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.

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.

Primed for Abuse

Here’s the thing. I have a bit of a track record for falling in love with abusive men.

I’m vulnerable, sure.

An easy target and “primed for abuse”, as they say.

But why?

What makes me so vulnerable?

I’m pretty fucking sure a messed up upbringing might have something to do with it.

Here goes…

My upbringing was profoundly oppressive – thanks to both parents – and living in the Middle East.

I am the only daughter to an Iranian man and a Scottish woman.

My father is the typical “Middle Eastern Father” stereotype, moody, unable to show affection, over protective, controlling and impossible to please.

The only time my father made eye contact with me was when he was lashing out at me.

He is a complex man. All the ways he primed me for abuse is a struggle for me to put it into words at the moment.

So for now I’ll say that he taught me to accept the “darker” side of masculinity.

The result of having a father like him is that I am mainly attracted to men that really, fucking scare me.

Moving on!

My mother was brought up by her militant, catholic grandmother.

She is neurotic, self-loathing, completely oblivious to her own internalised misogyny. The head-fuckery which she was proud to pass on to me as her “teachings” – so that one day I might become a good wife.

My mother has all kinds of mental illnesses that moulded me to who I am today.

The stories about her are disturbing and I am building up the courage to share them one day.

I digress.

Some of the things she taught me were things like – all men are evil and that woman-hood is nothing but suffering.

As a result of having a mother like her I feel worthless, ugly, fat, unlovable and a failure as a woman.

As well as being controlled and abused by both parents, I grew up as a second class citizen.

I lived in the Islamic Republic of Iran for 7 years, from the age of 12 to 19 years old and the experience for me, a teenage girl was totally unbearable.

I could write endlessly about the injustices for women and girls living in Iran, and I will get round to it…

(Spoiler: I ran away from home, got back to to the UK and was homeless for a while)

I know there are people who are far worse off than me…but looking at the shitty cards I was dealt, it’s obvious that I never stood a chance in love and relationships.

I lost the game before it even started – right?

Love is a drug

I started dating someone and I am thinking it might go somewhere.

Full disclosure, we have only been on one date. And yes, this is a strange thing for me to say.

I am totally getting ahead of myself.

I KNOW.

Before sounding like I have lost my mind (which is yesterdays news anyways), I will try to explain.

We went on our first date about a month ago, which went well but for various reasons we haven’t had a chance to go on a second date. These being, he is now overseas on holiday – and, in his words, he took it too literally when I said to him “see you in September then”

*facepalm*

Anyways, we are talking a lot, and I like him a lot.

Hes so sweet… I told him I feel bad because I am distracting him from his holiday but he is determined to keep the dialogue (and pic swapping) going.

I don’t talk about it much but I have told him about my past relationship, the abuse, the PTSD and the nightmares. It is so easy to talk to him about this stuff.

An interesting thing happened yesterday at work, which has thrown up some interesting challenges that I am not able to write about yet. When I had an emotional meltdown about it, all I wanted was for him to be there.

And he kind of was, from a distance.

Shit – I barely know him, and out of nowhere I am getting the feels – which is utterly perplexing. It’s nice, but it’s mixed with fear and my brain is like WTF IS GOING ON!!!

Can’t compute.

I googled the science of falling in love today – like, proper research and science stuff.

Did you know that scientists reckon that falling in love affects the same brain reward circuits as cocaine and heroin?

Help.

If we extend this theory to someone like me, vulnerable and a recent victim of domestic violence – then maybe we have some kind of explanation for how I am feeling at the moment.

Maybe I need to rein it in and protect myself? How do I even do that?

I’m not seeing any red flags???

Or maybe its as simple as, I have met someone really special and I just need to chill the fuck out and run with it.

I really don’t want to get hurt again.

Any ideas?