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?

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.