That title is so self-explanatory that it’s funny.

I think if you’ve been out here long enough, you’d know how my mom started to suffer from cancer within my first year of working. When that happened, I had to take over all the responsibilities for the household until she eventually died. That resulted in having to take care of my sick mom and parenting my siblings for a long time. Unfortunately, taking on maternal responsibilities bled over to my romantic relationship as well and I ended up getting burnt out from mothering three people and trying to keep shit together. I was constantly watching out for my siblings who are going through grief and having to remind an ex to pay his bills on time … and shit, does that get to you.

I started going to therapy when I got to a point of running to the office toilet to keep my anxiety attacks under wraps. It was not known to any of my family nor my now ex. Looking back at it now, we were all too young and too immature to be going through all of this without therapy – but hindsight is 20/20 🙂

So moving on – I had been planning on spending an uneventful dinner out with a friend, only to find out I’ve been set up with their friend. It started out mostly fine and to be honest, a little promising. The dude seemed engaged and I honestly have no idea how dating works as an adult, but not being on his phone the entire time was a plus to me. Until this dude started talking about being lonely alone and dating around (comparing his ex to the poor women he dated in the process). Ugh the ick immediately arrived.

I have not made an effort to actively date for almost 3 years at this point, and while it gets lonely, it’s also been quite peaceful. Looking at this dude drinking across the table from me reaffirmed the decision to stay away from anything that will disrupt that peace.

I guess 2022 is still not going to be the year I get a love interest. The longer I stay single, the more I fall in love with my solitude. And the higher my standards get. I still feel like playing catch up with all the years I lost from the stress of having to take care of others (as selfish as that sounds). But I know who I am, and I go all in. I would rather spend my time in comfortable silence than give my everything to someone who’s not gonna give me that same intensity in return.

I kind of miss writing about my life. I started “blogging” while I was in college – when spilling my guts out on tumblr was still considered normal. I never thought about whether someone from a job I’m applying to googles my name and finds the extreme word vomit that has commenced. I guess with my brand having my storytelling as its backbone, I’ve been writing more than I anticipated. And writing about my feelings have taken on a new form and is now on an entirely different platform.

I’m 30 now. So my life has changed drastically from the days when I was still on tumblr. And yet, I still pay the cost to keep this blog (it’s honestly expensive lol) because, at the back of my mind, I’ll one day get back to documenting my life again. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I do see the value in it because I wrote more when I was happier. Trips with my ex, trips with my friends, and whenever I’m hit by a surge of gratitude that I live the life I have. It’s weird to come to terms that while my life now isn’t as exciting or romantic, it’s peaceful. Most days, I feel content with where I am.

But sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I’ve simply just convinced myself that I’m fine. And if I have, maybe happiness truly is simply a state of mind.

I think since the pandemic started, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what do I want and need in life. Back in 2019, I was actively dating because I honestly couldn’t see living the rest of my life alone. I was sure being single was just a phase, and getting back to dating would be so easy. But come 2020, I’m just.. not that invested in the idea. I would go on dating apps and swipe for 30 mins to a few days every 3-4 months, but I’ve never really felt the urge to actually open my heart up.

It’s not that I intentionally find fault in everyone when I was still actively dating. My toxic trait is if I don’t see a red flag, then I could see a potential future with someone.. so I feel the need to get out of there fast. Anyone who seems emotionally healthy for me or has managed to make my heart flutter got cut off in 2-3 months. And no matter how hard I try to fight it, the panic sets in at the idea of being vulnerable again. Therapy calls it “trauma response”, but to me, it just seems logical.

So here I am. I have made the conscious decision to stay away from romance instead of being someone’s shitty girlfriend that comes with a lot of baggage. Some people would think that sounds lonely. But I would rather live my life in peaceful solitude than miserably try to hang on to someone who isn’t ready. Never doing that anymore.

If I’m being honest, trauma aside, life has been objectively better. I’ve had more time to pursue my interests. There is no one to trigger anxiety attacks when I think that they’re potentially lying to my face. I spend my money on gifts for me, my pets, and my loved ones. I sleep through the night. And I have been able to find out who I am, what I want out of life, and what I stand for – without taking into account a partner’s interests.

But there are days where I wish I can just get past this mental hurdle and let someone actually see me. Not just the identity I put on for most people or the branding I gave myself online. I yearn for the intimacy of taking my clothes off and knowing that every single inch of my exposed skin is loved and accepted. That with every hug, someone would run their fingers over scars that have yet to fade and they would cry at the thought of how much my wounds must have hurt. To have someone who’ll understand that I am going to struggle with giving my trust but I’m trying – and would never do anything to make me doubt. I long for someone to feel secure with, someone who would show me with their actions that we’re on the same page. I’m hoping for someone out there who won’t resent the things I love about myself. I never want to feel tolerated, I want to feel like I’m enough for someone to actively want a future with.

I’ll never know if I never try. But I’ve gambled every single thing and went all-in on something that seemed to be a sure win. I don’t think my patched-up heart can go through all that hurt again.