40-year old neurodivergent non-mum who’s never really been in a proper relationship here.
Oh God, here’s the most pathetic thing about grieving my Mum: I followed someone I once fancied in my teens-20s (and they fancied me a bit, but we were too cowardly to actually act on it) on social media after quite a long time not really in contact or indeed interested in what they were doing.
Thinking they would be horrified if they fully realised who I was, I apologised for what happened in the intervening years, ended up too dumbstruck to give more than a few words answers but still ended up replying too much and too often to him and I think they muted me. Rightly so, as I am really annoying right now.
When I was too busy in the throes of looking after Mum up until her death, I had to sublimate any idea of fancying anybody. It was quite peaceful, but it made me feel permanently middle-aged.
Now I actually am middle-aged, the crushes are only reminding me of how unbearable unrequited love was when my frontal lobes hadn’t developed properly and only just after. This time, it just feels like something on top of all the sadmin: I have bills to pay; I have to look for a smaller place as I can’t live in my current now-haunted bungalow; I have a family schism that I need to navigate and it’s not getting any better; I think I might lose some maternal and paternal aunts and uncles in the next few years
There are wars and climate disasters going on, and I’m crying about wanting to love someone who won’t love me. Worst thing is, it’s entirely self-inflicted.