I don’t think I’m a very fun person at the moment, let’s start there. I used to be this irritatingly bouncy, joy-filled fucker who skipped from social event to social event with the words “isn’t this BRILLIANT” on my lips. I loved my friends, found pleasure in so many little things, and although life was often underscored by a pulsing beat of anxiety, usually I could keep that at bay with the promise of a pint in the sunshine and a decent playlist in my headphones as I stomped down the street to reach it.
Now, though, I find myself constantly on the verge of breaking down. Drinks in the pub too often devolve into self-pity. A simple question about how I am can cause me to burst into tears. A lovely gig makes me weep gently at the back of the room, and I slip out before the headliner ends, without even saying goodbye.
When I’m alone, I fluctuate wildly between excitement about the future (I’m making plans) and horror about the past (what happened to my life?!).
No matter, though! As I say, I’m busy! I’m doing loads of STUFF. I have plenty of dates, even a couple of promising first ones that smoothly transition into seconds. There are good men out there, I’ve met some of them. One has such perfect taste in music I’m surprised we haven’t already crossed paths at a gig. He asks me questions. He’s curious. It turns out he’s not a good fit for me, but I like him and that gives me hope.
In between dates, I’m riding my bike. For miles and miles and miles. Hitting my targets, building my confidence. When I look down at my thighs I feel a vaguely-horny pride. I look hot and I feel hot and it’s a shame there isn’t anyone around to appreciate… oh for fuck’s sake why am I crying?
I go speed dating. Bucket list item ticked off! It’s genuinely incredibly fun – sod the naysayers, speed dating’s great. It’s certainly better than OK fucking Cupid. I meet a few men who are decent, and we stay in the bar till it closes, drinking and chatting and swapping numbers in defiance of the rigid tickbox system.
I wake up the morning after to a few texts and chest-heaves of self-loathing. When each message pings in, I itch. This should bring me joy, but it doesn’t. Where’s my joy gone?
In search of it, I go on a trip. It’s only five days, but I cross borders seven times. Every morning I pack up my bags, get on my bike and ride. The roads are beautiful and calm and clear, and the scenery’s immense. I’m on my own and I’m free and I’m happy and my muscles ache in that good-good way: I feel powerful. I force myself to speak a little German. I take a cable car to the top of a mountain then ride all the way down it and I do not die.
I wake up each morning weeping and afraid. I wander the streets in the evenings, daring myself to go in to a restaurant alone and order dinner. I succeed twice, fail three times. Call my big sister who calms me while I heave choking sobs down the phone.
When I return, I try to make good on those dates: chatting to the sweet men who’ve messaged me questions and curiosity. But I’m itching, still. One of them texts me far too fucking much. Another is too serious, lacking the playfulness I crave. I feel like Goldilocks tasting porridge, determining every portion is far too hot or too cold.
A couple of friends step forward with offers of playful sex, and it triggers a kind of panic. No no, not that, not you. I say it’s because I’m not looking for casual, but maybe it’s more than that. I’m just so fucking empty. Cold. Lost.
I hang out with a mate who is loved-up and happy. In the past I’d have found so much joy in this, but right now I struggle to summon it. Where the fuck is my fucking joy? I feel like I’m trying to start an engine that’s just spluttering and dying every time.
I see other people’s happiness through a haze of my own despair, and I despise myself for feeling like I’m ten miles away from my closest friends, even when we’re hugging. The pulsing beat of misery is turning me into a person I don’t recognise or like.
And somewhere at the heart of it, there’s disgust. Bitterness. Bile. He turned me into this person, and I hate her. I cannot use the word ‘hate’ for him, because it feels like crossing the threshold to a dark place I don’t want to go. But I use it for myself because that feels safe. The ugly things I feel about him, I turn inwards instead. Hurting myself over and over to try and keep from lashing out.
The cutest guy I’ve met on the apps messages me once a day. Friendly, chatty, interested. I’m frustrated with him for being so nice, though – if you’re this good then how the fuck do I reject you?
I am not a very fun person right now.
And I definitely shouldn’t be dating.
When did you spot it?
I’m embarrassed by how long it’s taken me to realise this. How many false starts it took to see that I should stop. I hope you realised it way sooner in this post than I did in real life.
If you shouldn’t date when you’re still in love with your ex, you definitely shouldn’t date while you feel how I feel either. I’m past the point they call ‘crisis’, I think, but the rage and disgust and shock still colours every day.
The energy I’m bringing to dating right now is the same that I’m bringing to the rest of my life: a manic, frantic, volatile hunt for joy. And hot on its heels is an aching despair that perhaps my capacity to feel joy has been altered for good.
I act as if I need a new boyfriend, to take away the disgusting taste of the old one, but I’m suspicious of new men in case they’re like the last. In any case, the times in my life when I’ve been happiest have been periods of singledom and… fuck’s sake, why am I crying again?
I’m filling my life to distract me from the horror, and in the process I am treating others badly. Or at least, not with the level of kindness I aspire to bring. I try to be open with the men I am dating, but I’ve failed because I’m not being honest with myself. The only responsible conclusion right now is that I’m nowhere near ready to date.
If I put myself out there while I’m feeling like this, there are two possible outcomes:
- I will meet an amazing person, and I won’t be able to recognise their strengths because the darkness will have me mistrusting and suspicious and looking for flaws.
- I will meet a manipulative person, and let them into my heart because I’m too eager for someone to fill it quickly.
The first would hurt like fuck, but I’d live with it.
The second, I can’t survive twice.
Apologies to the nice men I’ve dicked around on the dating scene. It’s not you, it’s me. And although some of you are bellends who don’t ask me questions, or rate me out of ten, or get drunk and send increasingly sexually aggressive messages at four in the fucking morning… most of you don’t deserve this. I don’t want to inflict this on anyone anyway. I am capable of far, far better.
15 Comments
God, I feel this. I would like to date but I know I’m absolutely not in the right place or mindset for it (and what’s worse, I worry I might never be again). You’re not alone.
<3 Thank you for this, I really appreciate it. I hope that you can process your pain and get yourself to a happier place. Good luck to you <3
Ouch, sorry to read this. I hope you’re in a better place now. Or at least that you’ve got some help with this, maybe talked with someone about it…
Thank you <3 I'm working on it, but definitely a lot of processing to be done. I have lots of people to talk to - I only post these things when I figure I have something to say that might be helpful to people who don't know me (people who do know me get the messiest version ;-)
Absolutely beautiful, authentic, and brave. I’m not sure where you find the courage to broadcast this to all of us, but I am so glad you do. I won’t pretend to have been exactly where you are (that belongs to you) but I remember that feeling of “chest-heaves of self-loathing,” followed by “where did my joy go?” I might replace “joy” with “motivation” or “creativity” or “ideas” or “thing that makes me matter to others.” Too on-the-nose? I learned that when the kitchen is on fire, I shouldn’t fret about the internet being out. I’m sobbing because there’s something I need more urgently that I’m not acknowledging. It’s OK. The internet will come back once we’ve gotten the fire out. Now, if I could only get better at acknowledging what I need… Yeah, I’m still broken.
Never, not once, have I ever read one of your posts and felt betrayed. Thank you for always being your genuine self. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself with all of us. I only hope we can help you half as much as you help all of us. Keep riding keep writing!
“Keep riding keep writing” is absolutely exceptional, thank you – I love it =) And thank you so much for your lovely comment. Honestly I feel a bit awkward about how lovely people have been in response to this post, it blows my mind. Very validating to have so many people tell me they like my work, and definitely a source of joy through the darkness. Thank you so much for this astonishingly lovely comment!
Oh honey….
This sounds all too familiar to me. I’ve been in a happy place for quite a while now (and feeling perplexingly guilty about it). Still, I know from experience that the black dog can show up at any point, and one morning I’ll find it taking a metaphorical shit on my metaphorical lawn and that will lead to weeks or months of the kind of feelings that you’ve described. What I do know is that it sounds to me like you’re doing everything right; everything that I’d suggest, anyway. Self-care seems such a chore when you’re in that kind of fugue, but it’s the quickest and surest way out of it.
The joy will return; you just have to keep after it. And give that fucking dog a kick from me if you see it.
J xx
Ohhh I hear you on the guilt for feeling happy – definitely resonates with times in the past. But I am delighted that you’re in a good place, and I hope you can revel in it a bit while you’re there. The world absolutely sucks so we should make the most of any and all joy we manage to find in it! <3 Thank you for your kind words.
I’ve done the same.
The girl I was chatting to on one of the apps was so sweet and understanding about me backing off and focusing on my own mental state. I hope she’s doing well.
For now, I’m just getting some help, focusing on enjoying myself again with gigs/films/games and trying to deal with the fallout of the last breakup.
It feels like I’m getting there though. Definitely in a better place than a few months ago.
I hope you get to the same place soon
Ah I’m so glad you’re getting there. And well done to that woman for being understanding, and to you for being honest about your struggles. Wishing you all the best and I hope the upward trajectory continues!
Bless you. I’ve had anxiety, depression and a wildly confusing bout of OCD since I’ve turned 40. The only advice I have is that you will get through this, and emerge victorious. Also – get counselling with a good counsellor (it works). And buy yourelse “CBT for dummies” and really work with it. You’ve got this – it’s just that by the time you hit this time of life you’ve been through A LOT. <3
It fucking sucks, and I’m so sorry that the “bouncy, joy-filled fucker” has taken such a battering.
It’s hard to put this kind of vulnerability out there, and you do it so beautifully: With introspective reflection and raw honesty. Thank you for sharing it.
I know you often don’t write in real time, and I hope some of that bounce is at least visible on the horizon by now. Either way, sending lots of love.
Ferns
Thanks for being so honest, vulnerable, and for being so open and sharing. It’s ok to not be ok all the time. We all have peaks and valleys, and you’ll be on the upswing before you know it. There ARE good people out there, but being in the right headspace for it is key. It’s a total cliche, but there’s some truth to it: you’ve got to love yourself before you can love someone else, and love yourself enough to be open to love from someone else. It’ll be ok. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But you’re definitely not alone. Small steps turn into big strides over time. Keep your head up. You’ll get through this, I promise.
It really is a bit awkward, isn’t it? It’s hard to know how to say “thank you” to someone that you’ve never met that is clearly writing so eloquently from a very authentic place about something that feels very identifiable. It’s hard not to shout “Oh God, that’s … not quite but almost … me!” As your last piece points out, we can’t really “help” because that’s not what these comments are for, and that’s not our role here. My partner and I are fans, so, thanks for being you, and thanks for sharing what you can with us! It helps – it really does.
Ah thank you so much Chris! That’s really kind of you to say, and these are exactly the kind of comments that help me keep going <3