Friday, March 27, 2009


Oh, silly little vulnerable me. I figured it out. Well, I probably already figured it out, but I admitted it to myself today. I know why I’m obsessing about my ex; we shall call him RJ.

“How might I be obsessing?” you ask, considering that I never let on that I even ever thought about him anymore. Well, I do. The truth of the matter is that it’s been forty-three days since we broke up, forty since he moved out. For every single one of those days, first thing I did in the morning was to check and see if I had an email from him, to see if he was on chat, to say hello. Then I immediately checked his Facebook profile. I then proceed to look at my various widgets on iGoogle, one of which is a silly little horoscope thing. I always check both Virgo (me) and Libra (RJ). Then, last but not least, I’d check his Twitter profile. Every single morning, in that order. Repeat order several more times during day.

Sure, part of that’s my mild OCD. My morning ritual is hard to change. But a lot of it was trying hopelessly to still be part of his life. And a good bit of it was trying to find something new to be angry about. The worst motivation was trying to find more evidence that he’s moving on to a life full of laughter and fun while I’m dreading each day, more evidence that life isn’t fair, more evidence that I somehow deserve this.

So, in an attempt to change, I blocked him. I “unfriended” him on Facebook, I stopped following him on Twitter, I blocked him from google chat or gmail. I tried to remove these temptations—places where I could keep following him everyday. I needed to remove these temptations—places that encourage me to keep acting out on all these impulses. Sounds like the right move, right? Well, of course, now I’m pissed because he hasn’t responded to my blocking him in these ways. Can’t he just acknowledge that I’ve cut him out of my life? (He could text after all). Can’t he just validate that I was here, and now I’m gone?

Check out that big word ‘validate’. Yes, that’s what I need. I need some sort of validation—that our relationship meant something to him. That I was important, and that life sucks without me. I just need something—and he’s never going to give it to me. And what I admitted to myself today is that because he’s never going to give it to me, that’s why I want it, need it, so desperately.

Yes, yes. Let’s all nod together and chant: “Just like your father!! Just like your father!!” Oh, and just like my daughter's biological father as well. I’ve been looking for, hoping for, trying to give up on some kind of validation from my father since I was three. I’ve never gotten it. So, I take that to be how a man loves a woman (he never gave any to my Mother either). As soon as a man refuses to validate me (well, more accurately, doesn’t know how), then I’m all his.

VSV: Vulnerably seeking validation. How do I get out?


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About Me

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Columbus, OH
About me? I was born and raised in the South. I still keep a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge, but I no longer believe in god. That’s right—I’m a southern atheist. For brevity’s sake, here are a few things: I’m working on a PhD in Philosophy; I’m a single mother with a beautiful eight-year-old daughter; I can fly an airplane in the clouds; I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder; I’ve been married and divorced to a man who wasn’t my daughter’s father; I have a bunch of debt; I have a lot to say, but no one to listen. Hence, I’m venturing into the world of blogging. Come with me?