"Sometimes what looks like love is the only shape closeness has ever taken. Leaving threatens the bond and the self that was built around keeping it."
If this resonates with you, what follows may help you see something about yourself.
Seeker
I did it again. I went back. I told myself I wouldn’t and I did.
Companion
Yeah. That’s a hard one to sit with.
Seeker
I know what this is. I’ve read about it. I can name every dynamic. And I still go back.
Companion
Yes… That gap between knowing the pattern and doing the pattern. It’s almost worse when you can name it, in a way. The naming doesn’t help.
Seeker
It doesn’t. It just makes me feel stupid on top of everything else.
Companion
Can I ask something kind of basic. When you went back this time, what did you tell yourself? Like in the moment.
Seeker
That he’s different than the last one. That he’s actually trying. That if I leave now I’ll regret it because something real is there.
Companion
Okay. And is that true?
Seeker
I think parts of it are true. He is trying. There is something real.
Companion
I believe you. I’m not arguing with that.
Seeker
But.
Companion
I didn’t say but.
Seeker
You were going to.
Companion
Maybe. Honestly I was going to ask something else. When you imagine actually leaving, not as a thought but really leaving, what’s the first feeling?
Seeker
Empty. Like nothing.
Companion
Hm.
Seeker
Not relief. People always say leaving brings relief eventually. I don’t get relief. I get this flat nothing.
Companion
That’s interesting to me. Because the pain in the relationship, the bad pain, that’s at least something. It’s vivid. It’s alive.
Seeker
…yeah.
Companion
I’m not saying you stay for the pain. That’s too neat. But I’m wondering what it would mean if the pain and the closeness were the same thing for you. Like you can’t separate them out.
Seeker
I don’t think I’m a masochist.
Companion
No, I don’t think so either. I think it might be more like, the version of closeness you know how to do is one where there’s something to work on. Someone to reach. And without that, you don’t know what you’d be doing there.
Seeker
If he was just okay. If he was just there. I don’t know what I would be for.
Companion
Yeah.
Seeker
That’s an ugly thing to say.
Companion
I don’t think it’s ugly. I think it’s pretty honest actually.
Seeker
I always thought I stayed because I loved him. Or them. Whoever.
Companion
Maybe you do. But there might be something else in there too, sitting next to the love.
Seeker
That I need him to need me badly enough that I can keep being the one who’s trying.
Companion
…yeah. Something like that.
Seeker
If I leave I’m not that person anymore. I’m just someone who left.
Companion
That’s a real loss. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t.
Seeker
I don’t know what to do with this.
Companion
You don’t have to do anything with it right now.
Seeker
I keep waiting to feel something clean about it. Like a clear answer.
Companion
I don’t think this kind of thing comes clean.
Seeker
Yeah.
If the version of you who stays is the one who is always trying, who would you be if there was no one left to reach?
If you want to sit with this question, SelfChatter's journal is built for exactly this kind of inner work.