I can't seem to fully engage emotionally until relationships have ended

[bluecastle]

In many respects the relationship was the best I'd ever had.

 

I'm curious how this statement sits next to the idea that, throughout the relationship, you wondered why she stayed in it. Just making an observation, but in your shoes that would be something I'd reflect on—or, I should say, something I have reflected on when I've been in versions of your shoes. Guess I can't help but think that some of the guilt you're struggling with may be less connected to various things you could have done differently than to the idea that what made this relationship good for you is what made it a struggle for her.

 

It kind of goes back to the business of having emotional unavailability validated by another's emotions, which invariably becomes about two people connecting on a plane of insecurity: not consciously, not actively, not intentionally. But still. Speaking for myself, I made it a priority when I found myself wrestling with some of this that any relationship I dedicated real time and energy to was going to be one in which I knew, in my deepest cells, I was all in on, sincerely open, heart and mind and spirit. That's hardly a recipe for forever success, as things can go sideways a zillion different ways, but I do think it's a recipe for curbing some of the guilt and shame, be it the whiffs of those feelings in it or the avalanche of them in the wake.

 

It's simply hard to get all up in your head when you're sincerely all up in something. The stuff you're describing, in terms of "stifling" expressions of love, of achieving "true" intimacy, of indifference? To my ears and eyes, at least in the comfort of the bleacher seats, a lot of that boils down to choosing to spend time with someone you're so-so about rather than ga-ga about, with the "terrible" feeling you're describing, at least in part, what happens when that sort of dynamic reveals itself to be what it is, what it was.

 

I will invariably struggle to express affection for, say, certain food that only leaves me half-satisfied when eating it. Do I then try to figure out what's wrong with me, so I can learn praise such meals? Or do I challenge myself to expand my appetite, so the praise comes naturally because being indifferent just isn't an option when something is so satisfying and nourishing?

 

Food for thought, to stretch a metaphor to its breaking point.

[mustard]

I'm curious how this statement sits next to the idea that, throughout the relationship, you wondered why she stayed in it. Just making an observation, but in your shoes that would be something I'd reflect on—or, I should say, something I have reflected on when I've been in versions of your shoes. Guess I can't help but think that some of the guilt you're struggling with may be less connected to various things you could have done differently than to the idea that what made this relationship good for you is what made it a struggle for her.

 

I"ve thought a lot about this over the past several days, and I think what I'm feeling is a multifactorial situation that's taking some time to really parse. I had tremendous trust issues because of things she'd said and done, and I knew that she was capable of manipulating and was willing to lie about anything, really, to escape accountability, to keep people where she wanted them, or to just make her life easier. I knew about this very early on and I decided to love her anyway. I needed that connection, and obviously there were parts who she is and what we were that I deeply enjoyed.

 

Subsequent to this, I'm forcing myself to examine why I never allowed my trust issues to be fully explored together and possibly bring us closer. I understand that I had every reason to walk away a month into the relationship three years ago, but I didn't. But I also didn't allow those feelings to be discussed very often, and quite consciously put them aside after the initial blow-ups/discoveries. I'm reconsidering how I investigate problems in relationships and whether or not my black and white approach made it impossible to adequately address them. I also know that I did some sabotaging, at least in part to avoid having to hold myself accountable and possibly change how I thought about boundaries and where my points of no return are. Couples push through years-long affairs, why couldn't I bring myself to make an earnest effort to rebuild that lost trust?

 

There are also issues with my unusual upbringing that I'm starting to pry apart. I had a very strange, almost spousal relationship with my mother that I distinctly recall being part of in middle school, but likely began much earlier. There was a lot of oversharing, seeking my emotional and social support, and meltdowns/outbursts that would go on for days and weeks at a time. I"m the oldest of a very large family, so as i was a spousal son, i was also a parental sibling. I did not have an emotionally stable or typical childhood.

 

I also absolutely hate losing and nursing the thought of being unable to outwork my limitations or their consequences allows me to still find some way to beat the feelings. There really is nothing I can do though, as she's made it clear that she has no interest in working things out. Right now, at the end of the day, I miss her very very much, and i'm suspicious that even something as productive as trying to learn my from this is just another attempt to flee that pain.

[Wiseman2]

After 3 yrs she had to do what she had to do. Unfortunately, that means you were incompatible as far as long range goals and values.

She is 28 and wants to move in together and get married.

[mustard]

After 3 yrs she had to do what she had to do. Unfortunately, that means you were incompatible as far as long range goals and values.

 

I don't blame her at all for drawing the conclusion that she did and deciding that I was never going to truly commit to her. I tend to perceive relationships as restricting while also valuing that connection very deeply, which manifests in hot and cold behavior and strange boundaries.

[bluecastle]

I knew about this very early on and I decided to love her anyway.

 

This sentence, among others, caught my eye. Personally, I don't think that "love" is something we can decide to feel, or not. Feelings don't quite work that way. We don't decide to be sad, or angry, or disappointed, or in love, no different than how you have no choice but to feel whatever swirl of feelings you're currently reckoning with. We feel them—same way we feel a gust of wind or the cold air in winter—and in feeling them we make various choices, some conscious, others not, in how we react to those feelings. Do I put on a jacket, or go inside? Do I punch the wall, or do 50 pushups? Do I commit to a relationship, or not? The momentum of those choices becomes us.

 

What I can't help but see? These trust issues you had with her, whatever their nature, were not impediments but essential ingredients you were seeking, since they allowed you to get what you wanted (at least subconsciously) from this relationship and/or relationships in general: an exit strategy, a rationalization for hanging out on the fence, a lack of feeling in you validated by an outpouring of feeling from another. You didn't try to rebuild trust, in other words, because you didn't have any sincere interest in that. People build, rebuild, and repair trust when it is essential to them, when they are so firmly planted on one side of the fence that it's a basic survival thing, kind of like how building, rebuilding, and repairing a home is essential to someone who wants to be and feel sheltered inside it.

 

Another word for all that? Control. We think of that word in malicious ways, as something some of us try to exert over others, often aggressively, but there is also a passive means of consolidating control—like, for instance, choosing to be in a relationship with someone who does not trigger in you the richness of feeling you know, on some marrow level, you are capable of experiencing. This is just my observation, of course, but any love that can be "chosen" or "decided on" is a love that is generated more from the brain than the cells, a conceptual sort of love. I can "decide," for example, to try to love certain foods: tasting them, thinking about their taste, musing on the idea that others in the world do love these things—so, perhaps, so too can I? But that's different than biting into something and going: THIS!

 

I bristled a bit at your last two sentences, I admit. Lessons aren't an antidote to pain. Nothing is, really. Not learning, not running, not orgasms and companionship, be it of the rebound or full-emotional-surrender variety. Pain is pain is pain. Time takes care of that, always, just as time will always produce more pain, new pain. But the lessons do help us in how we spend that time on the other side of pain, and working through it whenever it comes back our way, so we don't find ourselves paralyzed when new pain stirs up old, poorly processed pain.

 

What I'd be thinking about right now, if I were you? I'd think about the ways in which what you might be feeling right now—the pain—is a loss of something that you felt you had more control over than you ever did, and then ask yourself if the "safety" of being on the fence is even worth it if, when everything comes apart, you're still left emotionally shredded? Had to stare down some of those questions myself, so I might be projecting, but I'll tell your that little personal duel was a worthy one.

 

My childhood was hardly typical as well, and I've worn its markings with a mix of grace, absurdity, and the occasional weaponizing (internally, externally) of my bs. So it goes, for all of us. But you have now been an adult longer than you were a child, and you have a lot more of this business of being an adult to participate in. So, really, it's your call how you want to spend the currency of your time, yourself. I listen to you here and I hear a tender man who is longing, intensely, to share and enrich that tenderness with another person, which is such a beautiful thing. But I also hear a man being a bit fearful of that surrender and looking for ways to make facsimiles real.

[mustard]

I bristled a bit at your last two sentences, I admit.

 

I'm so sorry if I implied that the advice I was getting was just another form of escape. That was not my meaning at all. I really appreciate your input, your last post especially. I'v read it several times and marvel at the insight, and alongside that feel that my motivations are much more transparent to others than they feel to me.

[bluecastle]

I'm so sorry if I implied that the advice I was getting was just another form of escape. That was not my meaning at all. I really appreciate your input, your last post especially. I'v read it several times and marvel at the insight, and alongside that feel that my motivations are much more transparent to others than they feel to me.

 

Oh, didn’t mean it that way. Just thought you were shortchanging yourself a touch with the idea that lessons are a way to avoid pain.

[mustard]

Welp, I messed up. I reached out to her. I sent her an email detailing my thoughts about my attachment issues and that I'd been going to therapy, among other things. She replied, but it wasn't great. She's expanded the list of reasons for leaving. I had a meltdown last december after discovering that she'd been extremely dishonest with me at a critical time in our reconciliation, and I was cruel to her, including having very cold sex with her. I was absolutely crushed, felt humiliated, and in the fog and emotional chaos of the two days following, I did what i could to make sure she felt like I did. We had talked about it after the fact and it seemed okay, but seven months later, after not mentioning it since, she claims to have been traumatized by it and says I cannot control my anger, though I never so much as raised my voice outside of that incident in our three years together. She said that we were not well-suited for each other but said she didn't think it would be productive to elaborate. she said she's deeply drained after going through this again and that she has no interest in working things out. She said she'd like to be friends some day.

 

The tonal shift form our most recent interaction prior to this was startling. Previously she'd seemed uncertain, saying that she didn't want to walk away but felt like she needed to. She even told me to hold onto her apartment keys. Now, five weeks later, she's totally done and says that she needed to lie to me because I can't control my anger and that, after 3 years, we are ultimately not compatible. I'm shocked at the swiftness with which she reached all of these conclusions, and that she found such firm ground without so much as talking to me about any of these concerns.

 

The finality of it was brutal and odd. I responded, telling her that I wished I"d been given the opportunity to discuss everything and that i was sorry for losing a good chunk of control last winter. I told her that if she ever changed her mind about us, that I'd have lots to say about anything she might want to talk about. I didn't know how else to respond, and it was too painful to say to goodbye to everything without carving out a little space in my heart for another chance at some point.

[bluecastle]

Sorry about this.

 

Much as it hurts, I hope you can use this exchange as a a stepping stone to move forward, rather than continue to spin in the loop you've been in. Another person's feelings, in the end, always demand our respect, and she'd done you a favor in articulating hers with clarity, no ambiguity. You've done the same. End scene.

 

In numerous earlier posts you've made it clear that you spent much of this relationship surprised she stayed in it. Can only imagine that wasn't a recipe for confidence in her, though I'd also imagine it was her own lack of confidence that allowed her to stay in it, if also being something that prevented you from fully investing emotionally. Alas, seems she needed that experience to find a little moxie, to grow further into herself. Don't fret about the specifics here, but just wish her best in your head and heart, and let her continue on that path.

 

And, most critically, give some thought to the sort of path you'd like to carve out for yourself. Reflect on this relationship—same thing she's doing—and ask yourself if you'd like to build your next one with different materials. Look at the life you're living right this second—the choices you're making—and ask yourself if it's pointing you in that direction, or not. Each answer to those questions is an opportunity for adjustment, for leading yourself somewhere new. Hang in there.