How can I f*** this up?

I have a daily reading habit, though admittedly these last few weeks I've been a bit out of my routine and the end of this week/beginning of next week will be toxic to any sort of routine.

That said, today I was reading in this book I have of thoughts for the day and one line in it struck me.

"The act of withholding any aspect of yourself is fatal to a co-committed relationship."

My initial reaction was, "Oh, maybe that's been the problem?"

I think we all come with a boat load of baggage. The longer we've been around, the more baggage we have. I believe how good we are at being able to share that baggage and recognize when it's influencing us plays a big role in being able to successfully relate to others.

But I do realize, there are parts of myself that I find weak and unappealing and so I try to suppress those parts of myself (which of course means I withhold them as well) and I wonder how much of an influence that has had on my relationships.

I feel like a paradox often.

While I know I am submissive, I am so terrified of allowing myself to be reliant on anyone else - for anything - because of baggage...that I fight the dynamic and look for reasons to justify my sabotaging behaviors.

There is a memory that sticks out in my mind of when I was very young, it's one of my earliest memories...I was probably 4. I was with my mother and her car broke down. It was freezing, bitter cold out and we started walking in the direction of a house and my hands were experiencing that painful, stinging sensation you get when you're exposed to the elements, which I don't believe I'd ever been exposed to before and I had no gloves but she did.

I don't know as I specifically asked for her gloves or was just whining about how cold my hands were but I remember her being irate at me and saying something that equated to - why should I suffer so you don't have to.

When I look at my determined, unyielding need to be self-sufficient, I can trace it all the way back to that moment. It was the first time I realized I was on my own and had to take care of myself. I had to be prepared just in case. (It wasn't just that one moment, believe me, she gave me a lot of material to draw from!)

I look at all the losses that came after and the reinforcing events that made that a fact and a truth and I toss aside the contrary evidence that some people are good and reliable and caring and genuine.

Those good people terrify me and I tend to push them away, question their motives, look for signs of inconsistency, and test their fortitude.

I don't trust easily. Some would say I fight it with every fiber of my being, despite wanting it desperately. My fear runs very, very deep.

How is it that you don't run from that? What do you know that I don't, that no one else has figured out, that makes this a surmountable challenge to you?

I can't tell you how badly I wish not to fuck this up and how much I worry that I will. To the point of trying to convince myself to not even bother.

But I know that is just the fear talking.

I can almost sense a glimmer of what it would feel like to not be controlled by that fear but by my faith in you.