rout (part 2)
When I was 21, a boy – or should I say man? – I wasn’t particularly fond of told me he liked me and because beggars can’t be choosers, I decided to give it a shot. When my mother got wind of this or maybe I just told her, she discouraged it, saying he was not suitable for me. She had a point.
We were seated in the veranda when we had this conversation.
It was past 7pm and too dark for us to see each other’s faces. A blessing,
really, because I already felt so exposed.
I remember saying, “I deserve to be happy.”
A few days later, I told this boy I didn’t really like him
and we ended things and he went on to find happiness elsewhere.
Prior to this, I had only had one other person show any interest
in me and he too, found happiness elsewhere.
Since then, I’ve mostly remained by myself, convincing
myself and those around me that I didn’t need a relationship or love.
But I kept searching for happiness, because by then, the
unhappiness I had felt since my teens had become a companion who never left my
side. A few years ago, I was asked how long I have been sad for. I don’t know
what I said, but sadness now feels like an invisible conjoined twin who left my
mother’s womb with me.
The thing about this unhappiness is that is not necessarily
caused by anything. Despite not working at the same place for more than three
years, for the most part, I’ve loved all job opportunities that have come my
way. The degree I took an additional two years to complete gave me with a sense
of purpose. Friends I made along the way have filled my life with love.
But somehow, whatever happiness I felt never stayed around
for long.
Somewhere last year, when I, like many others, were going on
our fifth or sixth week of strict curfew, I looked myself in the mirror and
realised that this unhappiness was here to stay. Perhaps it was linked to my
bad luck with romance. Perhaps my sense of self-worth was linked to how much I
was desired by another.
I remember telling myself over and over again that I was
giving up this search. That I was accepting defeat.
A few weeks ago, the loneliness of yet another lockdown made
me rethink this decision. Perhaps I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Maybe I
had just a little bit more fight left in me.
Perhaps refusing to accept defeat was the only way I could
get through what seemed like a never-ending lockdown.
All this sounds ridiculous because I am yet to complete
three decades of being alive and everyone keeps telling me that your life doesn’t
really end when you hit 30. It can begin at that point, who knows.
But something my mother told me comes to mind.
In your late-teens and early-twenties, you have all these things
you look for in someone. They must look a certain way, have XYZ interests, read
the same authors you do. You have this image of The Perfect Person in mind and
compare those you meet with this image. Of course, this leads to disappointment
but at that age, you can afford to do this.
As you near your 30s, your requirements boil down to
availability and interest. Who is interested in you just enough to give it a go
and who is available? This can feel quite disheartening, especially if you
spent most of your adult life thinking you had time later on to pursue romantic
relationships. This is what I did. I thought I could see what the fuss was
about when I finally decided I wanted to.
Perhaps I could have if the pandemic hasn’t taken two years
off our lives. Perhaps things would be different.
So what does any of this have to do with rout? Rout is the
dictionary.com Word of the Day and I have been doodling or writing about these
words since the beginning of the month as a way of challenging myself to get at
least one thing done during the day.
Rout means ‘a defeat attended with disorderly flight;
dispersal of a defeated force in complete disorder’. It also means any
overwhelming defeat. This is the definition I’m looking at.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror recently. I saw someone
who was badly in need of a haircut. Her belly is fatter than she would like it
to be. Her face looks tired. Defeated.
Maybe I have reached that point of life where I just don’t
have the energy anymore, where I need to accept defeat and get to know that
conjoined twin known as Sadness a bit better.
Or maybe I just need this lockdown to lift so that I can
busy myself with friends and outings and some version of the life I once had.
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