the Wall
The struggle is within, and I see that now, more than ever.
The war is against myself, not her defense mechanisms.
When I feel weak, I tend to recess within myself, hoping she will step across the chasm and pull me back. That's what I want her to do, and she knows that, but she has sustained too much damage in her past to be able to. My silence makes her step back, to shield herself, to protect her heart, to make sure what [he] put her through never happens again. And while I know this is dramatically different than what she suffered in the past, she can't always see it. Defense mechanisms are not, after all, rational.
I know she's right when she says that I am exhausting. I exhaust myself sometimes. I realize that I expect too much from her.
Unfortunately, no matter how much clarity I have in my thinking right now, it will do me no good when the thoughts come again. When the crippling insecurities take advantage of my mind's weak defenses and lay siege to my emotions, I will fall, again. I will believe I am losing her. I will be convinced she is looking for ways out. Then the silence will strangle out my words, and the darkness will enshroud my mind, and I will find myself once again on the outside of her wall.
And I will blame her, just as I always blame her, and the vicious cycle will once again repeat.
Sometimes, I wish she could just take me into her embrace, whisper in my ear that she loves me, and pull me back from the ledge. That is all it would take to save me.
But she is just as helpless on the inside of that wall as I am on the outside. I am not the only one the wall incapacitates.
She did not choose to build her wall, it was a subconscious creation that she needed when [he] was trampling her heart and betraying her soul over and over and over and over. She might not have survived [him] if not for that wall. The very defense mechanism that separates us during these moments of failure also separated her from [him] and...for that....I am eternally grateful for all it did to keep her safe and alive, for me.
I just wish ... she could see ... that she doesn't need it, now.
She could dismantle the wall, stone by stone, and let me in, and I would never hurt her heart. I could protect her better than any wall ever could. If only I could make her see that.
The war is against myself, not her defense mechanisms.
When I feel weak, I tend to recess within myself, hoping she will step across the chasm and pull me back. That's what I want her to do, and she knows that, but she has sustained too much damage in her past to be able to. My silence makes her step back, to shield herself, to protect her heart, to make sure what [he] put her through never happens again. And while I know this is dramatically different than what she suffered in the past, she can't always see it. Defense mechanisms are not, after all, rational.
I know she's right when she says that I am exhausting. I exhaust myself sometimes. I realize that I expect too much from her.
Unfortunately, no matter how much clarity I have in my thinking right now, it will do me no good when the thoughts come again. When the crippling insecurities take advantage of my mind's weak defenses and lay siege to my emotions, I will fall, again. I will believe I am losing her. I will be convinced she is looking for ways out. Then the silence will strangle out my words, and the darkness will enshroud my mind, and I will find myself once again on the outside of her wall.
And I will blame her, just as I always blame her, and the vicious cycle will once again repeat.
Sometimes, I wish she could just take me into her embrace, whisper in my ear that she loves me, and pull me back from the ledge. That is all it would take to save me.
But she is just as helpless on the inside of that wall as I am on the outside. I am not the only one the wall incapacitates.
She did not choose to build her wall, it was a subconscious creation that she needed when [he] was trampling her heart and betraying her soul over and over and over and over. She might not have survived [him] if not for that wall. The very defense mechanism that separates us during these moments of failure also separated her from [him] and...for that....I am eternally grateful for all it did to keep her safe and alive, for me.
I just wish ... she could see ... that she doesn't need it, now.
She could dismantle the wall, stone by stone, and let me in, and I would never hurt her heart. I could protect her better than any wall ever could. If only I could make her see that.