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  • Writer's pictureRobin WillowMoon

Details in the Fabric

Updated: Feb 25, 2019

Today I fell off the wagon again. I reached out to the ex to get a fix. It was painful, awkward, and in the end left my emotions in a very sad place. As I knuckled down to get through the busy day at work, I let my feelings just bake until I got in the car to drive home. Then it came to me, the over timer went off, and my popovers popped.

What was making me really sad and teary eyed, was that the feeling I had been experiencing all afternoon reminded me of the feeling I had back in high school, the feeling I had as a child, the feeling I had after my two other failed marriages, the feeling I had after numerous dates after the failed marriages. What was the feeling that was coming back to me as if I had just woken up from a 58 year coma…..It was this… one ever picked me, let me clarify, no man ever picked me. This feeling of never being good enough to be picked was born the same day I was delivered into my mother’s cruel hands.

In high school I was one of those invisible people. I wasn’t asked to go to the prom, wasn’t asked to go on a date, not once; and in the end none of my husband’s picked me.

Let me explain. Husband number one, was in love with someone else, so settled for me. Why I thought this was OK, shows the mental damage of not loving yourself causes. Husband number two developed a drinking problem, and in the end when I said sober up or I will leave, he chose to keep drinking. In my eyes he picked alcohol over me. I understand now how addiction works, but my broken “no one picks me button” got pushed when the marriage ended. My third husband picked the state of Florida over me. He was hell bent on living there, and since I had cut off the supply train, he moved out and in with his first love Florida and replaced me 6 weeks after with his prehistoric 71 year old lady roommate.

I am not writing this tonight for you to feel bad for me, or to pity me. What I am saying is that until the rejection I felt over the phone today, I hadn’t woven all the pieces together; I hadn’t seen the details in the fabric. The lack of self love that was instilled in me from birth left me with the belief that I was/am unlovable. With that wound written on my heart and on the invisible sign I wear, I let the world know not to pick me, because I am unlovable. There is something wrong with me.

So what do I do now? I will continue on my path of self discovery towards achieving loving myself first, so that should I ever get back out in the dating market, my sign will say, “I’m a treasure to behold, pick me!”

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