I hate feeling needy.
It makes me remember The Before Times, and I really hate visiting the past. Every so often, I have to access those memories, those feelings, because I never, ever want to be that person again, in that life. It's important to remember the Icky-Ucky, so I don't repeat bad behaviors or make the same mistakes.
I read a quote recently from Robert Louis Stevenson: Everyone, at some time or another, sits down to a banquet of consequences. As a writer, I cannot look away from what makes me uncomfortable or ashamed. Also, I cannot change the decisions I made. I can only move forward, try every day to be better than I was, and attempt to keep the self-flagellation to a minimum.
It's been long enough, and I'm steady enough, to know I'm not carrying around as much baggage. I hate baggage, too. I've entered a new relationship and I don't find myself creating parameters based on my craptastic marriage. It's not fair to hold anyone else up to the standards (or sub-standards) someone else created--and let's face it, I accepted.
I know my worth now.
Ever since I crawled out of the rubble of my old life and built another one on a much more solid foundation, I've been all, "I am woman, hear me roar." I enjoyed being single. I got to sleep in the middle of the bed. I didn't have to share the remote. Everything was exactly where I left it. I didn't have to debate about what to have for dinner, who's slacking in the chore department, or who left whose socks on the floor. Again.
It's odd to find myself inside a romance. Some days, it's like I'm writing my own life. It's weird. It's awesome. And it's ... scary. Just a little. I'm officially a girlfriend. And my boyfriend is handsome, and honorable, and steady, and brilliant. He is trustworthy. He is forthright. He is kind. He looks at me in that way (you know what I mean, right?), and my heart skips a beat.
We spend the weekends together, and we talk or text or email during the week. Yet, some days, hours and hours would go by, and despite daily evidence he always gets in touch, I started to feel a terrible ache. I didn't recognize what it was. It felt like "needy," which made me feel even more awful. One evening, I was talking to AVB (Awesome Viking Boyfriend), and as I was confessing this feeling, I realized I was admitting to feeling insecure. Well! I didn't really know how he felt, did I? Just because he spent every weekend with me, and contacted me every single day, and did sweet things for me, didn't mean he ... oooooooh.
I'm haunted by the ghosts of old fears. The. Hell. So, I exorcised those wispy bastards, and then ate some Godiva chocolate. What? I told you. I hate feeling needy.