I guess this is the most difficult post I’ve written to date.
I have been left to make a decision.
All the pieces are in play and position.
I believe I have the move to achieve checkmate, but I hesitate.
The fear of the unknown and infinite possibilities cast uncertainty on the manoeuvre.
Familiarity and reliance on the memories of similar situations help guide the decision: to execute or hold back. Therefore, I remember. I remember the time before the journey to recovery; recollecting my feelings as a young girl. My situation, the obstacles and horror stories of my childhood, led a younger self to concoct a story to cope with the pain. I believed wholeheartedly, the only escape from this life was to be rescued by an man – To find my life partner, so he can whisk me away from this life to happiness. Looking back it sounds ludicrous to believe a fictional tale and it’s characters will fulfil my constant need for happiness. As I grew older and wiser, I broke the tunnel and developed full peripheral vision. No longer one with rainbow coloured sunglasses or obscured vision. When I hit the lowest depths of depression I realised no one rescues you. People may provide a boost, but they are unable to take you to the other side – To freedom. This is a journey you take alone, one where you and your mind form a beautiful relationship of acceptance. Thus over the last 3 years my yearning for a life-partner has diminished, as I fell in love with myself and fell out of love with others. I have created a safe bubble which I am afraid to disturb by becoming emotionally available.
In play was my self worth or shall I say lack of self worth. I was afraid of my story – so frightened that it would deter people. Scared of the rejection, I would put up and accept anyone because I didn’t think I was anything special, not a jewel more a stone. I only hardened because of the ghouls of my past, they tormented me til 2016. For 15 years the ghouls and demons kept coming; leaving resonance of their shadows, clouding the serotonin and dopamine. So I slept a lot longer, wept a lot longer, fret with angst until I lost myself and all that remained were remnants of a better time. The story is etched in me. My mannerism, unpredictable emotions, tone of voice, phobia of mistakes – manifested as procrastination, the need to be accepted and the fear of loving and being loved. The partial recovery has yet to completely restore the self worth, as I still find myself asking who would want me with all these page turning chapters. It’s easier to love the character when you are reading but not so much when you are a part of the story. With so much expectation on acceptance how do I leave the comfort of my bubble for a risk, an uncalculated risk with unpredictable outcomes. This is a definitive decision, it will form the blurb of the sequel. Unlike literature there is no spoiler, no skipping the pages or fast forwarding. No way of knowing the ending, will it be a happily ever after? Will he be enough, will I be enough… Will we be enough? How do I make a decision without answers? It’s all a leap of faith but I am unsettled, unsure if I can make the jump.
So here I am about to make a decision to say yes or no. One leads to vulnerability whilst the other leads to independence.
I wrote this post a while back, a few months ago to be exact. The reason why, simple.. I googled blog posts on how I was feeling about reluctance and fear of marriage and found nothing. For an South Asian girl accomplishing the milestone of university, means you have passed onto the next stage of the game, where it’s all fanfares and celebration until you see your next challenge – the matchmakers, the glaring-judging aunts and the constant theme song “How long will you keep her single?”, “She is getting old” and fan favourite “When will you get married?”.
Being single becomes a disease with the only cure being a man of stature… he must be educated, in a ‘good’ job, be pious and from the right village. But no one asks: are you ready, what do you want? Because what else could you possibly want other than a man; when you’ve spent the last few years learning to be self-sufficient. This is all occurs after the ripe age of 23 (give or take a few years), because everyone knows by 26 a woman’s ovaries dry up and she is of no use.
This post is for any girl who is wondering is it NORMAL to not want to get married YET. Is it normal to be unsure and unsettled…. to wonder “I have so much more to accomplish and I do not know if I am ready for another person to enter my sphere, a space which I have carefully cultivated, after removing the weeds of my youth whom sought self-validation in others.” It is normal and you are not alone in your thoughts. I am lucky my parents will never pressure me, but they do feel the pressure as parents to complete their responsibility to ensure I find a life partner. This post is not about arranged marriage but the pressure of marriage and the anxiety that accompanies it.
Bouquets and white doves,