Online dating and the survivor

I had an epiphany today.

It was an epiphany brought on by the fraught state of affairs that is online dating.

I started dating using the usual sites quite soon after splitting up with my ex. We had spent such a long time distanced (emotionally and physically) from each other that, while I still had all the emotional and financial crap that comes with a divorce to deal with, I felt like I wanted to go out and kick up my heels a little. Plus I was horny as hell.

So I dated a little bit. Then I met this guy that I dated for a couple of years (off and on – we broke up 3 times, finally for good late last year). So I got back on the dating hobby horse. Uploaded my photos, wrote myself a quirky, just-amusing-enough profile. I got heaps of hits, lots of messages. It’s good for the ego to know that X number of guys want to meet you and several of them have messaged. So I went on a few dates, chatted with some.

But the dating experiences left me feeling bereft. Less than. Judged. Unvalued. Dirty. And I always wondered why that was, could not quite put my finger on it. I open an account somewhere, chat to a few guys, maybe go on a date, then get into the state where I’m feeling judged, unvalued, dirty, horrible, and then delete my account. Then a couple of weeks later repeat the whole process.

My most recent dating experience was a guy who, for all intents and purposes, was perfectly nice. We met for a drink which extended to dinner, then an after-dinner drink and conversation, then a quiet stroll and a bit of a pash. We had heaps in common; same age, similar values, similar goals, similar life plans, kids at same stage, liked a lot of the same stuff, etc. I felt really good about it. We texted back and forth, he said a lot of sweet stuff.

Then we had sex, and it all … petered out. His texts tapered right off. He didn’t call. I told myself that he just needed space – we’d had a really intense time leading up to our sexual encounter and he just needed the headspace. The last time we saw each other we talked about a date this weekend, and I made a deal with myself that I wouldn’t push it, I would just give him the time and space to follow up with the arrangements (I was meant to be coming to him) and that would be my sign that all was good.

But he didn’t. By yesterday evening (the date was meant to be this evening) I realised he wasn’t going to follow through with date. And I logged on to the dating app we use and there he was online. All evening.

This was the point I decided I was done with online dating. Not out of a hissy fit, but because it turns me into an insecure, neurotic bundle, and I don’t know why. So I decided to delete my profile, but thought I would message the very few guys I had actual conversations, just to explain that I wasn’t being rude, I was just going offline. There were probably messages from 50 or so guys there to wade through, and probably only 3 or 4 that weren’t a comment on my appearance or sexual in nature.

Now, since I don’t think ghosting is very polite, I sent the guy a text this morning to say that I got the impression that he wasn’t interested in seeing me again and that it was fine, I wished him all the best in his search. He responded that he felt like I was a totally different person this week, negative, expecting things to end.

And he had a point. I totally did. Because once we had had sex, I knew he would back off. Which he did; in his communication and then being back online for hours yesterday, presumably chatting and still looking, even after all the stuff he had said to me about having a connection, about wanting to know all of me, about felling so close to me. Yet once he had achieved his goal (ie, sex) he was ready to move on.

But I took onboard his feedback. Later today I took a bushwalk – being out in the bush is where I do most of my heavy thinking. I rolled things around in my head as I sploshed through the rain and I realised something.

There is a reason why online dating makes me feel so bereft, unlovable, judged, unvalued and dirty. As a survivor of child sexual abuse, I spent years feeling that my only value was what I could offer sexually. No-one could possibly like me, let alone love me. I would have sex early on and desperately hope it would lead to someone somehow loving me. But the whole time I was doing it I felt vile and slutty and did not truly believe I was lovable.

The thing about online dating is that it’s primarily a visual activity. You are looking at a bunch of profiles, someone looks appealing, you click on their profile, maybe read a bit, and that is the basis of them being of interest to you or not. If some guy sends you a message and you don’t respond, they will quickly move on, or they’re already chatting to several people at the same time as you, and vice versa.

So you put up your nicest photos, where you look pretty and fun and exciting. And? You get judged for your sexual value. You know that when you date a guy, if you don’t put out soon enough, he’s got plenty of others who will. And when you do put out and they lose interest … you have just had it proved that your value is in what you have to offer sexually.

It’s been a long, slow realisation. And I know that not every guy is like this, but I think even the nice ones (like the most recent guy I dated, who was really pretty nice) have a tendency to push for sex early on, simply because they can. And I know that I could always have said no, but I didn’t. And when you’ve had sex early on, there is no chance for you to have made a genuine connection. So what does it matter if you never see them again, when there’s plenty of others online just waiting for you?

And so you move on. And the guy (or it might be the girl, I don’t know) goes back online to find his next conquest, and the girl (or guy) sits at home and feels like shit, bereft, alone, unloved, judged, unvalued and dirty and wonders why she does, and beats herself up for not being tougher and getting too invested in a guy.

And she does because she does not realise that it is because that is how the sexual abuse made her feel. That your only value is in what you have to offer, sexually. And no-one is looking out for you, so you feel bereft, alone, unloved, judged, unvalued and dirty.

Until today. Today I realised, and acknowledge that online dating is not for me. The chances of me meeting someone who wants to actually get to know me before diving into a sexual relationship are slim to none.

 

 

180

I find myself having performed a psychological 180 degree turn this weekend.

This past week has been crazy busy. The other EA was absent this week on leave, so it was arranged that I would work full-time to cover her absence. As a result I was supporting my boss and my boss’s boss (which I have kind of been doing previously, as the other EA also works part-time, so I cover for her on the day’s she’s not there).

And I did a great job. I would even go so far as to say a fantastic job. I had feedback from others to say that they had never seen A, my boss’s boss, so organised. I felt like I moved into a great working relationship with him. He’s quite quirky but we established a kind of give-and-take dynamic very quickly and it really worked well. I drafted some correspondence for him and he was very impressed at my writing abilities. At the end of the week I gave him a rundown on what he had coming up (appointments and tasks I had scheduled for him) and he asked me not to hand those items back to his regular EA, but instead keep carriage of them. Other people in our department commented to me that there was a very different work environment at play when I was there as opposed to the other EA; that it was more dynamic, comfortable and easygoing. I achieved a lot.

And it was busy. I have been on a bit of a high from the adrenaline of working in a fast-paced environment. And I loved it. I loved my job, the busy-ness, achieving goals for an exec and knowing that I was keeping him – and my usual boss – both on track. Getting feedback to that effect was great. I even loved being there full-time as I was able to get a feel for the day-to-day rhythm of the work environment, which is not something that happens when you miss 2 workdays every week, as priorities and events can change so much in that short amount of time.

So this just adds to my confusion. Maybe I *am* on the right path for me. 2 weeks ago if you had asked me “Does your job allow you to use your best talents and abilities?”, I would have given a resounding “No.” I felt like a fish out of water – in the wrong place at the wrong time. After this past week, my answer would be almost the complete opposite. I was using my best abilities. And, from what I can surmise, the work environment seemed to be influenced by me.

And now the opportunist in me is hard at work. I can learn a lot from this industry, and while not directly related, I can leverage my bachelor degree to my advantage in choosing a postgraduate course that could possibly give me some grounds for advancement in the future. Not now – in a year or two.

I’m still on a high this morning from my week of full-time work. I don’t think that happens in a job you hate, right?

Golden child

I have just had my mother stay overnight on her way down south to a family reunion. She has taken my middle boy with her. They left last night and already I miss him – it’s like there is a hole in my life, even though I am going about my day and doing things that wouldn’t normally involve him anyway. His absence is still noticeable.

I’m sorry to say that even for that brief, overnight stay, my mother drove me nuts. I mean, I love her and all, and I worry about her, but still.

80% of my mother’s conversation is focused on my eldest sister and her 3 children, and how wonderful, brilliant and clever they are. Now, I’ve always known that this sister was far and abive mum’s favourite child, and generally I tolerate her constant extolling of their respective virtues pretty well, but yesterday it got to the point where I just wanted to tell her to shut the eff up about it.

There wasn’t a subject that couldn’t be related back to C and her brilliant brood. At one point, our other visitor (mum had invited her cousin to lunch with us yesterday as well) commented favourably on the fact that 2 of my kids had settled down to a game of chess together. Instead of complimenting my kids (since I was in earshot, after all, as were they), mum’s response was, “Oh, C’s children play chess. Yes, they all do. They’ll frequently sit down and have a game.”

*sigh*

And I accept, if course, that I (and the rest of my siblings) will always be the lesser child(ren). So what is my beef, you may ask? I don’t really know. I guess it puts me on offside because I’ve never had the security of unconditional love the way my older sister has. I have always felt less than; not good enough. I’ve felt inferior as a person all my life and as a mother since becoming a parent, which has had a big impact not just on me but also my kids, since I am constantly second-guessing my choices.

I guess this is another thing I need to let go, and that’s what I’m doing here. Letting it rankle for a while so I can put it aside. It doesn’t serve me, nor my kids.

So

I’ve been here before

I love getting parcels in the post.

Over the past few years I have done my fair share of online shopping, and it’s always a thrill to arrive home to find a parcel sitting there waiting to be opened. It’s like having a birthday.

Yesterday, my parcel was a book I’d ordered. ‘The Pathfinder’, by Nicholas Lore. In all my scouring of the internet in search of the advice that is going to help me in making some decisions over the coming months, this one has come recommended.

So last night, after I’d come home from work, gone out again to a meeting, then come home again and performed all my evening chores, I settled down in bed for a bit of light reading.

I hadn’t read much more than a couple of paragraphs when I realised: I’ve read this before.

I suppose when you’ve read as many self-help books as I have, you’re bound to start doubling up eventually. Fortunately, I don’t already own it – I must have borrowed it from the library at some point. I don’t think I’ve read more than a few chapters, and I don’t think I’ve attempted any of the exercises with any seriousness.

At any rate, expect to see my trotting out some reflections on the exercises, as I’m planning on working my way through them in the coming weeks. I have a brand new notebook and everything.

The art of staying

It’s all well and good that I am making progress – or at least, think I’m making progress – in figuring out what to do with my life. It’s all well and good that I can acknowledge that I’m not in a place to be able to quit and change now; that I need time and much thought before I can make any decisions.

Because I find myself on the train this morning, trundling off to a job I don’t enjoy or like, with people I can take or leave. And my next three evenings are taken up with meetings and ac5ivities that I once enjoyed and believed in which have now become obligations that I resent.

I guess now I need to look at the smaller details, and figure out how to find enjoyment in situations which, overall, don’t bring me joy. Acknowledge that it’s not forever. That I do have a choice in this and at the moment I am choosing to stay where I am.

I guess this where all that gratitude stuff comes in.

Getting unstuck

Since I started counselling last year, my therapist and doctor have been admonishing me to start exercising. They both believe that exercise plays a huge role in the treatment of people with depression/anxiety. The evidence in support of this is pretty overwhelming, so who am I to argue?

However, getting active is something I struggle with. I have, like most people, a lot of demands on my time. Particularly on the days I work, when I’m up at 5.45 and usually by the time I’ve finished running around after the kids, preparing dinner, getting kids to bed and getting stuff ready for the next day, it’s 9.30 or 10 o’clock at night. I have no intentons of trying to squeeze some kind of workout into those days.

Still, there are the days I don’t work. But although some evenings I may have had the idle thought that I should go for a walk/do a workout/hop on the statonery bike/move my body in some way the next day, by the morning my motivation will have waned, and I can come up with a hundred other priorities that need to be done first. So the exercise just never gets done.

I’ve been reading upon how to get unstuck, however. Because, as I see it, that’s where I am. I’ve reached this crossroads in my life, with no idea of where to go next. At some point I will choose a path, but for now I need to just sit with it for a while. I have plans to strip back my life to the bare essentials. I’m on a committee which has increasingly become a chore that I no longer enjoy. I had told them that I would be prepared to stay on for another year, but not after that. Fortunately our major activity winds down after July and my obligation to them also winds down. Our AGM is next week and I will let them know uncategorically during the elections that I am happy to step aside now, but if not I will not be standing next year. My other obligation is the musical production I’m currently in. I had auditioned for this in November last year, thinking that it would be a good way to get out of the house and do something creative. But I’m not enjoying it. It doesn’t give me the buzz I once enjoyed.

So I will be removing these two obligations from my life in the coming months, and I think that will help to give me the headspace that I need to contemplate any major decisions. And it will give me the time to be able to perhaps try some volunteer work in any fields I might be considering, which I think is going to be critical. Not just so I can see if I like this or that kind of work, but it will also give me contacts in the industries I might be considering.

One of the pieces of advice I read for helping yourself get unstuck was to shake up your routine. Do something different. So I did. Well, nothing groundbreaking, but different to what I normally would do.

Yesterday, I took a walk. I put on my runners, walked my daughter to school, and instead of coming home and doing the housework, I headed up the road. I live in a no-through suburb and there’s one major road that goes through it, does a loop at the end and you come back down again; it’s about a 6km walk. So off I went. There’s no shortcuts back so I was committed to the 6km walk on a beautiful early autumn morning. I just let my thoughts run wild and enjoyed the sun and the sights of my neighbourhood. My plan is to do this walk on every non-work day.

So here I am, killing two birds with one stone; my mental health and my stuckness.

A theory

So, while I’ve been working today, I’ve come up with a bit of a theory.

This slump/rut/midlife crisis/whatever you want to call it has been going on for a while. A few months now.

I’ve worked hard to get sober, worked hard to combat my depression and now I’ve reached a point where all my efforts seem to have been for nought.

At least, that’s one way to look at it.

I often forget that I am a recovering/recovered alcoholic – because this isn’t my identity any more. A few years ago, I got myself sober, dragged myself out up off the floor and made myself a functioning, employable human again. Did some study, gained some experience, and now I’m back to being pretty good at what I do.

And on the one hand, that seems pretty trivial, but on the other, it’s not. It’s quite an achievement, really.

And I think I’m coming to the realisation that this path is not for me, but it is a path that has served its purpose. I didn’t even think about it at the time, but I chose to go back into work that I knew I could do. And while at times I have been frustrated to be back where I was before I had kids, the fact is that going back to this work  has given me something to focus on besides where my next drink was coming from, as well as life skills and, most importantly, confidence in myself. Confidence to apply for better jobs. And now, confidence to acknowledge that this is no longer for me.

I’ve felt like I was at the cusp of something for a while. I think that’s it. And now it’s time to move on.

Acceptance or surrender?

So, it’s been a while since I posted here.  I’ve been busy.  Well, not really busy, but occupied.  It’s been school holidays and Christmas and whatnot.  I had about 4 weeks off work (leave without pay) all up.  I think this is the longest I’ve spent with my children in about 5 years.

And I don’t know if it was spending this time with my kids – just being around when they are around, being there to take them places when they need or want it – but I’ve been feeling very strongly that this is what I want to do.

I returned to work last week and I’ve felt very disengaged.  I think I was slightly disengaged before, but now it’s much more so.  I don’t want to do this anymore.

And I know I’ve complained about that before, but I think perhaps having had a solid break from doing this type of work for the first time in a long time, and I’ve come to the realisation of how much I just really don’t enjoy it.  I mean, I like being occupied, and having something to do, but honestly, I could take or leave it.

I’ve tried really hard over the past several months and years to take some ownership over what I do.  People ask me, “What do you do?” and I say, “I’m just an admin.”  And they chide me and tell me I’m not “just” anything, how an admin is really an important part of any business, etc.  And I know this.  I know that admins are important.  I know that I am, and have been, important to my bosses.  I know that I’m good at it.

So I had been working at taking pride in what I do.  But you know what?  I don’t.  There’s always been a part of me that has refused to accept that that is who I am.  And for a while I was enthusiastic about my new job as an executive assistant, I admit.  I figured I had moved to a role that would give me a lot of scope for personal development.  And it is a good job!  I’m lucky to have it.

But still, I find that I just don’t care about a lot of my tasks.  I just don’t.give.a.fuck, and I have to fake the energy to get through it.  Meanwhile, I understand that most people have to do that with their jobs, but it doesn’t sit well with me, personally.  It doesn’t feel very authentic.

So while I was on leave, I was trying to come up with ideas for some kind of job that I would genuinely enjoy.  Something that would really speak to me.  But I could not come up with one single thing.  Yes, there’s plenty of things that I could potentially do that would be a logical step from administrative work:  for example, accounting, human resources, project coordinator, etc.  Loads of things.  But I am simply not interested.

It has occurred to me before that maybe I should just get a job in a supermarket or something.  And I’m feeling that very strongly at the moment.  Something I don’t have to think about, that just brings in money.

And I wonder: is this self-acceptance, or surrender to inevitability?  Am I finally accepting that I don’t feel the need to be ambitious?  That I don’t feel the need for a career?  Am I accepting that life doesn’t have to be lived according to the prescribed schedules of others?

Or am I just giving up.  Have I stopped caring?  Does my lack of ambition stem from a lack of self-awareness?  Am I surrendering to mundanity in a big way?