Why I Failed in Love

I have failed in love since I started dating in 8th grade. From one relationship to another, they seemed to get worse and worse, and I had absolutely no idea why. I remember asking myself, "Why is this happening to me?" "Is it me?" "What have I done to deserve this?" The answer to these questions was so simple, yet I couldn't see it. Yes, it was me. It was the way I presented myself and my actions that led me through many bumpy roads. But I didn't deserve it. And, after some much needed single time and self-reflection, I found that there was a legitimate reason that I was choosing the people and the path's that I was choosing.

There was one major thing that stood out to me most.

Childhood Trauma

From an early age, I was exposed to many different forms of abuse. We will not go into too much detail here. My father was an alcoholic and a drug-addict and spent most of his time with me locked in his room. I remember being 7–8 years old, making my own meals, cleaning up after myself, and entertaining myself all day. And, at the end of the day, I put myself to bed. My mother did the best she could to fill the gaps and overcompensate, but it wasn't the same when my father was physically in my life.

When I was 11 years old, he told me that he didn't want me to come back anymore and I was "all used up." He called me at school, which was devastating.

After this, I changed for the worse. I was drinking, smoking, and playing practical pranks around the neighborhood. I was your regular hoodlum.

Steady Spiral

As a teenager, it seemed that I was getting worse. I had discovered pills by this point and was dating some pretty mean guys. Nothing but empty promises and rude comments, but still. I would jump from one guy to the next so I didn't feel abandoned. I was terrified of being left alone with my thoughts, or getting too close to someone and letting them see who I really was under this aggressive wall I put up.

As I got older, the men got worse. It started with DH boys, onto the manipulators, on to the mental and emotional abusers, ending in physical abuse. I never saw the pattern, but there was. I saw a little more of my father each time I moved on. And I desperately wanted to fix it.

After being abused all through my 18th year of life, I thought I found heaven. I had just moved out of my ex's house (he had thrown me repeatedly into walls, choked me against the door, and laid a mattress on top of me and laid on the mattress trying to suffocate me) and back into my parent's. I kept saying, "I'm going to stay single for a while. I'm done!" But, I wasn't done.

Into Motherhood with a Narcissist and a Drug-addict

When I was 19, I met my son's father. I thought he was perfect. He seemed smart, liked to party, and we had fun together. As a bonus, I could pretty much do anything I wanted (meaning my pill-popping and excessive drinking didn't just NOT bother him, it turned him on!). Little did I know that, in three short months, I would overdose in front of him twice and pass out in my front yard where he would almost run me over in a rage.

As time went on, I quit the drugs and things seemed to get better. Until I got pregnant. I started to see a whole other side of him. He was distant and wanted all my attention, never wanted to talk about the baby, didn't want to feel him move. Nothing. That was when I realized he was a grade-A narcissist and had manipulated every situation to go his way, without me ever seeing a damn thing! For two years!

Our son was born and things didn't last long. And, lo and behold, that panic and trauma of abandonment not only came back, but was 10x's worse. Now, not only was I being abandoned, but our son was as well. I had to move on and find someone who would love him so he would never feel that way. And, I'm not going to lie, I needed someone to love me just as much.

This is when I met my ex-husband. He seemed great, easy to look at, and was nice to my son. It took about two weeks before we made it official and I left my narcissistic ex-boyfriend behind and attempted to start a new life with this man.

Five months after becoming "official," I got pregnant with our daughter. We moved in afterward and I found out he was on drugs. SURPRISE! He told me time and time again that he'd quit and time-and-time again I'd catch him in the act or be picking him up and driving him home.

So, why did I marry him? Well, in short, things went well for a whole two weeks and I thought maybe this is real and he proposed and I said yes. When I started to have doubts and asked him to wait a few months for his sobriety to be more stable, he said he'd never marry me and would leave me with both the kids and look what he did for me. What an ungrateful POS I was. So, I married him. Not one of my proudest moments.

We didn't even last six months before his drug-use caused us to separate. Now, neither of these men see their children. That is their fault. But the choices that led to these two unfit men being their fathers, that is my fault.

How I Changed My Life

I had finally had it. I was at my breaking point. Here I am; two kids, no job, divorced, alone. For the first few months, I could do nothing but cry, stare blankly at the TV, Get the necessary things done for my kids, and cry some more.

But, after about four months, it hit me. I asked myself, "What did I do wrong?" The answer? Everything. I had this subconscious idea in my head that, if I could just find one man who had one flaw, any flaw, that my dad had and I could fix it, I could move on. It became an obsession. It became a part of my everyday life. It became so much a part of me, and I made it seem so normal, that numerous counselor's never even thought of it! But there it was, right in front of me.

I couldn't understand why my father didn't love me, so I looked for people that reminded me of him so that I could feel loved by him in some way. Maybe I could fix the part in them that doesn't love me, or understand why and work to make myself better.

My self-esteem was literally non-existent. So, after making this realization, I made a change. I got my ass in gear. I went and got my haircut, I dyed it to match my new personality, and I enrolled in college and started working at home part-time. I was happy with myself, even felt proud, but I still didn't feel fulfilled.

Why? Because you can't just change the outer aspects, you have to change the inside too. And here's how. Tell yourself you're beautiful every day. Tell yourself it isn't your fault that, whoever hurt you, is the way they are. Remind yourself that you can't change people and the way they view the world. Tell yourself one thing that makes you beautiful, one accomplishment that you're proud of, and one thing that you are grateful for every day when you wake up or every night before bed. Force yourself to look yourself in the mirror and sincerely smile at yourself (don't leave until you do), write yourself love/encouragement notes and stick them around your house.

Do things for you! Because if there is one thing that I've realized, it's that the phrase "You can't love somebody until you love yourself" is possibly the truest phrase ever made.