Dear Soulmate

Are you out there somewhere? Is there such a thing as a soul mate?

It’s comforting to believe that’s there is such a thing. I’d rather believe he is still out there somewhere but we haven’t found each other yet.

I don’t fancy many people on this planet.

Sometimes I think I’m a little bit Asexual but not completely.

I say “a little” Asexual because I do experience desire. It’s rare but when I do experience it fully, I’m 100% sure that I like them.

Then I will fall for them, hard and fast. That’s when I’m passionate and intense in a relationship.

Its feels so out of reach at the moment and I crave it so much.

This stuff is very confusing to me and I find myself analysing about it this stuff about it a lot.

I think I need the intensity because otherwise I’m mostly numb inside.

I read this back and it feels like a drunk post or something, but I haven’t touched a drink in over a week.

Today I downloaded Tinder again and had a look at my old profile. It was so mundane and factual.

I deleted the description and instead I tried to write something raw and meaningful:

“Song lyrics matter.

Not the colour of your skin.

Religion is a waste of time.

Party politics are a distraction.

Looking for a connection, something real.

I want to be vulnerable with you.

I want you to want me.

We are all insecure humans trying to survive.

Let’s lose ourselves.

It’s love or death.”

Guys on Tinder will probably read it and think I’m fucking insane. I’m at a stage in my life now where I’m starting to care less.

I’m still in pain. I’m still lonely.

But the good news is, I’m feeling stronger and starting to believe like I deserve to be loved and cared for.

I’m still sad but I’m starting to believe in myself again.

Scrambled Eggs

This was my attempt at making scrambled eggs tonight. I managed to burn the eggs, the rubber spatula and the pan.

I have ADHD so I’m not a stranger to burning food but this time was so epic!

Don’t know why my attention span is so bad because I’m sure I took my meds this morning.

Or did I?

Like, work was okay I had meetings all day. Didn’t struggle to get my words out during discussions. Well, maybe I was a bit slow.

I was tired though and I’m still recovering from a shitty cold.

Anyways, got home from work, realised that I’m far too tired to cook a proper meal so decided it was safer to make eggs because it’s quick and easy.

Not so safe after all.

I got as far as beating the eggs, pouring the eggs in the pan but less than a minute later I wandered off to do some laundry. (WTF?)

I remember folding some towels and bedsheets when I smelled the burning – but I just ignored it.

Brain didn’t register. Clearly not giving a fuck about the burning plastic smell.

I carried on pottering around the house until my tummy rumbled because actually, I’m fucking starving.

Oh yeah, I forgot to eat lunch today. Saying that, I had half a bag of Cheetos (100g) at work – so that’s kind of like lunch.

I digress. I decided to make some couscous because it’s quick and easy. So I wandered back to the kitchen and realised what I’ve done.

How the hell I forgot that I was already cooking food is beyond me.

Maybe I did forget to take my meds?

I’m still hungry.

Times like this I wish I had a reset button.

Pain of Rejection

I did a shameful thing at my brothers birthday party last night. I drunkenly broke down crying in the middle of the night club.

Yep, I’m THAT girl.

I broke down for a very simple reason and that’s because I felt rejected by someone.

The background to this is my brother has been trying to get me to date one of his closest friends. For months now he’s been telling me that I should ask him out but I’ve refused to do it.

Not because I don’t like him.

My reason (justification) for not asking him out is, if he was interested then he would ask me out on a date, right?

My brother is saying this guy is too shy to ask me out so it’s on me to make the first move.

What no one seems to understand is how much of an insecure fucking wreck I am.

Even the thought of asking someone out makes me want to vomit. The thought of them potentially saying no is enough to destroy me.

I know my brother is trying to help me but I don’t think he realises just how fragile I am. Or maybe he does which is why he wants me to be with his friend, who he says would NEVER ever hurt me.

Since the breakup from my abusive ex, my brother has been very protective over me and is determined to make sure that I’m never in a situation like that ever again.

He and his wife were the ones who – quite literally – picked up the pieces and help me rebuild my life.

Anyways, back to last night…

His friend was at the party, we were sat at a table discussing how old we are. His friend says he is a year older than me. I pointed out that always assumed he was younger, like a similar age to my brother.

When my brother heard this he started ranting at me, saying I should ask him out etc – it got a bit heated (we were all very drunk).

Anyways, I thought fine I’ll say something so I asked him if he knew my brother wanted us to be together and he was said yes.

I then, awkwardly, asked him, “so, uh…what do you think about this?”

The whole time we hadn’t made eye contact, so his eyes were to the ground and he said, “I don’t know…”

To me that was a very strong “no!” which tore me up.

I texted my brother and said, “he’s not interested, see I told you! Now leave me alone. I’m quite sad now actually, thanks!”

I left the group sitting at the table. I went to the bar, bought a strong overpriced cocktail, downed it and mixed in with the crowd in the middle of dance floor.

Tears started rolling down my face so I stayed buried in the crowds so no one could see me like like this.

I was worried about my eye liner running and causing embarrassment to my brother in front of his friends so I tried to pull myself together.

I was calming down when I felt a hand reach round my waist and there he was.

He asked me if I wanted another drink.

I said yes.

He kissed me.

I was stunned.

The rest of the night is a blur. Nights out with my brothers friends are always so much fun.

At one point I remember agreeing to go for a date with him in a fortnight.

I should feel excited but I instead I’m feeling like the only reason this happened is because I got upset and ran off.

I feel like the only reason he asked me out is because my brother has talked him into it.

This is all kinds of messed up.

This is going to hurt me. I know it is because I think I really like him.

Fuck.

Insomnia

I’ve mentioned before about how I struggle to sleep without self-medicating, (drugs, alcohol, etc) a direct result of PTSD.

As of February this year I started my recovery journey as a survivor of domestic abuse.

I have an ADHD diagnosis as well as Autism, anxiety (full blown panic attacks).

My childhood and upbringing was toxic, and oppressive to say the least.

With all this said, you can imagine that I am working so hard just to keep my head above water. I’m barely functioning with the cards I was dealt.

So of course, any kind of traumatic event is more than just “destabilising” for me. It doesn’t take much for something to completely derail me.

If I’m constantly anxious then I’m getting increasingly fatigued but with my cortisol levels through the roof, I’m wired as fuck but running on empty.

I want to try and sleep without drugging myself or drinking alcohol but my brain won’t shut up.

Im not getting a good nights sleep, which is affecting my ADHD which means my thoughts are completely disjointed which is causing me to panic even more.

Every night I’m battling the urge to drink or drug myself to sleep.

Some nights I win and some nights I lose.

If I win I will eventually fall asleep and get a few hours in. I feel like shit but I’m one step closer to being less dependent on drink or drugs.

On the nights that I lose I get a solid 8 hour sleep. On one hand I hate myself for being weak but I find that I focus really well at work – which makes me feel calmer…

Until it’s time to go to sleep again and the battle starts all over again.

So last night I won – about 3/4 hours sleep I think – but I must have looked so rough for a colleague to point out to me that I look tired.

Fuck I felt such a pang in my heart when they said that.

Not much else to say on this other than, tonight, I lose.

Botox & Ready Meals

One good thing right now is, work matters have settled down.

But now that I have job security I’ve plummeted back to my everyday anxieties, insecurities and obsessing about all the things I need to change about myself.

I was recently complimented because of how well I “look after myself”.

This was in reaction to how my weekends this month are booked up at various salons for treatments like Botox, Fillers, nail extensions, eyebrow microblading, hair cut and colour, etc.

Was it a complement or a dig? It doesn’t matter because it was triggering all the same.

Triggered because I know myself that what I’m doing and what is driving me right now is really fucking unhealthy.

People see a version of me that has her shit together – and why wouldn’t they I suppose.

I struggle with everyday conversations with people that have no clue what’s really going on with me.

People make small talk and I’m trying to respond appropriately, find the right words, facial expressions and tone of voice to hide the fact that IM FUCKING SCREAMING INSIDE.

Life is easier if I don’t have to engage in small talk. Especially not in work.

I’m sat here at work in the lunch room now.

I’m trying to avoid eye contact with people, hoping they leave me alone so I can finish eating my microwave meal in peace.

Leave me to my thoughts and miseries thank you very much.

Thoughts like, why is my head spinning? Oh yeah, I’m chronically dehydrated and my cortisol levels are through the fucking roof.

Don’t speak to me, don’t ask me questions.

Stop reminding me of the fact that I’m not okay.

Stop making me lie about how I’m focusing on the wrong things and I’m not actually looking after myself.

Stop making me gloss over the fact that what I am doing isn’t self-care, because I’m driven by persistent feelings of shame and self-loathing.

You don’t want to hear me say that I think I’m ugly and I hate what I see in the mirror.

You don’t want me to get dark and morbid about how I want to erase the old me and start again.

What if I told you that I’m getting Botox because I feel empty and worthless?

What if I said actually, I wish I never existed and I’ve found a way to make that happen without taking my own life?

Looking after myself, my arse.