I Might Catch A Glimpse of Me

by Susan Pogorzelski on July 6, 2008 · 2 comments

It’s been a little over four years since I’ve been in a significant, long-term relationship (I know, trust me, I know). It was actually my first relationship ever, as we had been together since we were sixteen. He was my best friend and my first love; he challenged me, brought out a side of me I never knew existed, was there for me through my anxiety attacks and, probably unknowingly, helped me to truly understand and define myself. Throughout these years, I grew into a person I was proud to be; independent and confident, I could be myself, and I was not only accepted for it, but I was loved.

Eventually, we grew up and grew apart, although we still keep in contact every once in awhile. Because he had such an impact on me, on my life, it took a very long time for me to heal. I had met some people since then, but, for various reasons, it had never really turned into anything substantial. I often wonder if, perhaps subconsciously, I had been sabotaging myself, if maybe I was looking too hard for a chance to duplicate those feelings from that first relationship again.

In hindsight, I probably was too eager to jump back into a relationship because of the way it made me feel — strong, beautiful, special. It had always been hard for me to let go of things for fear that it meant losing them forever, not understanding that change and loss aren’t necessarily synonymous. I’ve since reconciled this fact, but some of that fear still lingers, faintly, even now. As much as I hate to admit it, as selfish and petty as it sounds, I think I feared letting go, wanting to hang on for as long as I could, because of the feelings I associated with it; I didn’t want to lose the way I felt about myself.

I didn’t want to feel the way I do now.

Something happens when you lose all faith in yourself — it’s not just a loss of confidence in your ability, but it’s a loss of everything that makes you you. You lose that charm, that vivaciousness, that bubbly personality that makes you shine. You lose yourself. You begin to forget all of your good qualities, and all sense of self-worth seem to fade away. And once that happens, it’s very, very difficult to find it again.

And if you can’t see how special you are, how are others going to?

I’ve been single for a very long time, and yet I think this is the first time I’ve been able to appreciate it for what it means. I was convinced that I was ready for another relationship, but I think that I was just fooling myself. Or maybe I really was ready, at the time, but now, with so much uncertainty in regards to my future and my career, maybe I need to take a step back once more.

I thought that I had it all figured out before, but I’m learning that it’s not as cut and dry as it seems. The search for self-identity doesn’t end once you stop tacking “teen” onto the end of your age; it’s a process that requires reflection and patience and even more reflection (and a lot more patience).

Because you’re constantly changing and growing, you’re also constantly rediscovering and redefining yourself.  I’ve said before that even though I’m in my twenties, I still feel very much like a little girl.  Maybe now it’s time for me to rediscover and redefine myself as an adult, as a woman, to figure out and understand, once again, who I am as an independent individual. 

That’s not to say that I don’t hope to meet someone with whom I have a connection again. Of course, I miss the silly flirtations and long conversations and everything else that comes from being attracted to someone.

But right now, and most importantly, I miss myself even more.

It’s time for that to change.

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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

petecindy January 30, 2009

Also, for me, part of getting myself back, (because I can relate to the low self-worth period you have found yourself in) has been, even in my forties, it’s okay to be a “little girl” because that is only an aspect of me.

After trying to grow up and trying to grow up, one day I did find that special someone who cherishes me and in that love I get to be all my selves–all my ages–because that’s who I am.

Yes, I am becoming more responsible, poised, wise as time goes on but I also get to lean into him in that special way …

I don’t doubt that you will meet someone just right for you. And that you can stop sabotaging and let love in.

I recently began consciously choosing to let love in. My old habit is to be completely happy and then suddenly begin withholding affection and being critical. It sucks and I hate it when I do that. I did it with my high school boyfriend and I haven’t loved anyone as much as I do my current fiance, since.

I noticed I began doing very similar behaviours. They worked with me on a BlogTalkRadio show the other day it was really neat! (It’s one of the most recent things I linked to on my rawprincess954.blogspot.com btw if you want to try it along with the show.) I became the client *grins*.

Thanks for all your musings and sharing on the balance of art and life. I was once at a place called Zendik Farm which now I can hardly recommend. Nope. But one of the passions and strivings for balance I came away with was the most important thing for an artist or musician is to keep working.

That’s what I see you doing and that’s why I keep reading!
cindy

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twentyorsomething February 10, 2009

Cindy,

Thanks so much for your insightful comment! I love how you say that being a little girl is “only an aspect” of you. For so long, I feared growing up, feared leaving my childhood behind, foolishly not realizing that who I was then is still a part of who I am now. Grown and changed, a little smarter and a little wiser, but still there. I don’t think you ever lose that. I’ve since come to realize this, to appreciate it, to accept it. And I do know that I’ll find someone who will appreciate this aspect of me. I’m so glad that you were able to find that for yourself, as well.

I will definitely be checking out that link! It’s something I’m really working towards. Unfortunately, I found that I had been so hurt (and surprised) by the ending of that relationship that I’ve unconsciously closed myself off from affection. It’s something I’m aware of now, something that I’m working on. Something, like you, I hope to be able to learn from and find again.

Thanks so much for your comments and insight; it really has helped me to glean a better understanding of my situation — and to look forward to what’s to come. Wishing you the very best!

Susan

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