I always think it’s weird when I’m in the E.R. and I hear nurses and doctors doing assessments and the patients respond with no medical history.

I’m sorry what? No medical history? Nothing? No medications? Yet for millions and millions of people, this is the truth.  I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even know what my list of ailments is.  I recently moved to a new city and while I haven’t gotten a new PCP yet nor have I had to visit the E.R., I dread having to go over the dreaded medical history.

I know the big ones.  Hemiplegic migraines, dysautonomia, EDS, CCTGA… but then what else do I add?  Should I talk about my balance disorder? What about the IIH?  Kidney stones? Colon polyp?  Fibromyalgia?  Oh gosh, what else is there… I know my medications.  That’s what’s important I guess.

I’ve also been doing this thing lately.  I think it’s called dating.  It’s hard.  I don’t like it.  I meet a lot of guys, they are fun, but in one way or another they fall short… some shorter than others. And there are guys who are great on paper, willing to whisk me away to the Himalayas and marry me and give me a family… guys who love me and think I’m perfect.  Guys who have impeccable resumes and are brilliant and kind and good cooks and wear awesome Batman shoes that they give me.  Guys like that don’t come around all the time.  But it’s not there.  The spark or whatever.  Chemistry? I’m not sure… but it’s definitely not there.  And I feel bad, because I know he is looking to settle down and get married, and that’s not something I think I can do with him.  I enjoy spending time with him and I hope that perhaps my little flame will grow stronger, but right now, it’s just not there for me.  It fucking sucks because he’s perfect.  C’mon Cait, get your head in the game…

Then there are fuck boys.  Boys that you would never go for but they satisfy certain carnal needs… and oh boy do they.  But then you realize they are nothing but grown manchildren who eat ramen and drink Mountain Dew and have the emotional range of a teaspoon.

I could go on and on about all of the types of guys there are in the dating world. I’m sort of in that in-between stage where I really just need to get laid and I want to settle down and start a family.  Ideally, I would find someone who could satisfy both needs, but so far that hasn’t happened. (Also guys like to talk a big game and most of them can’t deliver).

The good part of all of this is that for the last two months, I’ve done nothing but work on myself.  Every week I go to therapy and I work through my shit and I find out more and more about myself.  Finally I’m processing all of my trauma and becoming the person I’ve always had the potential to be.  It’s been rough but so important.

One of the things I’ve discovered is how incredibly much denial I was in during my last relationship.  He took pieces of me, over and over, tiny pieces.  I cut them off and threw them away so that I would fit in his box.  I wanted to fit in his box because he loved me and accepted me, and I had never had that before. I wanted to be the girl he wanted to marry, I wanted to be his ideal partner.  And I really wasn’t.  I was someone that I don’t even know or recognize.  I destroyed myself for him, for his family.  I tried to be what he wanted and I broke myself in the process, and the worst part is that I didn’t even see it. I thought I was so incredibly happy, that I had found my forever.  Had that been my forever, it would have slowly crushed the life out of me.  Yeah I was happy with him, but what a fucking joke his family was.  He cried about everything, I couldn’t get mad.  P.S. I lived in my room for two years because his best friend and brother were such assholes that I didn’t feel safe or welcome in my own home.  I didn’t get a vote when they asked if his brother could move in.  Never mind me, he never took my side.  He wouldn’t punch someone if they punched me.  I can’t even believe that.  It’s a question I ask all of my dates now.  You better fucking throw down for me and fight for me if someone fucks with me.  No more girlie men.

He was great in certain ways.  He loved me and accepted me, which I had never had.  He told me I am beautiful every single day and now I’m probably one of the only girls without severe body image issues, especially considering how heavy I am.  He loved me, and I loved him.  He was sweet and kind and thoughtful.  But he was complacent and he made me complacent.  My life was nothing but sitting in a bedroom waiting for him to come home, and that’s no life at all.  Plus he said brutal things to me other the years about not being “the one” and marriage and him not missing me and his best friend thinking he could do better.

Now that I’m up here, I’m finding guys that compliment my intelligence instead of my beauty.  I’m finding that people think I’m funny and personable, that they want to get to know me.  I find people think I’m someone they would like to be friends with and hang out with.  I find people who make me feel better about me.  They are challenging my whole perception of who I am. All of these things that I’ve thought about myself my whole life are being challenged her.  People’s reactions to me here are so different.  But you know what?  I love it.

I’m happier than I’ve ever been.  I’m the best me that I’ve ever been.  I’m working as a writer and getting back to my therapist hours.  I’m driven.  I’m broke AF but that’s changing.  I’m making friends and meeting new people and getting out of the house. For the first time in my life, it’s just me and I’m loving it.  I can finally breathe and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

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