I can be best described in this poem:

It's been a year now
Since you came into my life,
Held me close,
And then moved on.

"Press your luck", you said.
I did,
And I never regretted a bit of it.

While joined with you
I could be myself.
I kept no secrets from you.
You saw my explosive joy,
And my deep and subtle depression.

While joined with you
I could look at myself
And begin to get over
My secret fears
And mountains of self-doubt.

It's been a year now.
And I still think about you
All the time.

I'm probably obsessed.

But bit by bit.
I remember the helping hand
You gave me.
Gradually I am learning
How to steady myself without it.

You gave me support
Of a kind
That nobody else,
Not even I,
Ever had.

Without your helping hand
I am often blindsided
By habits of self-doubt.

So I'm using my obsession
And my idealized sense of you
In the service of building
Some long lost self-esteem.

Helping hand...

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