I watched my own habits die and it's painful

Tuesday was my cousin Amelia's birthday, also known as, the night Matt came to meet my family. Which is crazy right? Because we've totally only been in a relationship for five weeks and that basically started immediately on meeting each other which means I brought somebody that I've known for barely over a month to meet my family. Which means I totally fucking freaked out before hand because I'm me, and I freak out and over analyze things which, you know, is good for blogging and all but not necessarily great for life in general. It's not like my family is a bunch of scary intimidating people who look for flaws in the significant others that people bring into the bunch or like I thought Matt was going to comb his hair with a fork or something, but just a general fear the my family might not like Matt or Matt might not like my family. Maybe to some people either of those things wouldn't really matter but while I was thinking about the whole meeting the family thing I realized that dating somebody that wasn't willing to come keep me sane at family events (and my family has a pretty good sized number of family events) wasn't really something I was interested in doing so it would really suck if things went poorly and I would freak out some more.

But probably more importantly, I think I was mostly freaking out about the amount of significance people place on being at the point in a relationship where you meet somebody's family and what it meant that Matt wanted to meet my family and what it means that I was willing to have him do so and that's the point when I sank into myself and realized I was truly terrified.

It's been a long time since I've done all this stuff. Part of me just wants to throw my hands up in the air and just yell that I don't know how to do this. There are lots of things I can do that other people seem to find impressive. I can spend long periods of time in foreign countries with minimal contact with my family. I can instantly decide to completely change my life and actually do it. I can write every insecurity and fear I have and share it with the whole internet. I can easily jump into dating only one person because I know that's what I want but I reach a point where I'm not sure I want to go any further, where I have to consciously resist the urge to draw back into myself. I'm not good at letting other people take care of me and I'm not good at trusting people but when I do those things I do them with complete abandon, to the point where it can be detrimental, to the point where I let people hurt me when I should know better. So I tend to keep myself a little guarded, or more than a little, almost all of the time. It's not so much a fear of loss or of being hurt, though there's obviously that, but a fear of how I change, how I act. The ways in which I can become completely codependent, the way I can lose myself so far into somebody else that in the end I always resent it, resent them. I feel like if I can just keep myself in check maybe this time I won't break a nice guy's heart. Because that's what I tend to do to the boys that are actually my type. Then I date crazy motherfuckers (trust me, I've got at least one ex that makes Che seem like the most even keeled person you've ever heard of) and then I go back to nice nerdy guys and then I lose myself and then I hate it. I know that I can't actually have a serious relationship with somebody without letting my guard down,  without letting myself lose control and I know that Matt is not the same person as guys I've dated in the past and I'm not the same person I was in past relationships. I know I want to relax and lose myself in love and have somebody to support and get support from all while staying true to myself and I know with whom I want to do all those things because so far everything is easy and wonderful and everything I want it to be.

Sometimes I just think too much of me is damaged goods and in the end I'll always get in the way of my own contentment.

But that's just being stupid.

P.S. Family time went fine. I think.

P.P.S. We'll get back to the back story soon. And by soon, I mean, whenever I successfully convince Matt he wants to write about how my mother convinced him to go on a date with me. (Assuming he doesn't read this post and then decide I am crazy)