Self-Inflicted Pain

by bye2mrwrong

When we stick our fingers in the fire,why are we so surprised when we get burned?

People hurt themselves in many ways. Some starve their bodies to look beautiful; others cut themselves in order to feel a sense of control. Some get addicted to drugs in hopes of not having to deal with overwhelming feelings. Me, I just fall for the wrong men; and when I fall, I fall hard.

When I fall head over heels for someone I seem to always lose my sense of self. I give my self completely to love and let myself be consumed by its illusion. Insecurities drown me and I willingly allow myself to be bruised and battered. I need to know that someone is desperate to give me their love, that they consider me theirs, and that they will love me when I don’t love myself.

For each man I loved, I wept. At 20, however, I could pick myself up just as quickly as I had fallen. Love was momentary. Moments of lust were fleeting and so in a blink of an eye, like a butterfly I could fly away to my next destination; disappear without worries, without regret, without looking back. But letting go gets harder with age. Love becomes more intense and with it so does the heartache. It’s like that with everything, I think. As children were not afraid to fall and bruise ourselves. But as we grow up we realize the consequences of that fall, and we become afraid of the pain.

Breakups nowadays are different. They hurt more, they last longer. Wounds that never completely heal, scars that are always somewhat visible. Each break up feels more cruel than the last. Each pain feels so hurtful, so real, so intense. Each broke my heart, shattering it into a million pieces. They left me to wonder if I am a failure, undeserving of love; not good enough, or smart enough, pretty enough or sexy enough. They left me staring at myself in the mirror, looking at the fool looking back at me and wondering if their dying love was a reflection of my flaws.

I’m not sure who I’m really whining about: My soon to be ex-husband or Mr. Temptation. Or maybe I’m still just moaning about the idea of love; the idea that fell through just when I started to get my hopes up. As much as it was good to know that I could love again, to do so I had to become vulnerable and open up my heart. And so with love failing me again, it feels like a double break up, double pain, and double the trouble.


3 Comments to “Self-Inflicted Pain”

  1. This was really beautiful and sad. I think you are right about breakups hurting more as you get older – you are more invested and much less time to get on with the rest of your life, you know? When a relationship ends at 22, you are all, “I’ve got tons of time, I’m young, blah blah blah.” Now it feels more real – that stakes are realer, as are the consequences. I never imagined it would be this way.

  2. The pain won’t last forever. You are recovering. You are worthy.



  3. Hugs. You’ll come through – you know you will.


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