I thought I was needy!

Attachment anxiety. I first heard the term when my Psych suggested a few weeks back, that I have it. Here I was thinking it was just me being needy. So I go into relationships, and expect the person to fulfil whatever needs I think I have to make me feel whole and like I am wanted. When they fail, which they always do, because let's be fair, how do you fill a enormous empty hole, I just give up and run in the other direction looking for the one to fill the hole. Like millions of others out there, I didn't get affection or attention or love as a child. Well not the positive kind anyway. My first and most possibly only memories of my dad are being in some kind of trouble. The time I took a packet of pistachios from the corner store and underpaid the guy at the age of 4. The time some creeper lured me and my friend into the laundry room and we managed to get away. The time, or hundreds of times I was in some kind of trouble at school. The time I jumped out my bedroom window to escape the perceived oppression, or got caught at a dance with a boy instead of studying, or the time my dad found out I was dating the local bad boy, who was a small time weed dealer. Each time resulted in a belting. I never heard anything positive from either parent. No encouraging words, or compliments, or anything they were proud of. So yeh my Psych said that caused my adult issues. I rebelled growing up, as I became very immune to the beltings and thought what is another belting. When I realised I would never be good enough, and felt my dad hated me for even being alive, I rebelled. It was too tiring to try and please him. And now, lucky me, has attachment anxiety, which has either pushed me to enter abusive relationships, or relationships with guys that need help or need to be loved until they are good, or me putting too much pressure on the guy. Funny thing is though, no matter how much pressure I put, they never leave me. I always leave them because they can't fill the big black hole inside. My parents though were or are not bad people. They provided us more than what they were provided with and to them that was them doing their best. We went to the best schools, had the best foods, clothing, shelter, anything money could buy. They worked hard to make sure we never lacked anything. They were inherently good people, but me being so sensitive, would have lived on a park bench to hear the words I love you, or you matter, or you are good enough, or you are worthy of being loved. I would have given up everything I was given for that. I have an amazing Psych, and I feel very bad for her because I know she has a mammoth task of unpacking my stuff, and trying to help me remember coping mechanisms until I can believe I am worthy again. The hope is there and it's real, but the little girl inside of me, that's so bruised and battered, thinks it's all just a waste of time. Because hey, at my age why does it even matter right? And what right do I have to moan about how tough life has been, when in reality I have made it tough for myself. I had everything handed to me on a silver platter. Just didn't have the love!!