she has removed herself as a component from the relationship with myself, and I am forced to see once again how poor that relationship is.

 

And that is the blessing in disguise.

 

I realised that in some ways I am a love addict, a codependent. That spending time with her, receiving texts and calls from her, being in her life, sharing in her plans, being intimate with her, distracted from the fact that I myself am not making the progress I should be. That whilst I am far from a self loather, I am underachieving; in my career, in my relationships, emotionally. I am unfulfilled, restless. There are things I do not know about myself that I should know about myself. There are truths about myself that I have not faced up to. There is pain to process. But there are also opportunities to explore.

 

Whatever the specific reasons our relationship ended, or lack of them, at heart the problem I suspect on both our sides was that the relationship we had with ourselves was not sufficient. She is a dreamer, scared of commitment, easy to frighten away, probably subconsciously looking for a reason to get out and find something new at the first opportunity. I am a worrier, I feel unfulfilled, my lack of self worth bled through the veneer of confidence and grace I had hid behind, I lost my attraction because I didn't have the energy to sustain it, at my core there was simply not enough, I had not discovered myself to the extent I could be with someone else. I have something to offer someone, but right now it is not enough. I need to be with myself, to love myself, to find myself, to fix myself, and then to give myself whole to somebody who is ready to receive me. We were both broken and the relationship could not fix either of us, but I had made the mistake of not seeing that.

 

To be upset at losing something special to you is obvious. I was upset when my grandparents died, but that grief was proportional. They were old, their time had come. But losing my girlfriend hurt me in ways I didn't know I could hurt. And the reason the pain was altogether different was because, truthfully, my relationship with her became my validation, my reason. I stopped thinking about myself, my own goals became secondary. I could not give myself fully because I did not know myself fully.

 

At the end of all this I have one simple message that I have taken from this ordeal. If you particularly hurt after the loss of a relationship, if you feel rejection, shame, anger, betrayal, if you feel lost, and the burning desire to fix what went wrong, the chances are that it is really the relationship with yourself that is the problem. To grieve losing someone is normal, and healthy, but to feel an intolerable sense of anguish suggests that you need something from them you should not ask of another person. That somewhere deep down is a lack of confidence, of self esteem, of purpose, of reason, of drive or motivation or understanding. That you are unable to be with yourself and by yourself and be happy with that.

 

So many people ask: how do I fix my relationship? How do I get them back? How do I not make the same mistakes again? If there is an answer to any of those questions, I am beginning to believe it starts at the deepest level with the relationship with yourself. And I find great comfort in the thought that this is one relationship that can always be improved, that will never have to break up.

 

So mourn your loss, feel your pain. But do not tolerate that hole you cannot fill. Do not accept that sense of restlessness and inadequacy. Do not believe that you will never get over it, or that you cannot move on. For, truthfully, if that is how you feel, then I believe the problem is not truly the relationship you lost with the other person, it is the relationship you have with yourself.

 

 

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Everything you said, and I mean everything resonated with me. I too was broken up with after a short relationship and I was left to deal with a pain I had never experienced before. I realize that too that I cannot truly give myself fully if I do not know.myself fully. I feel like you have taken my feelings and found the words to express them.

 

I am sorry for the loss you are going through. I feel them too. BUT as you say, this is a blessing in disguise. Thank you for that. I cried reading this.

[Satu]

The solution is to spend enough alone to get to the point where you are completely satisfied and happy just with yourself for company.

 

Not many people do this, because most people are either with someone or looking for someone.

 

If you really think about it, when a person is with someone because they don't like being alone, there's something missing.

 

By "alone" I mean not coupled, not dating, no fwb, no casual sex.

 

When you get to that point of being satisfied and happy with yourself, you've really got something of value to bring to a relationship.

 

 

"Language... has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone."

 

- Paul Tillich

 

"You don’t need anyone’s affection or approval in order to be good enough. When someone rejects or abandons or judges you, it isn’t actually about you. It’s about them and their own insecurities, limitations, and needs, and you don’t have to internalize that. Your worth isn’t contingent upon other people’s acceptance of you—it’s something inherent."

 

- Danielle Koepke

 

 

And one last quote:

 

 

“Some grief shows much of love,

But much of grief shows still some want of wit.”

― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

 

 

Take care.

[kvolm2016]

Excellent writing and incredibly insightful as well as so, so true. There can only be a healthy, thriving relationship when both participants are healthy and thriving individuals. And I agree that we are blessed when we recognize that and are motivated to do our part to make the necessary changes. So my question to you is, are you motivated to begin the process of change? And if so, what will your next step be?

[staggerlee71]

Nailed it!!

[CommittedToThis]

A simple truth beautifully expressed.

[pr4589]

I like this but I have one hypothetical question. I totally agree with sustaining and being happy with yourself. So let's say you are 110 % with yourself and you find someone that brings you those butterflies.

 

You fall in love.

 

Things happen weather she's a game player or whatever and 1,2,3 years later you guys break up. You are obviously hurt..BAD. Then what? I thought you were 110 % with yourself? How could you get this hurt? I thought the relationship with yourself was good...Even better, it was great. Basically, is the point here NEVER become dependent because you love yourself so much that if they leave, you don't give a hoot? Then thats not love?

 

See where i'm going? Hope I didn't confuse anyone.

 

Sounds like a cycle of healing and being alone quite often until 1 sticks.

Edited November 22, 2016 by pr4589

[Corda1983]

I like this but I have one hypothetical question. I totally agree with sustaining and being happy with yourself. So let's say you are 110 % with yourself and you find someone that brings you those butterflies.

 

You fall in love.

 

Things happen weather she's a game player or whatever and 1,2,3 years later you guys break up. You are obviously hurt..BAD. Then what? I thought you were 110 % with yourself? How could you get this hurt? I thought the relationship with yourself was good...Even better, it was great. Basically, is the point here NEVER become dependent because you love yourself so much that if they leave, you don't give a hoot? Then thats not love?

 

See where i'm going? Hope I didn't confuse anyone.

 

Sounds like a cycle of healing and being alone quite often until 1 sticks.

 

I think being hurt is fine. That's why I started my anecdote about the death of my grandparents. It hurt when they died and I mourned them. But, and I mean this is in a nice way and not a callous way, their deaths were manageable to me in terms of my own personal grief for two reasons: I could accept their deaths as a natural and acceptable part of the order of things, and from a practical perspective, as much as I loved them and would miss them, they weren't fixing or masking any part of my life - my love for them was unconditional both ways - I did not need them. I think we can accept pain and even learn from it and benefit from it when we remain in control and not-reliant upon the source of that pain.

 

I think that's the distinction I was trying to make. When my girlfriend left me, I was sad and upset, but there was something deeper. Because of some lingering issues with self esteem, because I did not have enough personal ambition, because I had some financial issues and some issues relating to anxiety and codependency, the pain went beyond simply missing her and became a case of feeling like I needed her - like I didn't want to face the other things in my life, or couldn't face them, without the unflinching presence of her. My relationship with her was a refuge and that's not healthy.

 

If you breakup with someone it will hurt and that's a good thing - it's human. But when I was frantically researching things like "how to get an ex back" and "how to heal" I noticed a lot of people's emotions go beyond hurt. There is fear and anger and complete disbelief, and a simple inability to to function without the relationship.

 

I think many people use the feeling of being in love with someone and being loved as what is essentially a band aid and a distraction. Or, if they're not using it as a band aid, they become consumed with the feeling of love and begin to lose sight of themselves. They may become less social, less ambitious, begin trying to please the other person whilst losing sight of their own needs. Very often we enjoy the feeling of being loved because it's masking some deeper lack of love in ourselves, or it's hiding unresolved issues from our past.

 

There is no way to guarantee love will last, especially in today's world, so to that extent I agree it may be a cycle we're compelled to keep going through until we meet somebody who does stick around. But I do believe a lot of people (and I include myself in this) have to learn to love themselves before they can give love and receive love and, in today's world, I think we're finding it increasingly hard to do that. My failed relationship made me confront the hard truth that I cared a lot about how this woman made me feel and how she allowed me to hide from some deeper problems I have. I am simply not in the place to truly give and receive love, and be able to accept the consequences that come along with that vulnerability.

 

Pain is a natural consequence of love, but anguish and existential turmoil probably shouldn't be. The very fact that many people come to these forums feeling not just hurt, but destroyed, by the loss of a relationship demonstrates to my mind two fundamental problems many of us face: they relied on the relationship to make them happy and, by extension, probably didn't have the emotional security or true comfort of self to be able to offer themselves honestly in the relationship.

 

My relationship failed for a variety of small reasons on both sides but, the biggest problem from my side, when all was said and done, was that I was afraid. I acted not out of honest intention but I tried to "manage" the relationship and my position in it. Ultimately I was afraid of losing her or losing my perceived place of "strength" in the relationship. The irony? She lost interest and I was too wrapped up in myself to see the signs and act on them appropriately.

 

No relationship comes with a guarantee but I suspect many of them fail because ultimately we are too dependent on the other person and that makes us self-absorbed and act out of a place of fear and neediness, and not strength and love. By trying to be nice, accommodating, amenable and easy to be with, we end up being weak, indecisive and lacking in experience and strength to offer. Of course this cuts deepest of all because we know deep down we tried so hard, but our efforts came from a place of wanting to make the relationship work instead of being the best, most genuine partner we could be for that person. They were probably initially attracted to those qualities: our sense of fun, optimism, strength, purpose. As the relationship developed, either our own insecurities came to the forefront and the other person saw them, or deep seated personal issues made us become less sure of ourselves as individuals and this eroded the qualities that first brought the two people together.

 

So yes, the death of a relationship will hurt. But if it destroys your sense of self worth and self identity, something deeper and darker is likely going on. You probably have issues you have to deal with, external and/or internal, that have consciously or sub-consciously contributed to the demise of the relationship. If you can identify these demons and banish them, and build a life that is moving forward with purpose and passion, you will then be in a place to love someone and receive their love truly. And, if the relationship doesn't work out, you will be able to manage your pain and move forward, because you will love yourself and your life, however much of it you shared, will be yours. And ironically your attractiveness and the space for people to love you will improve when you are this person: confident, content, free with purpose. It's not a foolproof way to make any relationship last, but it is the best way and the most honest way.

 

Love is vulnerability and that can always bring pain, but if it can destroy you and leave you feeling without a life worth living, something is fundamentally wrong with your relationship with yourself. Fix that, and not only will you be able to deal with break ups, you will have something genuine and powerful to offer the other person that will be real and long lasting, reducing the chances of a break up in the first place.

Edited November 23, 2016 by Corda1983

[pr4589]

Ok so then can you help me understand briefly why I couldn't get over an infatuation with a girl based solely on looks? Besides the shallow aspect of it, I literally couldn't get over how she "threw me in the trash" after dating for a few months. Told me we'd date slow and then "ghosted" me. Very painful. Was blocked and all. I know I'm a good looking guy and my ego was hurt but deep down I know it was more because the pain lasted 6 months. 6 months of pain over a girl I saw a few times.

 

Is the issue with myself that I dont think i'm capable of getting someone as "exotic" looking again? Been trying to figure it out because I went into it with high esteem and confidence and came out wrecked.

Edited November 23, 2016 by pr4589

[Corda1983]

Ok so then can you help me understand briefly why I couldn't get over an infatuation with a girl based solely on looks? Besides the shallow aspect of it, I literally couldn't get over how she "threw me in the trash" after dating for a few months. Told me we'd date slow and then "ghosted" me. Very painful. Was blocked and all. I know I'm a good looking guy and my ego was hurt but deep down I know it was more because the pain lasted 6 months. 6 months of pain over a girl I saw a few times.

 

Is the issue with myself that I dont think i'm capable of getting someone as "exotic" looking again? Been trying to figure it out because I went into it with high esteem and confidence and came out wrecked.

 

It's funny because I also thought I went into my last relationship with high esteem and confidence. She was the one chasing me, practically infatuated with me, and it was very much that way for the first few months. I think that veneer started to waver about 5-6 months in and in fact one of the main reasons we split was because I didn't communicate very well with her at a difficult moment in her life. I didn't shut her out, but perhaps I could have been there for her better. The reason I wasn't was partly because I was afraid of smothering her, as she had her own issues around commitment and falling in love. In trying to give her the space and independence she needed, I probably ended up coming across like I wasn't particularly strong when she needed me to be.

 

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that confidence and esteem can wax and wane, but true inner confidence and comfort is harder. I've had times when I've been confident and attractive but it's often short-lived - it's not really who I am, it's something I can do for a period of time.

 

Regarding your own issues, it's not for me to say, but it's probably the same. I was confident and secure with my ex at first because she was just "another girl" and I was comfortable being single at that point. But as her interest grew and we started seeing each other, over the course of a few months I realised my confidence was, if not fake, then at least not completely authentic. I became increasingly occupied with her and she took up more and more of my thoughts. I fantasised a lot more about how our relationship might develop and became more and more wrapped up in my own thoughts. At heart I was infatuated by her and the relationship, but convinced myself I wasn't.

 

It sounds like you're experiencing feelings similar to me. You're particularly hurt by the rejection and particularly captivated by her beauty. I think, all confidence and esteem aside, I felt deep down I was unworthy and had gotten lucky and needed to cling to her for dear life. When she dumped me, that hurt and rejection just came rushing to the forefront. I know how that feels, like ultimately whatever talents or skills or traits you have some pride in, something in your core just feels like it's not good enough and now you sound (like me) scared that this wonderful opportunity seems to have passed you by and you don't know if or when another one will present itself.

 

Like I say, I think the issues run deeper than the girls themselves. I'm a fairly optimistic, happy-go-lucky guy. I know on top form I'm a pretty smart guy, a pretty funny guy, a pretty interesting guy. But I also know at heart I suffer from a lack of confidence and assertiveness and am somewhat "disconnected" from myself - I find it hard to stride through life with the purpose and ambition I would like, even though I can do it in short bursts. I didn't have a remotely difficult childhood but I think I do have issues relating to the way I was brought up and the friends I chose. I have very loving parents but they raised me to be very passive, and to not stand out or take pride in my differences. I also had a best friend who was something of a bully emotionally - he was very much top dog and although he obviously valued me as a friend, he had no hesitation in exploiting my weaknesses as a person to make himself feel better or in control.

 

So I'd say really look at yourself. That's what I started doing, I stopped thinking so much about the specific thing that had gone wrong in the relationship and started thinking about why I have a hard time being confident but assertive, good and attentive without being a door mat. I didn't get the balance right with my last girlfriend and ultimately overthought it to the point it became about me and not her or the relationship. I wasn't cruel or callous, I just think I wasn't at a place in my life to relax and enjoy the relationship and be who I wanted to be. I tried to walk the line between aloof and attentive and caring but firm and just failed and became absorbed and she lost attraction. In my case I take some comfort (if it can be called that) that she had her own issues with relationships - I didn't do anything horrible or cruel, I just couldn't get out of my head and it must have bled through into the relationship.

 

The very fact most of us are here on a forum prove we're overthinkers, worriers and dreamers. We ponder very heavily on our relationships and feel a great deal of personal pain and disappointment if they fail. Of course there's nothing wrong with analysing a relationship or looking for support, but I think most of us find it hard to accept the mistakes that are made (by either party) and worry incessantly about what might have been if only we'd said this or done that. At heart, we're looking to fix our relationships because we want our relationships to fix us - at least that's how it seems to me.

 

I think it's always good to look at your emotional core. Are you happy? Fulfilled? You may be able to enjoy confidence and esteem at times but do you need the approval of other people, or the attention of women, just to feel OK about yourself? Do you have a rich and varied enough personal life that if you meet a woman you have lots to offer her - insight, adventure, inspiration, outlook? Or do you hope to meet a woman to give you some of those things?

 

I know for me, in addition to some confidence and esteem/anxiety issues, my life just doesn't have a lot going on. I need to get myself financially secure and engaging in enough social pursuits that I have something to offer my next girlfriend. I'm by no means a recluse or a wallflower, but I grabbed hold of this relationship with both hands because she provided much of the social interaction I was otherwise missing.

 

No, for me, a real relationship means you have a great life and a great outlook you're excited to share with someone, and would not be destroyed if they rejected your offer to share in that. If you're happy, content, have something to offer and able to truly express yourself without fear but also respect boundaries and remain somewhat detached from outcomes, that's the time to really engage in a relationship. I started out thinking I felt that way with this girl but I realise now it was something of an act, or at least temporary. In the end I'm right back where I started, but now hurting because I've lost someone my heart cares about and I don't have anything to immediately fill that gap. In short, I choked because I knew deep down I wasn't able to be truly relaxed and present and ultimately she caught onto it.

 

So yeah, I'd just say if you're going to obsess about a relationship, make it the one with yourself. Think about who you are, what you've been through, where you know in your heart you lack strength or resourcefulness, and work on fixing it. We all have our demons and nobody can just magic them all away, but if we can lose all sight of ourselves over another person, especially one we were with for just a few months, there's clearly an issue. We may need to look into self-help, therapy, counselling, meditation, exercise, lifestyle change or a combination thereof, but I can almost guarantee there are things we can improve about ourselves and we can become increasingly aware of our mental and emotional shortcomings and find ways of dealing with them.

 

In the meantime, we should try our best to put our exes out of our mind. I find it hard, as I'm sure many of us do. My heart still holds some hope of a reconciliation even though my head knows that's very unlikely. But I tell myself whatever happens in the future, whether I meet someone new or rekindle things with her or never find anybody worthwhile again, my happiness and comfort and strength has to come from within and that is a project and a relationship I can work on night and day. Fixing that will not only be a way of healing, improving and moving forward, but it's the only way I will be able to enter into and sustain a real, healthy relationship with anybody else in the future - so it's best to look inwards and learn to love myself and the rest will fall into place.

Edited November 23, 2016 by Corda1983

[pr4589]

Speaking of "woman" this and "woman" that. She was just a 23 yr old girl. Met her on an app so i assume it was all games to begin with. She's still on it 1 yr later. True player I assume. Doesn't matter who gets hurt in the way of her finding her "husband" lol. I sound bitter but yes indeed this "female" pounced on top of me and had her fun and then bailed later on. Wouldn't even let me talk to her. Just flat out ghosted.

 

Sociopath maybe? Left me ruined because again like said, her middle eastern looks were enough to do it for me yet alone the affection from her.

 

I get what you are saying. I appreciate it. Did not mean to hijack your thread.

[Corda1983]

Speaking of "woman" this and "woman" that. She was just a 23 yr old girl. Met her on an app so i assume it was all games to begin with. She's still on it 1 yr later. True player I assume. Doesn't matter who gets hurt in the way of her finding her "husband" lol. I sound bitter but yes indeed this "female" pounced on top of me and had her fun and then bailed later on. Wouldn't even let me talk to her. Just flat out ghosted.

 

Sociopath maybe? Left me ruined because again like said, her middle eastern looks were enough to do it for me yet alone the affection from her.

 

I get what you are saying. I appreciate it. Did not mean to hijack your thread.

 

It's fine, I appreciate your input!

 

It's hard, this is exactly why I think it's so important to have and maintain a strong, healthy relationship with yourself and put that first. Although I don't believe my ex was a player as such, she sounds similar. She was 27, and I just think she wasn't ready to settle and had fantasies that there would always be something and someone better - some dream of a relationship that would be effortless and permanently exciting. She was scared of having her heart broken and yet at the same time craved someone who would blow away all those fears and be perfect for her in every way. Maybe she will find him, but I have a feeling she will come to realise all relationships require a level of commitment and work at some point, and the pattern will continue.

 

That having been said, there's also no doubt that I wasn't in the place to be the best boyfriend and share a wonderful and exciting life with her. They say a relationship is a battle of who cares less and there's a certain truth to that. Whilst I don't think it's literally about who cares the least, it is about having a wonderful life and personality that the other person can become a part of and that will go on regardless of whether they choose to leave or stay. By having something to offer and seeing what you receive as a bonus to your already bountiful life, you put yourself in the best position to truly enjoy without ever relying on any relationship you find yourself in.

 

It's hard not to become jaded about the whole thing, I know. But all you can do is be a great person who is assertive but has love to give, and lives a life of purpose and momentum, and be willing to share that with someone for as long as either you feel they're worth the time or they feel you're worth the time. If you part company weeks, months or years down the road, you need to make sure your life and your relationship with yourself remains strong and sure enough to be able to cope with the loss, and your life remains full enough to compensate for it.

 

It's a concept I'm only just beginning to understand. To truly love someone and appreciate them you have to not need to rely on them. To truly be attractive and remain attractive you have to have a rich life that you are personally motivated about and inspired by. To truly be with someone you have to be able to walk away, or accept being walked away from. It's only when you are at that point you can genuinely relax into a loving relationship that fits sensibly with the rest of your life.

 

At 23 she just sounds somewhat immature and like she feels there's still too much to experience. Perhaps no matter how handsome, attractive and exciting you were that would always have been the case - it's a big world out there and there is temptation and alternatives everywhere. It's easy to be angry and frustrated with the other person, especially if they seemed to lie to you (at least my ex was always fairly honest about who she was), but we just have to accept what has happened. If it cuts us so deep it forces us to become bitter and question everything, then we were probably never emotionally ready to be in that relationship anyway. We invested more into that person than we could into ourselves and we feel devastated we have lost that.

 

I think it's all about giving and receiving without expectation. If I really had a great life and true strength of character, I would probably be able to accept much more easily that I had a good relationship that came undone, be a little disappointed that it ended so easily, but move on with love and enjoy it for what it was. As it is, I can't help that feeling that she is moving on with her friends and her hobbies and having a great time, and I am left to pick up the pieces and find a way forward. Part of that comes from a personal and emotional weakness and part of it is probably fact but both those things point to the same problem - I didn't have enough of a life and enough esteem and I ended up relying on her to fill up the dead space or mask the personal problems that were in my life. That's a pattern that anybody is doomed to repeat unless they fix themselves and their lives, and go back out there with a greater desire to give than to receive, and a greater detachment from the outcome of the relationship.