I'm a "runner."
Nope, not a physical runner.
Not a 'carpet runner' on the floor.
I'm a feeling-runner.
When I touch the flame and it burns, I run.
This is nothing I'm truly proud of. It's a deeply instilled fight or flight response.
When I was a young wife and mother & things didn't work, I ran. Neither he or I was mature enough to make any adult type decisions on marriage/motherhood. I couldn't see any light @ the end of the tunnel. So I ran. Three thousand miles & aside from the living proof of my son, I acted like it never happened.
Recently, when a male friend whom I shared serious closeness/intimacy with chose 'not me', I ran. Not far, though, because he lives all of 5 mins. from my home. But chances are slim that we run into each other, so I unfriended him on social media as well. It was too painful for me to see pictures of him with his "Queen." And I'm pretending it was all nothing.
A couple years back; same thing. Different man, same flight response. No social media interaction, rarely run into each other in this small town, even though my heart drips with heartache for what could have been. And I'm pretending it was all nothing.
What causes this fear of intimacy? Until I can approach the subject without feeling like it's life or death, I'll never know.
Pictures by: me (shot thru a chain-linked fence because the asses @ the fair wanted $8 just for parking and I wasn't feeling it.... ✊)