DIARY OF A MIDDLE-AGED BRIDE: THE WILDERNESS YEARS



Dear Diary


Self love never came easy for me and I will be the first to admit that my 20s were basically wilderness years pretty much like the Israelites leaving Egypt. So close to the destination yet so far! 

I wish I had known what I know now in my early 20s. And having observed others...I know that there are women in their 20s who have a better understanding of themselves than others. The question I always ask...where did they learn? Was there a specific school they attended that I missed out on? Like say...in between Class Eight and High School? Or right after High School? My mum taught us to be good, disciplined girls...so I won't say that it was from a lack of proper guidance but what I do know is...I never learnt to love, value and accept myself through my 20s. It was not until my early 30s when I was forced to learn the hard way through a excruciating, heart breaking experience, that I became fully self aware and aware of how to deal with others as well. I think this is what is termed as Emotional Quotient (EQ). It must have been close to zero in my 20s!  Earlier, I talked about being raped at 17 and how this had significantly affected my self confidence and I ended up looking for love in all the wrong places not knowing that I needed to do is love myself truly and authentically. 

After the relationship with Jay (see this post), I got into a relationship with someone else which lasted about a year or less. He was a nice guy...can't complain but our relationship ended after a very weird incident. He had moved into a new place...a pretty nice house. I visited over the weekend and found that he wasn't done unpacking yet (as if this would be a priority for any young man...haha) So that Saturday morning as he went off to work, I was left behind sleeping-in which is one aspect I have always enjoyed about Saturday mornings. I am not much of a morning person and I have always wished reporting time to work was like 9.00am to 6.00pm. That would be my perfect world! So anyway....I finally woke up and attempted to prepare breakfast but found it a tad difficult since most of the utensils were still in boxes. So being the "nice girlfriend" that I was...I decided to unpack. This meant cleaning up all the cupboards, lining the shelves and arranging all the utensils and cutlery in a very orderly fashion. I suffer from a bit of OCD and it was at it heights back then...so the process was all very meticulous. Now my OCD would not allow me to stop there! I then proceeded to scrub every inch and corner of that house and unpack everything else. I was one very satisfied girlfriend by that afternoon!!! Little did I know that I had just triggered the death of the relationship. I then locked up and heading home almost skipping happily away and patting my self on the back. That evening....I got a very cold phone call when he got back home. "Why did you clean up"? For me...the answer was rather obvious..."Cos it was dirty?". I sincerely never meant any harm and neither was it an insinuation of anything else. He didn't speak to me for a few days after that and things just started to go downhill from there. I can't remember how long it took after this incident before we broke up...but it wasn't too long. Later on....he admitted that my little clean up exercise had made him feel like I was staking my territory! That was the last time I allowed my OCD to take over in such a situation...boundaries...boundaries...boundaries! Tough lesson I tell you. So from there on....I became the "hands-off girlfriend" and I would never even wash dishes without asking first.  You can picture me gingerly holding a spoon up and asking "Can I wash this without trigger world war 3"? 

After this, I dated a very nice gentleman for about a year. Oh...I have never been treated so well! I was sure this was it...and I had found "the one". It was a year of bliss....no arguments or fights...just loads and loads of love. Sadly, he had to move to the UK after the one year was up to go study for his Masters at the London School of Economics. It was a great opportunity for him. We agreed that I would join him when it became possible and off he went. Around this time...I got a job offer to go work for one of the big four audit firms. For me..it was the move of a lifetime as I was really tired of Funguo. The working hours were too long and the job itself exhausting. It was a welcome break! I loved my new job and the working environment. We kept in touch as he settled into living in the UK. Soon..we started talking about me moving there and he even told me of a couple of jobs he would secure for me. These were mostly casual jobs as would be expected. I really loved this man dearly...but I couldn't see myself leaving the new job to an unknown future. Mostly...what scared me was what would I tell my parents? It also meant that I would go live with him....so would that translate into a marriage? This thought would get my heart beating fast...and would basically scare me out of my wits! Did I overthink the whole thing? I mean...what was so hard about moving to a first world country? Silly girl! At 26..I still wasn't ready for marriage and I certainly didn't even like the idea of it at all. More over, how could I go live with someone my parents had never met? All these doubts clouded my mind and I began to pull back from the relationship. I wish I had dealt with the fear at this point in my life...cos guess what, it only grew up to become a big monster. I felt incapable of imagining myself as a wife and basically, lived out the rest of my 20s as a happy-go-lucky single girl who made no commitments. Incidentally, it is around this time that I met my future husband who at that time was otherwise engaged. We would interact professionally very often and the one thing I remember was I always felt really happy to see him (I still do!!) but that was all. We never engaged beyond that but he grew to be someone I held in very high regard and I certainly never imagined that I would end up getting married to him 15 years later. 

Whenever I attempted to get into anything serious thereafter, I ended up trying too hard and putting myself last...overcompensating...being too nice..too available...you name it. All the workings of low self esteem. A good relationship felt out of reach and very often I would joke with Jay (he was still a close friend) and tell him he how he blundered..I was the girl he should have married and for many years...I believed I would have figured out to be a great wife for him. My idea of a good wife was a nice, sweet, church going, virgin girl and trust me...I tried to be that girl and failed miserably!  The rape had stolen that from me...and I always felt unworthy, tainted and afraid that I would never measure up to that image. Essentially...it was ingrained in my mind that I was no longer "a good girl". I could not fit into the mold that society expected.  I attended many weddings during this time...and I always remember fighting the overwhelming feeling that I wasn't good enough for that process and that it was meant to happen to other people...but never to me. Talk about self-fulling prophecies. 

Sadly, it was only a matter of time before my world would come crushing down but then again, had it not crushed..I would never have began my journey to healing and I wouldn't have my son today. Wonderful things do come out of pain!

Sincerely, 

The middle-aged bride 


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Just catching up with the Series now? See previous posts below.

 The Beginning
Ms. Froggie
Crazy, Stupid, Love! 





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