The boredom and dissatisfaction I’ve been feeling — I’m missing the drama. The “action” of my turbulent past of serial affections and attachment. A Rolodex of relationships. It’s weird, that the trauma of my parents splintered relationship makes me comfortable with chaos..? Why can’t dependability, safety, security be sexy? Doesn’t my heart yearn to just..be home? Where has my passion for *the one* gone? Did I live with parents that taught me to empty my cup when the going got rough? I think I am underestimating the damage of those little childlike hurts inflicted from mama and daddy’s verbal wars. I remember my heart soaring for security — mama and daddy getting back together. I traded those hopes in for what was available, security in the arms of whatever parent I found myself in, eventually just hoping and praying that the other would not come banging down the door. That we could just be happy for a second, even if we weren’t whole anymore. I guess that is not a healthy way to grow up. Switching between households growing up seems normal, innocuous enough, but i didn’t realize I was getting used to instability as a way of life. it doesn’t matter that others “have it worse”, I was still affected and I need to own it.