Getting serious on September 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I’m 25 and when I was 9 I was molested for over a year by my babysitter. Obviously this was a pretty traumatic experience. But since my family doesn’t seem to like dealing with any sort of unpleasantness, it was never talked about within my family and I have never gone through any therapy.

Fast forward to the present: I’m a fairly well-adjusted kickass kind of chick who feels fairly normal compared to some of her emotionally unstable friends. There is one problem though; I can’t seem to date anyone for longer than two weeks. Most of the time the guys are losers who can’t commit and so they ditch me pretty quickly. Also up until recently I wasn’t sure I wanted to date anyone seriously.

Well, now I want to and it feels like I can’t.

So here’s the big question: Can someone who’s suffered a trauma that shattered her confidence in herself and others when she was a child ever have a healthy relationship? I don’t really feel like I need therapy cause I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me emotionally. But I’ve been dating for 7 years and have never had a long term, committed relationship.

If you have an opinion, please share it.

–Jeze

BG’s opinion after the jump!

If I may: advice columns, when they’re good, they’re GOOD. And by “good,” I mean not just good, wise, compassionate advice. I mean a good read, even for folks who are not struggling with the same issues as “Lovelorn” or “Confused.” Because at their best — best-written, that is — they are lovely and literate portraits of true, raw suffering and hope: a real-life micro-epistolary novel, a poetic precursor, even, to the talk and reality show. Some, over time, have been necessarily brief (so to speak), but now, thanks to Internet real-estate, they can flow into beautiful long-form, complete with backstory and metaphor and soaring free verse. I say “they,” but in fact, there are but few that fly as high as I describe. All of which is to say: Read Dear Sugar. Maybe start with this one, if it’s cool for you to cry at work. And then the rest. This, ladies and gentlemen, is advice; this, my peeps, is art. Read, weep, leap, cheer.

You’re welcome.