Hey there, Emma B here. Just taking a little time out from Tagged, and this story caught my eye. My biggest fear....
My biggest fear is about love. When I was little my father developed Munchausen-by-proxy, an odd and nasty little syndrome where he systematically poisoned me for five years, craving the attention and power that my being in hospital gave him. I believed he loved me for a long time, even after the diagnosis was made, but it was years later before I understood the diagnosis. And it was then that I questioned his love for me.
My mother must have been complicit, so what does that say about her love for me?
And so I fear. I fear that anyone who loves me has an ulterior motive, and I worry, deeply, that anyone I love will be someone who will hurt me. It makes me hard to be around sometimes; my first boyfriend lasted barely three weeks before I threw him, wet and naked, first out of the shower and then out of the flat. I regretted it later, but I never stopped thinking that he'd been about to hurt me.
My last boyfriend, Joel, split up from me because his mother didn't think I was good enough for him. They're Jewish and I'm not, and that matters to her. I didn't think it mattered to him, but apparently it did. Although now I'm not so sure again; I'm starting to think that our break-up was a whole lot more complex than I got told about.
I have a pet lizard too, and I'm pretty sure that he loves me unconditionally. I can accept love from an animal, but not from a human. My fear debilitates me. My fear drives me on though; I substitute work for love, I substitute activity for love, and I never, ever turn my head and look to see if I got it right. I always keep going forwards, always moving on to the next thing, never giving love space to catch me up.