My past haunts me

Jenn of Princess Prose has been writing a very educational and thought-provoking series on relationships.  Part 4 hit particularly close to home because it involves trust.  Recently I wrote about wondering if I'm good enough, and how trusting myself is a struggle.  I know that a lot of my issues (or a large portion of my issues) could be chalked up to childhood, growing up, what have you; however, there is one piece of the puzzle that overrides everything.

When I was 18, I met a guy named Matt who was younger than I, but his... "extracurricular activities" made him experienced far beyond his years.  He had brilliant blue eyes that flashed devilishly, and a dimple deep enough to fall into when he'd turn his disarming smile your way.  He was trouble, all right.  A whole lot of trouble.

The relationship was bad from the start.  Right from go, we hid it from friends and family because of the age difference (as well, there was no way I could tell my family that I was involved with someone with the "pastimes" he participated in).  He had a violently explosive temper that was quick to ignite; I was never afraid of him, but I was scared by his angry outbursts - I stood frozen in his doorway one night as he raged around his bedroom, yanking the phone out of the wall before chucking it out the window, and ripping the closet door off its hinges before launching it down the hall.  He would be a heaving mass of adrenalin-driven fury one minute, and a sobbing puddle of remorse the next.  I was always uncomfortably on edge around him, never knowing which version of Dr. Jekyll I would be spending time with.

He was my first.  The first guy I was in a relationship with that lasted more than a month and a half.  The first guy I slept with.  The first guy I said "I love you" to.  He fucked me up so badly, some times I'm amazed I'm able to participate in a healthy relationship today.

You see, he had another girlfriend.  That's right: the entire year and a half we were together, he was still seeing (and screwing) his "ex."  At first, he'd play the game where he'd pick a fight with me to give him an excuse to not speak to me for a few days; during this time, he'd go back to her.  I'm not sure if the crawling back routine (which was more a grudging, pissy phone call on his part than a tail-between-the-legs apology) was because he missed me, or if he was just tired of his other plaything.  That went on for quite some time until he either got sloppy or just couldn't be bothered to hide it anymore: I discovered that he was still sleeping with her by spotting the hickies all over his body - I'm sure she was sending me a message, too.  He messed around with a number of other girls during his tenure, as well, all girls who apparently knew he had a girlfriend (whichever one of us was "lucky" enough to bear the title at the time); he wore his philandering like a badge of honour.

Even though I confronted him quite loudly, he laughed in my face, at that point basically opting to have two girlfriends at the same time.  I would threaten to leave him; he would challenge me, telling me to go ahead and try: I'd be back because no one else would want me anyhow.  At 18 years old, I believed that I was worthless, useless, ugly, and unlovable, all at the hand of someone who claimed to love me.  In the meantime, I was competing with a girl who was hell-bent on stealing "my" man (who, in retrospect, obviously considered him HER man).

Self-esteem issues?  Check.  Trust issues?  Check.  Major suspicion, distrust, and fear of any female to show the slightest bit of attention to "my" man?  Check, check, check.

It's been hard for me to trust: myself, my partner, people I don't know well.  In the beginning, it took a conscious effort on my part to trust Chebbar; I don't know that we ever would have gotten to where we are today were it not for his unwavering, amazing patience and understanding.  I still struggle with trusting "new" people, though, particularly those of the female persuasion - the above wasn't the first time (nor, sadly, was it the last) I was burned by the "fairer" sex.  And because in all of my infinite teen-aged wisdom I never thought I'd ever be one of those girls who ended up blinded by a quasi-abusive relationship, I still struggle with trusting myself: are my suspicions correct? should I even be suspicious? am I right to trust him? to trust her? can I even possibly rely on my own instincts and judgement?

I've known all along that my first "real" relationship was a bad one.  Hell, deep down, I knew it was bad while I was in it.  I've stood tall and been proud, asserting that it was a learning experience that allowed me to figure out what I would and wouldn't put up with going forward.  I've fooled myself into thinking that, because it's over and I feel I've moved on, it doesn't affect me anymore.

With some of the events of the last little while, I've realized I couldn't be farther from the truth - that my past does still play a large role in who I am and how I react today.