Today is a burnt out day after two busy days. At least it’s nearly Shabbat (the Sabbath). The bit of optimism I had yesterday is hard to find today. I worry that I’m going to mess up my new job the same as I messed up my last two jobs. I worry that I’m simply not well enough to work. I worry that no one could ever love me, particularly if I can’t get and keep a full-time, or at least closer to full-time, job. I feel that I missed my chance to get married, that everyone my age is married by now, which is not true, but feels true. I dreamt last night about the daughter of my parents’ rabbi’s wedding, thinking that rabbi’s children, like royal children, get married easily without any problems. I woke up thinking that rabbis are the aristocracy of the frum (religious Orthodox Jewish) world in many ways. In some ways I’m glad to be part of a community that values education so highly, but (a) it’s often education in a highly specific area that is valued (although more modern communities can value wider knowledge) and (b) it’s not an area that I excel in or have studied in depth.
I just want to be loved, really, and to be able to love someone who loves me. I’m fed up with crushing on people who aren’t interested in me and having to hide my feelings and be careful what I say in case they think I’m a creepy stalker. I feel unlovable. Yesterday I was trying to think of reasons why someone might want me as a husband. It was hard, but it feels even harder today.
Some years ago, two Orthodox Jewish sex therapists (one is a rabbi) produced a sex manual aimed at Orthodox Jews, because they felt too many frum people are ignorant and nervous about sex. It’s probably the only contemporary sex manual aimed at people who are virgins on their wedding night. The psychotherapist I was seeing earlier this year encouraged me to read it, because I was curious and nervous about sex. I tried to order it, but there was a problem with the order and I took it as a sign that I shouldn’t read it. Then when I was dating E. earlier this year I ordered it again and it arrived, but then E. and I broke up and I haven’t picked it up since then. I do still have a lot of questions and anxiety about sex, but the thought of reading it just makes me feel that no one will ever want me. I can’t see myself ever getting married. It’s hard to imagine that I could even date again. I wouldn’t even try to do that unless I was working for longer hours and earning more money. Not that earning more money would make me that much more attractive, but it would marginally help.
When I was growing up, there was a girl at primary school in the year above me who had a striking appearance, very red hair. She went to my shul (synagogue) as well, so I used to see her a bit, from a distance – I never spoke to her or even knew her name. When I got older I thought she was pretty, but she grew up and got married, then got divorced. I moved out of the area and didn’t think about her. But then last year my parents went to an engagement party and she was there and asked after me by name. This surprised me, as I didn’t think she even knew of my existence, let alone my name (I didn’t know her name at the time, but then, I’m bad with names). So now every so often I think about her. She was probably only being polite, but part of me wonders if she asked after me because she liked me. It’s silly really. Even if I saw her again, I wouldn’t have the confidence to talk to her. All my crushes are silly. No one could ever like me.
I don’t know why I’m even writing all this. I’m pathetic, really. No one could like some with depression AND social anxiety AND autism AND on a low income. Then factor in that they have to be Jewish, with a compatible level of belief and observance, and my difficulty fitting in to the community… It’s silly to think that there could even be someone out there for me, let alone that I could meet her and build a relationship with her.
I was davening (praying) before and crying, not through great kavannah (mindfulness) or devekut (cleaving to God), but just through loneliness and despair.