The Almighty Cling
Funny enough, this doesn’t have to do with your obsessions where I am concerned (which, over time, I’d come actually to find reassuring). An obsession that has slacked quite a bit over the two years that our issues have been ongoing.
It’s about what took the place of your obsession.
Instead of wanting to know how my day was, it was all about “did you think about me?” Instead of expressing that you missed me on any particular day, it was “did you miss me? do you still love me?”
Instead of expressing interest in me, it became all about you, and about your worries and fears of losing me.
It was the difference between a crushing hug and draped arm around me to hold me close, and the grappling clinging hands of desperation that I couldn’t assuage or appease.
No matter what I said or how hard I tried, it was never enough.
This is something that I usually deal with in my personal estimation of myself, but I was unprepared to deal with feeling that judgement from another… even if not directly expressed as such.
In the over nine years we have been together, you have always shared your troubles with me and let me help you with the burden of your worries. But this was different. And, in some ways, perhaps it isn’t only that, but also that you stopped helping me with my own.
You stopped asking. You stopped caring… or maybe you just stopped showing me you cared. All you cared about was your own fears and worries and desperation. Mine didn’t matter and became invisible to you, where once you were so keen on watching me and watching over me that I didn’t even need to express them and you picked up on it.
I went from someone at the beginning of our relationship who always tried to hide their problems and issues, and yet you dug them out anyway, perceptive in picking them up and digging until you found their roots…. To someone that was used to you picking these things up and didn’t fight so hard to hide them anymore.
To no longer hiding them not because you always dug them out, but because you stopped. My issues could be broadcast right on my sleeve, written across my chest, or blazoned over my forehead…. but you weren’t interested because you were too preoccupied elsewhere. You weren’t looking anymore for anything other than “is he leaving me??”
This left me feeling crippled, and rather than allow my vulnerability to be seen by all and become something that could be dangerous to me and you both, I closed it all away and shut it all down. You weren’t there to protect me and support me any longer, so I had to find a way to do it myself and thus fell back on old habits.