Here's the thing: it has taken me a very long time to realise that it is okay to want to eventually find a boyfriend/partner/whatever and settle down. I spent so many years thinking it was an inherent weakness to want someone. Last year, a psychiatrist assured me that actually it is okay, that most people want that. And now I find myself arguing that point to my own mother. I guess she's never wanted that or, if she has, has long since given up on the idea. But I am 23 and a romantic and a sexually (in)active adult and, yes, a long-term boyfriend or even husband is something that I want for myself. I know that it's something many of my friends want also. And that's not weird. That's normal. I've finally accepted that.
At the moment, I'm really struggling with my sense of self. Who the fuck am I? Is this what I want for my life? Lately (read: for the last twelve months), I have felt like the ugliest person in the world and that feeling was exacerbated when I moved to the UAE last August. Last August, I still wore bright colours but by December I was rocking the goth look almost exclusively. But not even in a cool way. More in a dowdy middle-aged loner type of way. But, with all due respect to dowdy middle-aged loners, that's not who I am. At least, it's not who I want to be. And it's just gotten worse and worse.
In an ideal world, what a parent wants for their child is happiness, in whatever format. I've always felt like, for my family, money and appearance was most important. Maybe everyone feels like that. I dunno. Both of those things are important to me too. But I have lived here for 12 months and I am still broke. Yes, I've done a couple of cool things and I've bought a couple of cool things but ultimately I have practically no social life and other that my Urban Decay Electric palette which I rarely use, I have nothing to show for the last ten months of my life. And fuck that shit.
I'm not happy here. I'm not happy at home. I think I want to get a teaching qualification because I think it would make me happy and provide me with a vocation and a stable career but would it actually make me happy? I had a brainwave the other day (rare, lately) and thought that maybe what I wanna do is work for an LGBT activist organisation and live in Dublin or Cork or England or some other western place. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of love for the Arab countries. I am fascinated by the language, the culture, the religion. But I can't see myself living here forever. I'm too alt for the Las Vegas of the Middle East.
I'll paint you a picture of my dream life right now. (Honestly, I'm happy to have even thought of something that I want to do. Recently I've felt so meh about my life, thinking that maybe nothing would make me happy, that I have no dream. It feels delicious to have finally found something that I'm passionate about.) In college, I spent two semesters working with the LGBT society as public relations officer and I loved it. I got to spend time with interesting, passionate people, I got to write, and I got to employ some of the skills my degree apparently provided me with. Feminism and LGBTQ issues are something I have felt strongly about for so many years and the other day it finally hit me that that is where my passion lies. I thought there was something wrong with me for not having a dream job but there it is right there. My only concern is that if I did find a suitable job in that area, it wouldn't pay very well and I've lived a pov life too long. I want nice things. I dunno.
What I also want is a partner. Someone I love and who loves me. My mother said, "I thought you wanted more from your life than that." At the moment, I'm working in a place that doesn't offer a whole lot of job satisfaction, in a country that doesn't offer a whole lot of anything except poor human rights, bad water supply and unbearable fifty degree heat. Is this the "more" my mother was referring to? It's not unnatural to want someone. But I know I will not find someone here. And that's the point.
For the last two days, I've been toying with the idea of just moving home. I guess I'd still be me at home though. I know that certain people would hate to see me return home because for them it would indicate failure on my part. And I know that certain people would love to see me return because for them it would indicate failure on my part. Which basically means that I would be as miserable at home as I am here.
Another major problem is that, thanks to my darling brother, I have a substantial debt to pay. Even with my steady income here, I'll struggle to pay it but I have a better chance of doing it here than at home. Of course, when it is paid, I will happily tell my brother to go fuck himself. At that will be a proud moment.
I'm acting as though I'm in two minds about coming back here after summer vacation but I know I'll return. Honestly, right now I don't even want to go home because I know that I don't have anyone's support in what I do. I lose either way.
The only upshot is ... Actually, I just realised that there is no upshot. Oh well.