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Originally Posted by Vermilion Sparrow  Yeah, I'm one of those broken, overly emotional women, but rather than being a wild, free thinker, instead I have an overactive nurture gland, which is why I'm attracted to men who are also broken. My mother and grandmothers were bossy, selfish, manipulative creatures, and my father and the one grandfather I knew were completely unavailable and the primary givers of punishment. My parents still believe I learned how to fake tears at a young age, because once I started crying about something I couldn't stop. I was constantly accused of being manipulative when I was genuinely upset, and even as an adult I still get accused of that, when I let anyone see it. As a small child I was frequently punished for not stopping crying, and this only taught me that I shouldn't let people know I was upset by something.
I also have a tendency to feel closer to people than they feel to me, as a result of my ability to form intense attachments easily. This also makes it difficult to hang onto friends, for various reasons. Either I come on too strong for their liking, or I consciously try not to and they think I'm not interested (I find that everything I do seems to be like a firehose: either full blast or not at all, and I haven't yet found anyone at all who can handle me full blast in large doses). The flipside of this is that I am a terrible judge of whether or not people are interested in me, because normal-person signals come in below my radar. So while I do have confirmation in many cases that there was no attraction from people I was attracted to, it's possible that the only times I notice attraction coming from someone else is when it comes in the firehose manner that I display myself.
But now I'm just rambling.  |
Yeah, I'm kind of like that too. I'm an "all or nothing" kind of person. It's either all there and it's crazy intense whirlwind or I'm just bored. lol
You mentioned the word "broken" though, and I'll comment on that. That's a word that I used to describe myself with (in fact, I compared myself to Humpty Dumpty, shattered and couldn't be put back together again), and then I realized that I wasn't broken, I was just down. Broken, to me, implies a certain impossibility to "fix." It created an endless cycle that always left me down and out.
These days I try to avoid describing myself like that, and just that simple realization has helped me grow quite a bit.