Doors of Perception

I have not a clue on what to write. Nothing really is in my mind. Well, that’s a lie, but nothing huge that I feel the necessity to write. Broken. Dumb. Two words cross my mind. I know I am neither, but I feel that way for sure. I am confused. Granted I was called broken by a guy who I broke his heart, so I guess I shouldn’t take it to heart too much. But still words can hurt. I keep thinking, what is so up with me that I am picking men in my life that are total scum bags? What could I have done differently to remove the shades that have been blocking my vision? The last guy said he was Christian, smart, but yet tore me down when he was hurt, cussed me out, called me a whore of a you know what. Cheaters, beaters, you name it. What could I have done differently to see this coming?

Granted I am not the smoothest chocolate in the box. I am like the sour patch kids. Sour where it punches, then sweet and delicious. But I know I am no total bitch. I have things that make men go WOW, and not just in that way. I must be shopping down the wrong isle. And trust me I understand youre not supposed to go looking. I think even when youre not looking youre still browsing, scanning.

The fist love, is supposed to be special. The always have your heart, always be your first love. What if you know him now, and he seems like a total sex-addict, jerk that only texts you for that one reason? That’s all the conversation has been about. What are you doing? I am totally in the zone, wanna help out? That wasn’t the guy I knew back when everything was new, and love was fresh. I want to remember him as that, and even now even the small talk, I try to see past the ridiculousness. I keep stubbing my toe into the door, yet don’t think about closing it.

I have all these open doors. I haven’t closed any. And I am being completely open and vulnerable right now. I haven’t been able to let it go, say goodbye. It stems from my father, and birth father. The two men that I needed to help give me a steady foundation on guys I need to look for. Keep hoping that they’ll change into the guys I think they should. Tell me they love me, want to have a daughter-dad relationship. Wont happen. My dad will always love my sister who is the star-kiddo, and my birth father still hasn’t wanted to know me, after 23 years. But I have hope. This hope that keeps getting crushed. Keeping the doors open for men that will never walk through when I need them.

So how do I close these doors? Keep them from ramming in my toes; leaving me crying when I knew it was going to happen all along. Therapy, self-help classes, and even blogging, has yet to help me. I am not holding out for the guy that will miraculously change everything and help me close the doors. I want to do it myself. I want to slam every door shut, not look back. I want to throw the keys away, and know that I may be broken, I may have the dumb moments, but I wont fail and I will get up. Even if I run into another dumb door that stubs my toe. I will know how closing the pervious doors felt. And I will close it again. And move on.