Compersional envy
Sep. 29th, 2021 09:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cybermuleOne of my best mates is absolutely soppily besotted. I am really happy for her - she deserves this. Heck - everyone deserves someone to be besotted with them. But I am also a little sad. Envious maybe, slightly? It's highlighted how cheated I felt by my previous relationship.
Just to be clear, I know I am loved. And I know the difference between the heady whirlwindy in-love stuff and the valuable mature sort of love that I have there.
But when you date an addict they're never going to be smitten with you - they already have a much more important lover stealing their attention. When I started dating my ex, they were in love with booze. I think they were probably in love with a whole bunch of other women too, if I'm realistic. I was low down a list of women ranked according to their perceived physical status. It was always clear that booze was the primary relationship, but I became increasingly aware that I just happened to be where the buck had stopped.
Unpleasant. And apparently untrue and dreadfully unfair for me to voice, but in one of our last few conversations the ex said that they had stuck with it mostly because they didn't want to be on their own.
Some ownership of that would have been nice. But then, I don't know why I stuck with it. Probably because I could see they were frightened. Because I'm a mug? Because I think if I try harder, people will treat me better.
When you date an addict, you are always going to have to make yourself smaller to fit around their primary relationship. They don't really listen to you, and if they do it doesn't really stick. I became exasperated and exhausted over and over in the relationship, walked away, and then was persuaded to try again. I persuaded myself, I guess. Permanently throwing good money after bad because I wanted it to work, I didn't want to abandon them. And, brutally, I didn't want them to die.
And this settling and making myself small is a familiar pattern from my childhood. Some people trigger it, some people don't - I'm working on how to tell the difference. I think there has definitely been growth for me in non monogamy, but about a year ago I did have the lightbulb moment of realising that it also allowed myself to make myself small. The poly market is saturated with people in hierarchical primary relationships where it is very easy for someone like me to just erase herself and her needs. And before I know it, I've just nearly drowned in the absence of self and have to kick hard to get away.
Because people who let their needs seep out over everyone else tend to be quite good at pushing that agenda. They see other people as a medication for their own discomfort. And this is just continued addiction really - the pushing away of anything vaguely uncomfortable using someone else's emotional labour. They're generally the people with whom you can never just have a comfortable silence.
Some people I hang around with now are good at holding space for me to talk, to think, to let my needs float up to the surface. The lightbulb moment could have been a turning point for that old relationship, but ended up being drowned out with the ex's immediate worries and unresolved relationship issues. And I made my own aha moment small for that. Now I resolve to pull it out from everyone else's emotional shadow and make myself bigger again.
Just to be clear, I know I am loved. And I know the difference between the heady whirlwindy in-love stuff and the valuable mature sort of love that I have there.
But when you date an addict they're never going to be smitten with you - they already have a much more important lover stealing their attention. When I started dating my ex, they were in love with booze. I think they were probably in love with a whole bunch of other women too, if I'm realistic. I was low down a list of women ranked according to their perceived physical status. It was always clear that booze was the primary relationship, but I became increasingly aware that I just happened to be where the buck had stopped.
Unpleasant. And apparently untrue and dreadfully unfair for me to voice, but in one of our last few conversations the ex said that they had stuck with it mostly because they didn't want to be on their own.
Some ownership of that would have been nice. But then, I don't know why I stuck with it. Probably because I could see they were frightened. Because I'm a mug? Because I think if I try harder, people will treat me better.
When you date an addict, you are always going to have to make yourself smaller to fit around their primary relationship. They don't really listen to you, and if they do it doesn't really stick. I became exasperated and exhausted over and over in the relationship, walked away, and then was persuaded to try again. I persuaded myself, I guess. Permanently throwing good money after bad because I wanted it to work, I didn't want to abandon them. And, brutally, I didn't want them to die.
And this settling and making myself small is a familiar pattern from my childhood. Some people trigger it, some people don't - I'm working on how to tell the difference. I think there has definitely been growth for me in non monogamy, but about a year ago I did have the lightbulb moment of realising that it also allowed myself to make myself small. The poly market is saturated with people in hierarchical primary relationships where it is very easy for someone like me to just erase herself and her needs. And before I know it, I've just nearly drowned in the absence of self and have to kick hard to get away.
Because people who let their needs seep out over everyone else tend to be quite good at pushing that agenda. They see other people as a medication for their own discomfort. And this is just continued addiction really - the pushing away of anything vaguely uncomfortable using someone else's emotional labour. They're generally the people with whom you can never just have a comfortable silence.
Some people I hang around with now are good at holding space for me to talk, to think, to let my needs float up to the surface. The lightbulb moment could have been a turning point for that old relationship, but ended up being drowned out with the ex's immediate worries and unresolved relationship issues. And I made my own aha moment small for that. Now I resolve to pull it out from everyone else's emotional shadow and make myself bigger again.
