I’ve only ever known one type of love; love that is conditional.
This is the definitive definition of love that the voice of my anxiety worked deep into my brain, canceling out all others. Love that is conditional.
According to my anxiety, I am constantly at risk of losing the love I’ve earned, and therefore I need to work doubletime to keep that from happening.
You could actually replace the word “love” with any word or phrase representing something I value, that I’ve earned.
“Respect.”
“Trust.”
“A reputation for being a strong teacher.”
I feel as though there is nothing inherently true about me that makes me worthy of these things. If I’ve earned it, I’ve worked for it. If I don’t keep working for it, I will lose it. I operate perpetually in a deficit mentality.
This is why I was always good at school. Once I earned a perfect GPA, I had to keep earning it. Because anything short of perfect would be a failure. Then my reputation for being a student my teachers could rely on to make their job easier, would crumble. My parents’ pride in me would crumble.
See, my perfection has always been measured in the acceptance of others. And I didn’t realize this fact until like 6 days ago.
YA WANNA KNOW HOW, AT 29, I FINALLY REALIZED IT?
There is a specific pattern of behavior I had already identified in myself: I tend to obsessively bend over backwards to please new people that come into my life. This behavior often leads to relationships based on taking advantage of what I’m willing to do for people, rather than people knowing and loving me for who I am.
I never really understood where this behavior came from, but once I identified it, I knew I didn’t like it. So I have been actively trying to make friends lately based on exactly who I am, rather than what I can do to make them like me (this is actually something I’ve been working on in therapy for years, prior to my mental breakdown).
And weirdly, it’s been working. I’ve met, and gotten close to, a few really cool people this way. They are genuine, interesting, both similar to and different from me, and helping me access parts of my creative side that I have been neglecting for my entire life.
One day recently, I was having a conversation with one of my new friends about our gratitude for having found each other. And it hit me how valuable this person has become to me. Then my anxiety kicked in.
Sidenote: on a macro-level, I also find it very sad that the realization that someone values me triggers my anxiety, rather than making me feel good about myself. But, one thing at a time…
Once I realized this new friendship was something I wouldn’t want to lose, I became obsessed with the idea I was going to lose it (OCD).
And, let’s just say, I started acting weird.
Luckily, said new friend is a real one, and called me on it. And, after a genuine conversation (thank goodness for adult relationships) I realized this about myself:
My obsessive need to get the approval of others comes from a desperate fear of abandonment. I fear that my inability to repeatedly prove myself relevant and worthy will result in losing everything I want and love.
This realization was suffocating.
Essentially, I had made this genuine friendship based on exactly who I am and then got terrified that wouldn’t be enough to keep it. So I started overanalyzing every single thing so I could make myself “perfect” and “exactly what he was looking for.”
But, when I started acting like that, it wasn’t what he was looking for.
Because what he was looking for was the friend he had made. The person I was when I wasn’t desperately seeking his approval. The person I was when I was just myself (and he actually fought my bratty ass to prove this to me and get me back, which is truly incredible).
This was a powerful epiphany.
It sucked the bottom out from under me. I was finally able to see my responsibility in the failure of most of my failed relationships (I refuse to take credit for all of them, other people can do shitty things too). I was finally able to see why a lot of my lasting relationships were ones based on using me. I can finally identify the thoughts I have that lead me to feelings and behaviors associated with this specific manifestation of my anxiety. I finally feel as though I have healthy, genuine relationships I can point to as evidence that those thoughts aren’t valid.
And, with a deep breath, I am finally able to release the stress. I can finally exhale the anxiety of never being able to make a mistake, or ask for help, or assert my needs.
I can show people my fragile side, because now I know they won’t judge me.
Or desert me.
Or get sick of me.
So, what’s next?
Well, unfortunately, with any revelation, comes a lot of emotions. I have initiated an intense grieving process for all the years I’ve refused to allow myself to feel loved. I’ve been pretty emotional, but I have also been utilizing my skills and my support system to get me through.
Also, self-knowledge like this doesn’t necessarily mean I am “better.” All of this doesn’t mean that I will have easy, genuine, stable relationships from now on. I still have issues with trust that I need to work on. Not to mention PTSD. And years of habit-forming in relationships that I will have to battle one trigger at a time.
But, at this moment, I am grateful. I am grateful for the people in my life with whom I have built genuine relationships.
I am grateful for the people in my life who are showing up when I need them most and talking me through my bullshit.
I am grateful for every sip of freer air I get to take as I’m able to lift the weight of these realizations off my chest.
Thank you for reading.
An Experiment with Vulnerability 