Susan Senator

Every so often, I let a new person into my life. I don’t do this easily, because I don’t trust easily. I know the reasons for this, and I’ll sum them up by saying that certain inconsistencies in my childhood left their mark, and so trust comes hard.

But I have had this same experience more than once by now, where I am pursued by someone interested in being my friend, and I am not sure of them for some reason. Maybe I’m wrapped up in a project, or simply content with the friends I already have. But these pursuers persist, and I slowly give myself over to their friendship. And then something shifts, and I realize that this new friendship is important to me. I realize that I liked being pursued. As soon as I have this realization, I begin to get anxious about holding onto the relationship. I start noticing it. I start noticing the dynamic of who-is-calling-whom; who-initiates-what. I think this is known as an “anxious attachment,” and it is a very tough dysfunctional behavior to break. I remember way back when I was 10, and I had my first intense friendship, with someone named Cynthia. I remember when she told me I was her “best friend.” This thrilled me so much that I felt almost addicted to it. I asked her frequently if I were still her best friend. This was my first conscious anxious attachment. Eventually (eight years later) she dumped me.

I feel it happening now sometimes with someone who pursued me and made me feel like I was the finest person on earth. I was uncertain about it. At last I opened my heart, and shortly after, the anxious attachment began sinking its black teeth into the friendship. This person often withdraws. My evil insecurity poisons it. So that’s what I’m dealing with now. A feeling of wondering if I’m a chump for trusting, and the burning shame of feeling not appreciated for being who I am. I probably see these things coming and so I resist these intense new friends, but they get under my skin, especially if they are Tauruses.

I sometimes wonder if my anxious wiring is related to Nat’s being autistic. I feel that they are related; we are both on SSRIs, and we both obsess about things. I wonder if he is free from this sort of pain, because his relationships with people are so much more basic. Although maybe they feel very, very complicated to him.

I guess we all have our own private hells to navigate.