Nobody puts baillee in the corner

At work, we have a running bit (for lack of a better word) about biggest fears. I usually say appendicitis, which is absolutely one of my biggest fears, but it’s not the biggest. My biggest fear is people only love the good parts of me, and they can’t handle/don’t want to deal with the bad parts. I am genuinely terrified I am unloveable at my worst. During all the panic attacks. The depression sleep. Occasionally rewatching Glee. All of it. 

I sometimes ponder whether or not people only stick around for the good. I know it’s not true (see all of the support I’ve gotten lately from all of the incredible people in my life), but sometimes, I do get scared the bad parts of me will get in the way of a romantic relationship. I’m scared I’m unloveable because of the days I have to double up on my Prozac or don’t leave the house or finally breakdown (and not just at the ending of My Girl). 

I’m scared all the messy parts of me outweigh the laughing and the kindness and the trivia night knowledge. The idea of me baring every single anxiety-filled part of my soul to someone to have them walk away frightens me. That’s why sometimes I try too hard, and more often than not, why I don’t try at all. 

I’d rather hide my feelings or push people away or just live the bachelor life. When you hide your feelings, you can use self-depreciating humor to help deflect the truth. When you push people away, you’ve hurt them first, so you don’t have to worry about being hurt later. When you live the bachelor life, you don’t have to worry about anything but your spoiled Cairn Terrier getting upset when you move the blanket. It’s all self-preservation. 

Would I love to have someone to come home too? Absolutely. Would I love to have a partner to help me work through this shitstorm we call life? Definitely. Would I love to have another person for me to make forcibly read my blog posts? Yes. I just don’t know if I have the trust in me. 

It’s easy for me to open up in my writing because I’m not showing one person my flaws; I’m showing everyone. Also, it’s one thing to put it into writing, but it’s totally different to see in person. I think someone won’t understand what I mean when I want to be alone, but I want someone there to be alone with me. I can’t comprehend why someone would understand you can’t immediately try to fix my problems when I’m upset because it makes me feel inferior. I’m baffled by the idea of someone willing to stick beside me on the nights I can’t sleep and sketch or watch movies or write all night. 

My greatest fear isn’t of being alone but rather I am the reason I am alone. That  I’m too fucked-up for any partner to unconditionally love. If you ask me, I’d prefer the severe storms or learning to drive any day.