i saw 'he's just not that into you' today... i think it brought up emotions that i'd rather lay to rest. from as far back as i can remember, i loved wallowing. maybe it was slightly masochistic, but i couldn't help feeling to the full extent any feeling that came my way. and even after it had seemingly left.... i'd relive the moments when i felt heartache, betrayal, jealousy, hurt.. the list goes on. as soon as the wound was healing, i'd rip out the stitches... reopen the wound... just to feel the pain because i could. because i wanted to feel, and feel deeply. maybe i'm looking to much into it, but i can't explain why i would overanalyze, replay memories until i felt sick to my stomach, recall stories that would bring me to tears... i thought, back then, that i was continually learning from my past. but really, i was enjoying the melancholy each bout of weeping inevitably would bring on. in a constant state of mourning for my love life, i played the victim out so well. i was never the hero. until... i changed my mind.
i'm learning in abnormal psych (yes... abnormal...) about the different models of psychology. i've learned them before, but i never really thought about which one i believed more. i think they all have some truth to them, but i would never really rely solely on one theory. but as i study each one, i've realized that i most often relate to the cognitive theory. that a lot of abnormal functioning (or even normal functioning that isn't quite "Crazy" but borderline).. has to do with the way you think. i believe that you have the ability to control a lot about yourself if you just think differently. of course, i believe other factors may exist... but the mind is a very powerful thing.. and when i decided to change my way of thinking, about myself and about relationships in general.. i was sort of healed.
it sounds ridiculous, but i used to WANT to be sad. i craved a lonely heart because it was all i knew how to feel. i had never experienced anything remotely good or healthy with a guy.. and so i relied on what i did know, and that was exaggerated heartache. until, like i said, i had had enough. with each failed attempt at a relationship (and i cringed because i've written that phrase far too many times in my life, no doubt referring back to these days in a devastatingly depressive blog about how i suck at love, all the while feeling comforted by my sorrow).. a part of me started thinking differently. each time, i'd realized something new. not in the sense that i didn't already know it before, but i had never lived it before. never realized that i had to really believe it and act upon that knowledge in order for it to mean anything at all. i could tell myself a hundred times that i deserved better, but i never did anything about it. i could say i shouldn't waste my time on someone who isn't willing to waste their time on me, but if i never stopped wasting my time.. knowing that i should meant nothing.
but something happened, something clicked. i changed my mind. i had to change my mind or else i'd forever be stuck in the same cycle, hurting and rejected and wondering what i did wrong. i changed my mind -- i wasn't going to do anything wrong. i was going to be upfront about what i wanted. i wasn't going to let myself be the victim. i wasn't going to chase after any guy. i wasn't going to settle. he was going to call. he was going to care. he was going to be there for me whenever i needed him. and in turn, i would do the same. and the minute i changed my mind, i met him.
i don't know if that makes me the exception, but i'm just happy i changed my mind when i did. because, although i may not be perfect... i may still wallow in the past... and i may still cringe at the pictures of past boyfriend(ishs), but i still haven't deleted those pictures. somewhere inside me, i still have a tendency to want to feel those horrible feelings. but i push those tendencies far away, and they rarely, if ever, creep up... because the feelings i get to feel now, make me feel more alive than i've ever felt.
in summary, i need to burn my shoeboxes.
