My Name Is Michelle And I Have Relationship PTSD

It’s true. I’m fucked up. We’re all fucked up. And if you’re like me, this fucked-up-ness comes out, little by little, with each person you attempt to date.

I will be the first to admit that the traumatic relationships I have been through have changed me: always for the better in the end (thankfully), but not without raking me over the hot, fiery coals in the process. Like everyone else, my experiences are not unique: I have endured infidelity, distrust and emotional abuse. I have felt less-than, unappreciated and lost in someone else. I have sacrificed, tried and failed. And along the way, with each failed relationship and shattered piece of my heart, I have amassed a gigantic pile of baggage that surrounds me in the form of the Great Wall of Deflection. It’s a nice protective barrier between my fragile ego and the world outside of me. And quite frankly, I fancy it…at least for now.

You see, this Great Wall of Deflection is what keeps me safe. It protects what’s left of my heart that I have available to give. It does a great job at deflecting those that can’t (or don’t want to) deal with it. And let me tell you something: that wall is one picky bitch. She never lets anyone in. She is strong and determined and knows what she wants. And if you don’t seem right, she’s gonna tell you to take a hike.

A side story: I recently met someone through a work transaction that I had a good, friendly connection with. We had a lot in common, mainly the love of dance, and had a great time being way too old shaking it in the clubs together. He started to develop feels, and my feels stayed in the friend zone. Needless to say, it all culminated in a semi-awkward conversation where he accused me of having a gigantic wall built up around me that prevented me from liking him. But the truth is it wasn’t my wall: it was him. I wasn’t interested in HIM. And therefore, the wall was staying up.

It was a new revelation for me: in that moment of him expressing his feelings about me and me blurting out something to the effect of, “I don’t want to lower my wall for you,” that I realized I have control over my baggage and bruises. And the fact that I live a guarded life is ok, for now. It’s ok until I find the person I’m willing to take the risk for.

How do I know when I’ll be ready to lower my walls? I’ll feel it. Because that’s what I do: I feel things. But what will you do? How will you know?

I challenge you to think about your baggage. Bring it to the surface of your consciousness and become friends with it. Understand it. And if it tells you you’re not ready, trust it. If it tells you to keep those walls strong and high, do it. You’ll know when it’s right.

I envy those who can love easy. I used to be that way but I’m all used up…tapped out. Now it’s time for me to be selective; to only give to those who deserve it and can pay it back in the ways that I need. And I know this now because I’ve done a shit-ton of work on myself learning about what makes me tick. I encourage you to do the same. Get really clear on what you want your life to look like and who you want in it. Then use your emotional baggage as a protector of your heart, not a hindrance to relationships.

So go ahead, love and accept your baggage. It has made you who you are today. Learn to work with it and allow it to shape your expectations for yourself. Have faith that the right person will come along who a) has an equal amount of similar baggage or b) is willing to be patient enough to help you sort through yours. Self-reflection is fun, isn’t it? Stay woke, friends.