There is the part of me that uses every hurt as an excuse to disengage and make sure that person never has the power to hurt me again vs. the part of me that loves without reason, reservation, or fear. That forgives over and over, even when the other person doesn't ask for it or know it is needed. That doesn't understand the meaning of giving up on someone.
There is the reaction to keep all of my feelings secret because experience has taught me that what I feel doesn't really matter. It doesn't matter if I cry. It doesn't matter if I hurt. It is better to keep it hidden where I can't be ignored because I never spoke up vs. the recent lessons that some people know I'm not okay even when I don't say it. Care enough to dig it out of me. Care enough to listen and try to fix it. Sometimes.
The desire to ask questions so I get the answers I so desperately want vs. the belief that I won't get honest answers anyway. Silence is better than being lied to.
The years-long lesson that I am not more important than any other thing in anyone else's life so I shouldn't expect someone to choose me. I am not good enough. I am not more important than their drug habits. I am not more important than her new boyfriend. I am not more important than whatever is on TV right now. I am not more important than his need for space. It doesn't matter. I don't matter, when I have needs. vs. the recently found belief that I am, in fact, a person worth loving. A person worth choosing over drugs and TV shows and at least important enough to make room for with new boyfriends and needs for space. I am good enough for someone's time and attention and I deserve as much consideration and attention as anyone else.
The fear to trust vs. the desire to love and be loved.
Impatience vs. a desire to have things worth waiting for.
The person I was for years and years vs. this new creature I haven't figured out yet.
My heart hurts.