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.

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.

The Minister

This is not a story about god or religion.

I want to write about my old boss, a beautiful human being and my first ever mentor.

This man is a Minister. His church and his congregation saved my life.

I’ll never forget the first day I met him, the day of my job interview. Tragically, my interview was on the day after my aunties funeral.

(She took her own life)

I was in pieces that day and by some miracle I got the job. I was relieved because I was so broke and needed to find a part time job to fit around university.

I was desperate to make enough money and save up for a deposit so I can move out of my grandmothers house.

The mad house, as I used to call it.

Little did I know at the time – just how much of a blessing this was. A few months into the job I was suddenly made homeless because I was being threatened with violence.

A couple of my cousins were after my blood.

It all started one night at my cousins house. She got deliriously drunk and tried to strangle her 8 year old son. I was stone cold sober and was able to stop her.

We managed to escape from the back door of her house. My cousin then called the police and told them I had abducted her child.

The police found us standing in the street. It was pissing it down and we were in our bare feet waiting for a taxi.

They picked us up for questioning and her son disclosed that his mother tried to strangle him, and I confirmed his story.

As a result of this incident, my cousin and her sister decided I was in the wrong and told my grandmother they were going to kill me.

It wasn’t safe for me to stay with my grandmother anymore.

I reached out to the Minister and he arranged for one of the congregation members to give me a place to stay – and I am eternally grateful for that.

I am seriously convinced that if I hadn’t got that job and I hadn’t worked for the Minister I would be dead or in jail right now.

I’m serious.

At one point I ended up in A&E nearly dead, in need of an emergency operation and blood transfusion.

On top of all this, I was such a lost soul at the time, so young and absolutely clueless.

This was pre-ADHD diagnosis so I was broke, unstable, un-medicated, historically unable to hold down a job and just barely keeping my head above water.

My minister was more than just a boss – he was my first mentor and at the time, the only person in my entire life who saw my potential and invested in me.

He inspired me and taught me what I needed to know about life and my own abilities so I could dig myself out of rock-bottom.

He had “unconditional positive regard” for me and everyone he met.

Such a legend.

He emailed me today and asked me where I was on “my journey”. I responded straight away, but I reframed the dark stuff. I disclosed all the recent traumatic events with a positive spin.

I wasn’t as honest and raw as I am here on this blog. It didn’t feel necessary.

I thought about posting a redacted version of my response but I decided against it in the end.

The second date sucked

The last time I posted about dating, I was excited and optimistic about having met someone new.

We waited a month to have our second date because he was overseas on holiday but we were texting a lot and I can sincerely say that we had an amazing connection.

However, to put it bluntly, the second date was a total fucking disaster.

Idecided very early on in the second date that I didn’t fancy him anymore…but I ignored my feelings and tried to make it work.

He wasn’t very talkative, quite shy so I worked quite hard to avoid it being awkward.

I got drunk and tried to have a nice time. the rest of the night is a blur. Of the bits I can remember, I would rather forget,

To say that the overall experience disappointing would be the kindest thing I could say.

I woke up in my bed, with him lying next to me. I had a stinking hangover and felt totally repulsed.

I dragged myself out of bed and had a shower. Whilst in the shower I continued to ignore my feelings and convinced myself that I could turn it around.

I convinced myself that it would be a good idea to continue the date. So I drove us to this cute place in town for a “romantic” breakfast.

It really wasn’t.

Much like last night, he wasn’t talkative and I tried my best to fill the silence with nice things like admiring the decor but eventually I gave up on it.

My next move was to get him back to his car which was parked at my house so we could say our goodbyes – but he didn’t leave – he followed me into my house.

I didn’t know what to do.

I made us a cup of tea and I told him that at some point I will need to get going because I had lots of errands and things to do.

He said “okay”, then took his shoes off and made himself very comfortable on my couch.

We watched a couple of episodes of The Spy on Netflix – which I thought will bore the fuck out of him (political dramas are not his bag) but he persevered.

Finally I plucked up the courage, got up from the couch and said, “okay that’s it now – I have stuff to do so I’m going to load my car with stuff for the recycling station”.

I took the loads to my car and then with my keys in my hand I said to him, “right I have to go now” and he said “okay, do you need any help?” and I told him that I’m meeting a friend who is helping me.

“Okay” he said. He turned and continued watching the TV.

I started trembling and I abruptly told him “you need to leave now!”.

He was apologetic and left the house with me, we hugged, he got in his car and instead of driving off, he just sat there.

Wtf?

So, I’m still trembling at this point as I back my car out of the drive – I could see him in his car just staring at me as I drive off.

He made me feel so anxious and uncomfortable but I can’t be angry at him because I don’t think it’s his fault.

It’s my own fault. I should be angry at myself for ignoring my feelings.

I should be angry that I didn’t kick him out sooner. I was the one who let the date continue to the point where I felt trapped and anxious about telling him to leave.

You could say that I led him on but it’s more complicated than that.

I honestly thought I liked him – but none of it was true…it was all in my head.

The truth is, I totally deluded myself.

I made myself believe that I liked him and that I fancied him. When it wasn’t going well I tried to force the situation and it didn’t end well.

I think I did this because I was so lonely, because I desperately want a boyfriend.

The second date was a complete shit show and I only have myself to blame.

I’m feel so ashamed and disgusted with myself.

I’m such a fucking mess.

Sleep walking to addiction

Over the last few weeks I have spent most evenings under the influence of alcohol. I haven’t been able to sleep without it.

It all started when I got some news about changes at work, which was isn’t the end of the world but destabilising – so I started using alcohol as a coping mechanism

I hate myself for it.

I am a social drinker and alcohol was never a coping mechanism for me in the past.

I come from a family of alcoholics on my mums side, so my relationship with alcohol is messed up. I actually hate it and I hate myself for needing it to cope right now.

Part of the distress I am going through is feeling that I’m not in control and at the same time my brain trying to rationalise WHY I have I started using it now.

I normally drink craft beer or pale ale and now I’m on the Gin & Tonic of all things. I don’t even really like Gin but this fancy flavoured stuff is so damn strong at 40% alc.vol – it gets me where I need to be in a *very* short space of time.

I’m trying to justify it to myself – like, I am struggling to sleep and alcohol makes me sleepy quite quickly, and I feel a million times better if I’ve had a proper nights sleep.

How the fuck has piece of news like this sent me spiralling again?

It’s because I’m still very fragile.

I mean, I know that a big change at work is destabilising for anyone – and of course something like this will cause me a bit of an autistic meltdown.

Is my fragility (PTSD) an explanation for taking alcohol as a coping mechanism?

I’m thinking back to my relationship with my abuser and how his drug and alcohol addiction affected me.

He would drink every night and I ended up drinking with him. I was only having a couple of beers but I was drinking just because he was. I was able to nip it in the bud.

But I’m also remembering the drug addiction part. Like, how he would torment me and then administer Xanax to calm me down. Xanax isn’t prescribed in the UK and he bought them illegally from the dark web.

Needless to say, I was dependent on his supply and this was one of the ways he had control over me.

The physical withdrawals coming off the Xanax were insane. The only thing that got me through it was knowing that for as long as I was dependent on the Xanax then I wouldn’t be able to leave him.

Anyways, back to now…I was doing so well but I’m back in that place struggling to sleep without alcohol or drugs.

I wanted a break off the booze so the last couple of nights I drugged myself to sleep with a cocktail of diazepam, phenegram and propranolol.

Believe it or not, the drug cocktail has made the whites of my eyes really white, which is amazing.

I feel so rested but I need to keep the drugs for emergencies.

I have half a bottle of fancy Gin (43%) in the fridge.

I know I’m sleep walking to addiction if I keep going like this but I don’t know how to break out of it.