Blech. Why Did I Do That?

I keep doing this thing with men: they hurt me and I go back to them. The broken record of my heart says, "why, why, why?" I don't want to let go; I'm tired of starting over. I'm thinking of the line in the Pretenders song: "We fall but we keep getting up, over and over and over".

I know what my therapist would say:  that I keep seeking out love that is familiar to me - hot, then cold, (like my mother), but I think at least I'm ready to stop learning with the same person more than once.

Tonight I was thinking about a man and a woman I became friends with in my 20's, when I was a waitress. They'd sit in my section, drink wine all evening, and when I was done, I would join them. So they indulged me when I talked about the loss of my first love. It was a deep cut; He'd gone again, and I gushed. "WHERE IS HE??" The woman replied, "There is no 'he' there." I was so confused about his disappearance and re-appearance in my life. When I was with him I felt love, gained faith in my instincts, and flew. But he could only take me so far - he was wrong for me, and when I believed he was the source of my love, he'd let me down and leave. This was the gift and lesson of the relationship - it had only been meant to bring me to the source of my love - myself. But I wouldn't accept it. I wanted it so desperately to be HIM. Alone, I'd struggle to grow strong, then he would turn up again, and I couldn't resist him, or the hope that I was wrong. But I wasn't, and the cycle would repeat. Over and over.

I remember, too, that the man, an old Scottish minister, told me to take heart: "Your true love will always surprise you."

I think I understand the gift of the latest relationship: it was to help me develop my creativity. I am alone again, there is no "he", and I am not surprised.