It has been years, decades really, since I've let myself be excited about anything or anyone.
I don't believe that the good things will work out.
Even when all evidence points to the contrary I sit there contrary. Thinking of how it will go wrong, thinking of how I will be disappointed.
Because I suffer under the false impression that if I see the hurt and disappointment coming, if I see the rejection coming then I won't be as hurt.
But I am.
I heard someone say once that the majority of injuries in non-fatal car accidents come because the passengers are bracing for impact. Their feet are pressed against the floorboard or their arms are outstretched towards the dash to keep their faces from hitting the dashboard.
When people fall, off bikes, down stairs, just walking around, they break their arms and wrists because they are bracing for impact.
Sometimes it does save them, but a lot of the time it turns a simple nasty scrape or big bruise into a completely broken and sometimes shattered bone.
I brace myself for impact in relationships.
I hold my arms out, pressing you away. I stomp my feet on the floor hoping it will keep my heart in place so it isn't harmed.
But I'm starting to see that this stretching taunt of myself is only breaking and shattering my bones and harming me more than just a simple bruise.
It's also completely robbing me of the joy that comes with excitement. The bliss of anticipation.
But still I hold back. Constantly vigilant for the disappointment to come, bracing myself for impact and while I may save my heart the brokenness that it costs me is much greater.
I hold on to worry so tight
It's safe in here right next to my heart
Who now shouts at the top of her voice
Let me go, let me out, this is not my choice-Sara Bareilles