Codependent

Why every woman I ever loved was destined to disappoint me.

Idealized love may be the thing that could one day destroy me.

Not because love is dangerous, but because I keep asking it to do things it was never designed to do.

Every time I meet a girl who I think has the potential to someday, possibly be mine, I become a different person. I pour all of my efforts into pursuing the girl, wooing her, impressing her, hoping to make her love me.

Because if I can convince just one girl to love me… maybe I can learn to love myself.

Maybe I can stop questioning my worth as a human being.

I pin all my hopes and expectations on finding the girl. I think that her love, her attention, her approval, is the only thing that can fix me. I need her to fix me. I don’t know how to fix myself.

I know at my core, I am broken. I’m fundamentally flawed. I always have been.

I don’t believe I deserve to get better. I believe I’m rotten to the core, and the world would be a better place without me in it.

The best thing I can do for myself is to just withdraw from everyone, and go to my hole, and wait to die.

I don’t deserve to be alive. I know I don’t deserve to be alive.

But somewhere, there’s a girl with the ability to believe otherwise. Somewhere is a girl who can keep me alive. And maybe, if she really loves me — maybe she can convince me to stay.

I don’t want to stay. I’ve given up on myself so many times, I don’t deserve to stay. But she doesn’t know that about me.

She doesn’t see me that way.

She doesn’t want me to suffer.

She doesn’t want me to be alone.

I want to be strong for her. I want to get better for her. I want to find safety in her. I know I’m not good enough — not brave enough — to save myself. If I’m alone, I’m not even worth saving.

The fact that I’m alone only proves that I’m not worth saving.

But she doesn’t know that. She won’t treat me that way. She will be the thing that saves me. She will be the reason I stay.

She will be the one who makes me happy. She will wash away all my pain.

She will determine my worth. She will give me what I need to be happy. She will give my life meaning and direction. I will exist to make her happy — and she will devote her life to making me whole.

She will understand me. She will support me. She will encourage me to live the life I always wanted, but never believed I deserve.

I don’t know how to do any of these things on my own. But I know she can do it for me.

Without her, I can’t go on. My heart won’t let me. My tears won’t run out. These wounds won’t close, until she is here to heal them.

I can’t do it on my own. I know I’m not able to. I know I don’t deserve to. But she can change me. She can convince me that things are okay. She can pull me out of the mire.

She will see me, and automatically, she will love me. Instinctively, she will know what to do. Effortlessly, she will change me. She will walk into my life and everything will be better.

I’ll be able to smile again. I’ll be free to dream. I will learn how to become the man I’ve always wanted to be! The man God made me to be.

She will fix me. She will understand me.

She will make me want to be alive.

I can’t survive without her. I’m unwilling to try. If it’s just me, I know I’m not worth the effort. I hate myself so much, I don’t want to hear my own name.

Why can’t she be the answer? I need her to be the answer. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t include her.

I’m not good enough. Not strong enough. Not brave enough to try to work on myself, unless she’s there, cheering me on from the sidelines, waiting for me at the finish, willing to be my everything…

Because at my core, I know I am nothing. I am nobody. I’m a problem, a nuisance, a distraction to be avoided on her path to recovery. I don’t deserve her, even if I could have her. I would hurt her.

I would want her to be my everything. I would expect her to solve all my problems. I would make it her job to make me happy; to give me reason to want to stay.

I wouldn’t understand why she couldn’t make me happy. I would blame her for problems I was creating.

I would demand that she make space for me; that she sacrifice her needs for me; that she give me everything I need, when I need it, the way I need it, without me having to tell her what I need, because I will expect her to intuitively know all my needs, without fail, without question, without hesitation.

I would hold her to a standard she can never meet. She would break my heart every time she couldn’t deliver. I would resent her, but I would never tell her.

How could I? I need her to save me, and if I don’t appease her, she will leave.

I’m already losing her – and I haven’t even found her.

She’s an impossible dream but she’s one I cannot shake!

I know I can’t survive without her.

I will spend my life waiting for her to arrive, hoping, searching, praying that someday I will find her. I will try to turn every woman I’m attracted to into her. I will cry tears of anguish, and agony, and self-loathing, and loneliness, and deep, deep sorrow. I will sabotage every area of my life.

I will lose every friendship.

I will sacrifice my happiness.

I will destroy my mental health.

I will throw away every opportunity for real connection.

I will wound her so deeply I can never be forgiven. She’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself. I will carry the burden of shame and regret everywhere I go.

It will color every decision I ever make.

I will beg for salvation.

It will never come.

She will despise me. I will despise her, but I will never let myself know. I will tell myself that I love her; that I need her; that she makes me complete and she gives my life meaning, and joy.

But I will be so angry with her for all the ways she disappoints me. I won’t know how to tell her I’m angry. I’ll despise myself for thinking she’s a disappointment.

I’ll tell myself if I truly loved her, I’d never get mad.

I won’t understand why we keep fighting. If she truly loved me, she would know I’m not trying to hurt her. I just don’t know any other way.

She would forgive me for everything.

She would know I can’t help myself, and that I’m not responsible for the things my trauma tells me to do.

She would never get upset, no matter how many times I hurt her. She would know that I’m just afraid, and I don’t have any self-control.

She would know how much I love her, and that I can’t survive without her, and she would soften her heart, and give me as many chances as I need to get it right.

But she won’t do any of that.

She’ll never love me.

She’ll never give me what I need.

I’ll never find her.

She’ll never be able to fix me. It’s impossible.

She’ll never be the one.

How can she?

She’s not real.

She doesn’t exist.