Since the beginning of time, I think I’ve wanted attention. In whatever shape or size, see me, love me, notice me.

And since the beginning of time, from the people I wanted it the most, I didn’t get it.

At least, not the kind that meant anything.

I think I just wanted the kind of attention that showed I was loved without … not necessarily condition, because I don’t think any human being can do that. I think it’s more just … because.

Not the kind of attention you get when you don’t get the stove perfectly clean, or your nearly-straight A’s include one B.

I think I started finding my personal value and worth was in what I could do. Achieve. Bring to the table.

Obviously if I couldn’t jump high enough or shout loud enough, the attention wasn’t forthcoming. Which, of course, was all my fault.

(I wish Doug could see this. He’d be happy to see that Thursday wasn’t entirely wasted.)

Strange, isn’t it, that I am attracted to men who act the same way as all the other important people in my life?

And my own personal reactions to them echo what I’ve known and done all my life?

Take, for example, any of the men who had an impact on my life. Really, they all pretty much mirror each other. Guys who are charismatic, hurting, willing to be vulnerable (to a point). Men who ooze character and integrity on first meeting.

Men whose mothers, sadly, have made their lives miserable. Whose fathers didn’t love them (or were just nonexistent).

Men who, at one point in their adult lives, have hated women.

Scarred, bruised, hurting types. Artistic types. Soulful types.

Enter the naive one. Yes, thirty and naive is a hard thing to comprehend. But each time, I’m like a lamb to the slaughter.

Where do I come from? My personal baggage includes a constant, consuming need for attention - to be loved by people so obviously unable to love me.

This cycle is fucking neverending.

I think, as I always have all my life, that if I give them enough love, they will wake up one day and realize that I’m what’s always been missing from their lives. Like I wish would have happened with all the other people who meant so much to me.

Um, okay, no.

What happens is, they are so absorbed in their own pain and problems that they just don’t love me in return. One or two of them thought they did, but woke up one morning with the opposite reaction. I’m what they didn’t want in their lives.

Yet my battered, beat down heart is still shrieking for attention.

Hence, my “sick cycle carousel.”

“If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine

If it had a home, would it be my eyes?

Would you believe me if I said I am tired of this?

Well here we go now, one more time

I tried to climb your steps

I tried to chase you down

I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground

I tried to earn my way

I tried to change this mind

You better believe that I have tried to beat this

So where will this end?

It goes on and on

Over and over and over again

Keep spinning around

I know that it won’t stop till I step down from this for good

I never thought I’d end up here

Never thought I’d be standing where I am

I guess I kind of thought that it would be easier than this

I guess I was wrong

Now, one more time

‘Cause I tried to climb your steps

I tried to chase you down

I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground

I tried to earn my way

I tried to change this mind

You better believe that I have tried to beat this

So where will this end?

It goes on and on

Over and over and over again

Keep spinning around

I know that it won’t stop till I step down from this…

Sick cycle carousel

This is a sick cycle carousel

Sick cycle carousel

This is a sick cycle carousel…”

Had dinner tonight at my new elder’s house. It was the closest to love I’ve felt in a long time. I was starving for it, thirsty to the depths of my soul. I didn’t want to leave.

White flag in hand,

michelle