I seem to have this tendency…at some point…in every relationship…of swinging the microscope lens around to the dark side. I fix it on any little hole I find and increase the magnification until I can identify every atom, proton, neutron, negativetron. (Okay fine, I made up that last one.)
But my point is, I get into these terrible grooves of focusing on the negative. Imperceptible negatives. Lacking elements that no one else would notice. Words that don’t get said. Invitations that aren’t extended. Kisses that may not have been doled out.
Once it starts, it’s hard for me to snap out of it. Which is irritating, because I’m usually a very sunny-side person. I have no problem finding the positives in lots of situations. I take on a zen attitude at work, with friends, heck—with life, most of the time.
But when it comes to matters of my heart, caution or fear of getting hurt or innate pessimism kick in and rear their ugly three heads every time. Sometimes writing helps. Sometimes running helps. Sometimes someone will say something to knock me into optimistic reality. But sometimes there’s nothing I can do.
It’s like that insecure sixteen-year-old steals the show and seeks out every possible indicator that she’s not worthy or that he’s not really interested. Instead of seeing all the ways he shows his feelings, I adjust my lens to look at the one time he held back. For ten kisses, I notice one missing. I weigh my adoration against his every move, checking the scales again and again.
My college boyfriend liked to tell me to relax. That’s like telling someone to stop hiccupping. It’s kind of beyond my control. Or is it? There has to be a way to put negativity back in its place. Make the sun shine a little brighter. Dip my toes back in the bliss and forget the weeds growing between my fingers. If anyone has a map of how to get there, please let me know.