How To Understand It's Your Relationship That's Unhealthy, Not You

Every time I got hurt in a relationship, I blamed myself.

I see so many other women make this mistake, too. They wonder what's wrong with them, what they did wrong or why they aren't good enough.

Along with your heartbreak, you suffer a huge blow to your confidence and sense of self worth. Getting hurt isn’t your fault; sometimes he’s just an assh*le.

When I was in college, I partied pretty frequently. I’d go home with guys because I felt like it and because they were hot.

I didn’t think too much about the decisions, and I was excited to be free of high-school-style judgment. People weren’t calling me a slut; they were doing the same thing.

Sometimes I let my emotions get in the way. I felt like I was fulfilling the stereotype of the overly-attached female. I decided to engage in casual physical relationships so I needed to treat them as such: casual.

But sometimes, I’d end up really liking the guy I met, and I’d want to see him again. I’d text him every so often and try to meet up, and to no avail.

They’d either ignore me or they’d only reach out to me when they were drunk and looking for an easy hookup. I was quick to ignore the obvious motive and assume they were still interested.

I tried so hard to get these guys to like me. I didn’t act like myself, and I molded myself into what I thought they wanted me to be. I tried to play aloof, but really, I was desperate for their approval.

They all lost interest. Once the chase was over, their desire to be with me waned. They were into the physical stuff, but anything further than that was off the table. They didn’t want anything serious, but I was beginning to crave something more.

I assumed something was wrong with me, and that I wasn’t the type of girl who guys wanted to date. I thought I was too fat, too tall, too awkward, too forward, too loud and too easy.

I beat myself up every time one of these guys stopped talking to me. I took it personally and I took it hard. I wanted to be desirable to the men I was attracted to, and I wanted to be with someone for more than just a few nights.

I didn’t realize that I was going after the wrong guys. I was going after the guys who lurked around at parties searching for someone to take home.

These were the guys who were looking to hit it and quit it and brag to their buddies about it the next day. I was attracted to the type of guys who reinforced the way I felt about myself.

It wasn’t healthy, and it was destroying me. By continually seeking out guys who make you feel like an afterthought, you will forget how to be yourself. You doubt everything about who you are, and you feel unimportant and alone.

It isn’t your fault that these guys aren’t interested. It isn’t your fault that they’re only looking for something physical. It isn’t your fault that you feel an emotional connection and they call you “crazy” for it.

You’re not crazy, you’re human. Getting intimate with someone can produce confusing feelings, some of them that are hard to ignore.

You may be in this situation right now. You’re with someone you know you shouldn’t be with. You’ll answer his texts no matter what time of the day it is, even though he sparingly answer yours.

You know in your heart that you deserve better, but you’re afraid there isn’t someone better out there. You’re afraid that if you end things with this guy, no other guys will want you and you’ll be alone forever.

Well, you’re wrong. You will find someone better because you deserve someone better. You deserve to feel loved and for someone to treat you with respect.

You can’t blame yourself for the shortcomings in your relationship. A relationship requires two people with mutual respect, and if you aren’t getting that, it’s time to say goodbye.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t let myself take every rejection so personally. I wouldn’t waste so much energy trying to understand men who were simple.

I wouldn’t hide who I was in hopes that they might like a different version of me. I wouldn’t have wasted my time on so many assh*les.