One of the more personal things I'll ever post on here. If you're interested in an emotionally-charged rant that I have no other way of venting, jump the break.
I fuck relationships up.
From my very first relationship, I've let things get good then started sabotaging the whole process. Trivial lies to undermine trust, cutting remarks, and eventually upending the whole ordeal in immature and rage-inducing fashion.
Only very recently did I start to ask why. After ruining a 2-year run with a wonderful lady, I started to look inside and seek answers for why I have been doing this since I started dating.
Turns out I needed to look no further than my own "original" back door. Growing up, I never had a healthy model of a romantic relationship. My parents always were fighting. My earliest memories are of my parents fighting. They were always abusive to each other, and from time to time, it turned physical. I won't go into it too deep, mostly because I don't want to relive it any more than I already do, but it took me a long time to realize this wasn't the norm.
Somewhere around 4th grade I was outside, chatting with my best friend at the time, while my folks were inside having a screaming match. After a long pause, he told me he didn't want to come over anymore. I asked why, and he told me he didn't like the fighting.
It was like a whole new idea was slammed into my brain. I asked him if this was something his parents ever did, and he told me no.
I don't remember much about the conversation after that, but I remember how I felt:
Angry. I didn't understand what I had did wrong to have these cards dealt to me. I hated that this was my life, and I resented everyone who had it better than I did.
And later, there was a shift, and I started resenting my parents for choosing this life for me. I hated them for staying together under the guise that it was "for the kids," when the reality is that so much damage was done to my sister and I that I am really only scratching the surface NOW, and unearthing new and unpleasant memories.
Moving home has brought this all back. It's the same stupid fucking fights over petty shit. The same rage outbursts, the same bogus and unfair expectations of one another. The only change is that I am no longer dragged into it. I can now just close my door, turn my headphones up, and stay me.
Somewhere along the line, I have developed a way to keep that hate out of my heart. And I think that is a major turning point. I am starting to make my own way. I am starting to act on what I have always believed: I can have the life I want, rather than the life that was shown to me.
And that's a good fucking start.