Content may be disturbing. Nothing contained in this article is intended to be used as relationship advice and it is not intended to be used to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any personal issues, nor should it be used for therapeutic purposes or as a substitute for a professional's advice.

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(lol. I had to do it. Basically, read at your own risk!)

** Names have been changed.

*** Stories attached.

When I was little, I had some unbelievable crushes on much older men, macho guys, and unavailable guys - that got me to repeat mantras like - I never get the guy I want, I am not good enough, and there’s something wrong with me - all the way up until I turned 29 or so! :) Amazing.

The Patterns of My Heart

My first proper boyfriend was a foreigner, let’s call him Russel, and the relationship was sweet and delicious and so beautifully uncomplicated. I chose him among all the other hunks in the gym I worked at, and I started my quest of being noticed and pursued. It was love at first sight for me.

He was the first guy I introduced to my parents. What I'm grateful for is that he introduced me to some amazing feelings during sex (ok, lovemaking). So at 20 I was like - whoah, there is something to this thing after all! I really enjoyed it with him, and I gained some confidence. Not long and I felt ready to get “more, bigger, better, different” things out there. I left him and I didn't even know the real reason why. Looking back, I suspect we got too close, too intimate and I was afraid to be ”seen”. Him being dumped had nothing to do with whom he was, but with whom I had become. You see, with his consent I started dancing in a nightclub, and somehow I thought I could have it all.

Then came Gilbert (that is a really weird made-up name, but whatever), and that love was more mature. It was rather love at “second sight”. He was a total charmer when we met and I wanted to see more of him, but I didn’t feel crazy about him at all at first. We started a long-distance relationship and in about 6 months I moved in with him. I developed some really strong feelings for him, and we eventually made for quite a solid couple. Upon moving, I insisted on sleeping alone at nights as I was a light sleeper. The first night I cried so much, sleeping in the guest bedroom, and for the first time in my life I wanted my mum next to me to tell me what to do. How to behave in this situation? Playing house? A wifey?

Eventually, things settled. I moved into his bed, and I loved the fact that I was in a very physical and emotionally supportive long-term relationship.

After about a year when things seemed really nice, calm, no drama… I began to crave an adventure. Once again I felt like I needed “more, bigger, better, different”. I entered a state of stress. I missed the freedom dancing once gave me, let alone the independently made cash. So I run away from him into another country and back to work!

His heartbreak was nerve wracking for me too, but I could not hold myself back. I wanted to run and run, be free, have more space, and feel independent. In fact, I was just running away from myself but I got stuck at being a little lost child. Fearful of not having enough, not being enough, and a strange feeling on missing out on something. It was very unsettling, that kind of anxiousness that somewhere some people were having a really great, fun life while I was at home with him, having dinners in, and watching Fraser. I was too young to appreciate that closeness and comfort (Argh, my heart is bleeding. I’d kill for this now!)

What followed was a period of really exciting, yet not very authentic living. I worked in a few different countries. During one year in the USA I had a different “boyfriend” every weekend. Sometimes they circulated, and sometimes it was just the one-off adventure. At some point, I dated three guys at once, playing it really smooth, until one day they decided to leave me all at once. I was down to 0. But not for long.

You may think I was heartless (and a slut). I broke hearts along the way, too, but my heart got played with repeatedly. More often than not I cried when my little affairs finished or when I was madly in love with someone who was also madly in love with someone else. I had a terrible taste for men actually. My then big love had a drug problem, another guy was an alcoholic and sadly, one man was married (and one day remembered so, then didn't call me again).

Regardless, there were times when I felt truly blessed for the privileges of having been born a woman. I had soo much fun.

Thankfully, I had to leave the USA (It was taking me down the road of pretentiousness, superficial relationships, and materialism)

I came back to my roots in the Czech Republic. I reconnected with my parents and started attending Uni (graduated this June 2016)

It wasn’t all peachy. I had always battled tendencies to really, really low moods, self-sabotage, and self-pity which I self-medicated by alcohol, and other things. At the age of 24 I found myself trying anti-depressants (how very American! :)) Now I know it is so off the path to healing to cover up whatever you’re resisting by external things. By 25 I cut down on the meds and felt better, but the depression turned into anxiety and panic attacks - time for new pills!

I managed to get off the pills in a few months time, but I had not healed, so the alcohol stayed. Can you imagine my liver??

I had some dates in the Czech Republic and I think they were all worthy. Some brought me to tears in the end, but they all remind me what a sensitive, beautifully feeling woman I am.

There was no one significant, no real boyfriend to trust to and build something with, just flings and married men.
On the other hand, what did I expect living a double life? The studying hermit most days and a private dancer (more or less) some nights.

Towards the end of 2013, I met a Dutch guy, Michael. He was a world-traveller and I should have known it would be just "fun".
But I got too close, too naive... And I fell hard. I had a little breakdown after he had left Prague and I hadn't heard from him.

He stayed in my system for a couple of months, I guess. He made me think about my life, what I was doing to myself, and how I was REALLY missing out --> No cozying up to anyone in front of the TV, no boyfriend to introduce to my parents, and zero emotional intimacy for the past four years. I had a hard look at myself, my inauthenticity, and all the bullshit I traded real love for. I was not missing Gilbert per se (we still talk actually) but I was missing what we HAD.

I had not changed, and two more solitary years followed.

I thought I was “working on myself’ by reading Louise Hay, meditating and trying to be vegan. But I burned out regardless, and at 26 (and half) I had to take a gap year and travel to Asia. Isn't that what all crazy people do?! :)
And that is where I met…Ok, Paul it is.

I saw the blue eyes and my knees trembled.
We got talking… and the rest is a history.

He was also European, and it somehow happened that upon our arrival back home, we had a go at a long-distance relationship. Germany <—> Czech Republic.
It was… ummm… all very … mean and whirlwind.
I was probably still crazy. Asia helped me heal on a very deep level and my attitude to the past, to my work, and my parents, all that changed, but - the attitude towards myself had not. I was always scolding myself, not giving myself enough credit for my achievements, taking my kindness for weakness, and my beauty for granted. I didn't give much of the real me.

I was still INAUTHENTIC: Not speaking my truth, hiding my light, doing things that I didn't want to do, and in romantic relationships I would still cover up my real feelings. However, I demanded from my partners to tell me and give me everything!
Something must have changed. But not that year (2014) it didn’t.

When Paul decided I was not ready to be the mother of his future kids - back then I did not want any! (Fast forward 2 years, my heart bleeds, I can’t wait to be a mother and I would fight for a family man!) - he broke it off. First, he had actually slept with someone else (one can tell how badly he wanted babies right!?), he told me, I took him back, and then we split up. Up until now I still don’t understand. He is the only guy (I call him half boyfriend) I am not in touch with. He has probably no idea what an impact our short romance had on me.

After our last meeting in Prague he thanked me for my existence, then in one week he announced, via a skypecall, he wanted us to be just friends.

I used to have a feeling I was too much for him. Too wild, too disorderly, and too much into sex without baby-making for this picture-perfect German guy. But I did imagine some future for us when I would finish my degree, and when I would know what to do… perhaps he had seen me through and knew I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself. (So he slept with someone who must had known better)
I drunk for 30 days straight, every single night. So much for my Asian and six months post-Asian detox.
Then one day I woke up and said ENOUGH.

Then came Michael, the Dutch again. A totally different story. Just a one-night story. No illusions. Just a service. Perhaps I'll save the details for some other place...

After the German guy I was alone, and I poured my heart into work for a change. I thought I would be as much authentic as possible - at work. I invented some interesting money-making possibilities for myself, and I began being really comfortable with my own company. I cut down on the drinking and I stopped going out. I remember just two parties in clubs between that boozy month of November 2014 and June 2015. I had lots of fun though and possibly just one hangover.

Then comes the biggest, insane, short-lived love of my life so far.
In June 2015, I land in Australia, I see my future host for the first time and... I am disappointed.
The guy with such a sexy voice looks like that?!
Now, that is really mean of me to introduce Him like that - but, sort of, something like that went through my head. You get the picture how superficial I was.
However, it was love at multiple sights, and love at “first intercourse”. There was something about that boy’s masculinity and the way he treated me that I just couldn’t help but melt right into him. We had sex quite early, within a week of me settling in the guest bedroom next to his.

Little did I know about his tactics for getting every new invited girl into his bed eventually. Well, I wasn’t any different.

Some things that he did made me feel special though (introducing me to his mother) - and that was a dangerous territory. I never felt very special to myself - how could I be to another?

We lived together, did stuff around the farm together, cooked together, and took trips together. We fell in love… I guess… but at the end of August, I had to leave back to Prague for my last year of studies.

Even though we were in touch twice a day (mornings and evenings because of the time difference), and the long-distance seemed to deepen our love and crystalize our feelings and passion for each other, we weren’t exactly honest. Before I left, we hadn't sat down to talk about the way we’d like this to go, we didn’t set any boundaries, we didn’t communicate about what had just happened and if we wished to commit. We were but surprised things turned out the way they turned out. Perhaps he felt the need to tell me that “he would wait for me” just because that's how they say it in the movies. But we lived in a real world. Waiting for four months - like, how exactly?

During the four months, stuff happened. Yet calls and messages continued and we were happily bullshitting each other.

Then came the next meeting in Australia for Christmas. My intuition was at its peak. I knew. I smelled it everywhere.
(see 'Alarm' lyrics by Anne-marie)
I knew he cheated. I admitted to my part (my secret work), but mainly to hurt him and drive him away from me. He didn't let me go.

After a couple of broken glasses and a thrown make-up bag (missing the target and hitting the wall instead), we sort of patched it up.
The emotional intimacy was still good - if not better, sex was great, and I still felt looked after… but something had to change.

Despite the brave face, I was heartbroken, jealous, angry, and I felt put off by him at times. In spite of that, I stayed and I wanted to make things right. (Note: Debriefing of my learned lesson in jealousy is here:
I also began to see my patterns of dysfunctional relationships. Clearly, the fear of intimacy and being “seen” and loved for who I was manifested in attracting a long-distance relationship again. 
Dating emotionally unavailable men, foreigners, tourists or busy people was frustrating, yet safeMy dishonesty was the byproduct of my feeling unworthy of love.

In February, on the day of my departure to get back to the Czech Republic in time for my last semester, I said to him in bed:
Don’t make love to me like if it’s the last time we do it… but we knew, it was the last time we did it.

Back at home, I couldn’t focus on anything and I started failing at school. I told him he wasn’t the guy I wanted and it was best we just let it be.
Silence helped, so within two weeks of finishing my semester (with good grades), I booked my ticket… Horny, and full of some crazy ideas for our reconciliation, I did not even check whether that was what he wanted as well.
I still had to study in silence for my state exams. It paid off and I succeeded. In two weeks I flew out…..

November 10, 2016.
Things have definitely shifted for me. I am no longer living inauthentically, lying to myself or others, and I am not attracted to any low energetic-frequency people or activities. 

I seek someone available. I am willing to strip off my own layers of accumulated hardness and find a comfort in my vulnerability.
I am ready for a big relationship change.

I have been hurt in the past, but I AM ALIVE AND I LOVE.


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