Losing Your Dreams

Three dreams of mine have all been ruined in a very small space of time. It is going to take a long time to get over these and to feel okay again. When something has been your life dream for as long as you can remember, having to give it up feels both hard and scary. I am literally losing part of my identity.

I have always wanted to be a writer, for as long as I can remember. Even in primary school, when we had to write sentences for our spelling homework, I was writing stories. Now that I have my own place, since January, I have been looking into making this dream a reality. I have been researching into literary agents and publishers that that produce a similar type of fiction to what I write. I have learnt that the publishing world is incredibly different now to what it was ten years ago. Audiences don’t care as much for the story as they do the person behind it. It matters more to readers to be able to interact with their author through social media, for the authors to travel more, to meet their audience, do more conventions etc. That all starts with having an audience, and literary agents won’t take you on if you don’t have a presence on social media. I did have social media. I started an Instagram account back in March, in hopes of re-finding three online friends that I had during lockdown, before Elon Musk bought Twitter. I found them and it was so nice to be back in touch with them again. I discovered a whole community of females my age with the same type of sensory autism. I found a community of women my age encouraging each other to get out there with their writing and offering each other tips and tricks to work with literary agents. I had to leave all of that behind for two reasons. An ex messaged me that he was reading my thoughts online and spitefully misinterpreting everything. He was incredibly malicious about it and it made me want to remove his connection to me, which was through my Instagram account. I, also, had a huge safety breach, where a complete stranger was able to provide my full name and full address to the emergency services, for a well-being check. No one knows my address, not even work. I cannot receive post at my address, so my workplace still have my mum’s address. Someone that I do not know, said that they know me, claimed to be my friend and, after looking me up online, somehow managed to get my full address. That is absolutely terrifying. Someone that I do not know thinks they are my friend and knows my full name and where I live. I cannot have a social media account, because my safety is now at risk. Without a social media account literary agents don’t accept new writers. So now I have to let go of my dream of writing. I really thought that this year was going to be the year that I tried. Instead, I am now scared for my safety.

The scary stranger safety risk also means that I have to sell my maisonette. I am absolutely devastated. I finally own my own place, I have painted every room, I have a brand new kitchen fitted, I have hung up shelves in various places and I have hung up my canopy in my reading nook, and now I have to give it up. I am going to have to find somewhere to rent and just keep moving forever, which I know isn’t that bad. I don’t need to own my own home, as I do not have children to pass the property down to. I know I can never find somewhere under £130,000 again. I love my home. It is mine. It is, I would say, around 95% sensory autism friendly. I have one neighbour below me, no one above me, no one beside me. It is as close to a detached home as someone on just less than £30,000 could afford. I am terrified to leave my home, in case the stranger who thinks we are friends is watching me. I am terrified to be home, knowing that a stranger knows me and where I live. I don’t know if they are physically watching me. All I know is they claimed to be my friend and knew me from online. Friends, from work, are taking it in turns to take me out to places, so that I am hardly ever home – to be on the safe side. But then I fear that this person might break in, somehow, if I am constantly out. They are the ones who said that I have to sell it though. They are right. A stalker who thinks we are friends could cross any safety boundary. Another fear is that prior to owning my own maisonette, I spent over £2,500 applying to properties to rent. Estate agents are quick enough to take your application fee, but some of them say they don't pass single people's applications over to the landlord, for financial stability reasons. I don't have a guarantor either, as my Mum doesn't own her own home, so finding somewhere to rent has been feeling like an impossible mission lately.

The third crushed dream is accepting that I will never have a partner. Growing up, my home life was not safe. There was no love. There was no calm. Things were often quite scary, for a young child. All I have ever wanted is to have that safety. I don’t need someone to look after me, to do things for me, to pay bills for me, to take me places or anything like that. I feel safe on my own. I feel happy on my own. I love my own company and I will be content being completely alone forever. But what I always wanted was to just know that someone was there, who loves me and won’t just get up and walk away one day. I want to know that someone loves me just as much as I love them. Someone I can cuddle after a long day, who wants to make dinner together, spend time together. Someone who I can be there for if they have a bad day. I want someone who doesn’t want drama, to always host, to always be visiting people or off travelling somewhere. I have accepted that I am too old. There isn’t going to be anyone out there around 35 years old who has never been married and doesn’t have any children, who isn’t single because they are an avoidant/emotionally immature. I don’t want someone who thinks that me asking if they are okay is me being emotionally unstable. I want someone who knows that I love and care deeply and I want to know that they are okay. I am sick of both men and women who do not want you to act like you love them or you care about them, but they want the level of physical intimacy that comes with it. If I am asking if you are okay, it is because I love and care about you and I genuinely want to know that you are okay. If I don’t love you and don’t care about you, I won’t ask you how your day was, how you are feeling and if you are okay. I won’t care if I don’t hear from you for several days or weeks at a time, but news flash, I also won’t want to cuddle you, kiss you or anything more with you. The only people who genuinely want a loving relationship will already be in one long before turning 35. Rather than be with someone who only wants a situationship, I would rather be alone forever. I am mentally stable when I am alone. I am happy when I am alone. I can do things when I am alone. As I mentioned above, I have friends, from work, who have been spending time with me, we have been to Stratford-upon-Avon, Leamington Spa, the witchcraft shop I have been wanting to go into for over twenty years, we have been to the Think Tank, YO! Sushi and a Weatherspoon’s. I have Manchester and the Sea-Life Centre on the cards for this weekend, which Snuffles and I are really looking forward to. I don’t need a wife or a husband to get through life, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to love someone and care about someone, and to feel loved and cared for back.

I just feel very lost right now. It is like part of my identity has been taken away. I am very much against people who change their personality, but when three huge parts of who you are have to be taken away from you… I don’t really have the words. Empty and lost are all that spring to mind.

- Josie -