Holding Myself Back

I did something I don't normally do in a relationship.  I talked about something that was on my mind.  It didn't turn out the way I believed, at the time, that it would.  To be honest, I don't know how I could possibly think it would turn out differently.  My ability with denial and my penchant for self-deception must be extraordinary. 
I thought it would be a good idea to ask the woman I was seeing what we were, in her eyes.  I asked her what she thought we would become.  The conversation began to take a rather painful turn that left me crying in her car, swimming in a sea of extremely confusing emotions, and her attempting to comfort me before I got out of the car to possibly never see her again.  I don't know that I believed for a second that that would be how the day would turn out.  The thing that is really getting to me is that the reason I was left in that state is because I have this belief that I will not be getting married again and that I don't want children.  I believe this to my core. 

Or I did.

I called my mom that night.  In talking to her I felt, for the first time in a quite a while, the hole that seems to sit right at heart level.  It is the physical manifestation of some serious emotional shit.  I am empty, on some level, and I believe it is this emptiness that has me thinking that marriage and kids are not for me.  For some time now, I have been pigheadedly (I know, surprising) thinking that I knew what I would want for the rest of my life.  Now, thanks to this woman and my mother, I am taking another look at myself. 
What is kind of interesting to me is that on the very day where I declared my independence from the institution of marriage to a woman who is very into the idea, we had been talking about how I don't know shit.  How can I possibly know what I will want?  At the same time I ask that, I remember what I think about marriage.  Which then leads me to wonder if the reason I am second guessing myself is because not being able to see her is really painful.  I don't know what I wanted to come from talking about this stuff with her, but I know now that I definitely did not want to be where I am right now.  And of course I begin to analyze and over analyze this pain in my chest that was left when she pulled out of my drive way because of something I said. 
There is a part of me that wants to call her right now and talk it out and be happy.  Then there is the part of me that knows me well enough to keep me from doing that while in the state of mind I am in.
I have been looking at our relationship and examining all of the things I didn't do that I could have done to perhaps change my way of thinking.  If I had opened up a bit more to her and let her in a bit more.  If I had just held her hand and let myself enjoy that very simple act.  If I had allowed myself to feel something with her, then it would all be just fine.  The "what ifs" are waltzing through my brain.
But that's the thing.  I didn't do those things.  The thought of opening myself up is so riddled with anxiety that I wonder how I will ever be able to do it again.  My last attempt, as misguided as it may have been, with love has left me so gun shy that I refuse to answer the door if I even think that it is knocking.  I am the quivering dog under the bed, pissing myself because I am so scared of the storm that I won't face it.  Once again, fear is in control. 

I am in the way of myself.

I used to think I was fearless in love.  Not true.  I am so wrapped up in my defenses that I was always protected.  Now I have wrapped myself even tighter.  I am actually concerned that I won't ever get out. 
I am a child in a man's body.  Fear is my Bogey man, hiding in the closet where I keep my love.

So, now I begin to question myself again.  What do I want?  I mean really want, not what do I want so that I am protected and safe.  What do I want?