I’m 35, and I’m Alone
The Past That Won’t Let Me Go
I’ve long realized that doubt is like poison. It slowly corrodes from within, turning even the brightest feelings into endless anxiety.
Even if I hadn’t known this before, one particular story would have changed my mind.
It was shared by an acquaintance—Natalie, a rehabilitation therapist who helped my friend Daisy after her hip surgery.
I often watched them: Daisy was learning to walk again, while Natalie never stopped talking. She playfully encouraged her, sharing funny stories, but between the lines, there was a truth that couldn’t be ignored.
One day, I caught myself thinking that in her words, I heard not just someone else’s pain, but something of my own.
When a Father Leaves, He Takes More Than Just Himself
“Girls who grow up without a father are forever different,” Natalie once said, as though speaking into the void.
I listened without interrupting.
“When a man leaves his family, he doesn’t just take his clothes and belongings. He takes the solid ground from beneath your feet, the faith in yourself, and the feeling of safety.”
She paused briefly, then added:
“I was seven when my dad left.”
Sometimes he would visit, but those encounters were so brief that they hardly left any memory.
And the older I got, the more I couldn’t understand—why?
What was wrong with us?
Why weren’t we good enough for him?
That question lodged itself in my soul like a splinter that refused to let me rest.
Mistrust That Destroys
Since childhood, I sought the answer.
Why did he choose a life without us?
With time, I became convinced—even my own father couldn’t love me, so I must be unworthy of true love.
This thought became a part of me.
Every man who entered my life faced not just me, but also my fear of being rejected.
The first boy who asked me to the cinema, I turned away immediately.
I thought, “We’ll sit in the dark, kiss, and then he’ll tell his friends about me.”
No, I wouldn’t allow anyone to speak about me behind my back.
When I fell in love for the first time, it felt like I was ready to trust.
But then my boyfriend left for an internship for six months.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “Everything will be like before.”
But I didn’t believe him.
He suggested we have a child so I wouldn’t fear he’d disappear.
But I got even more scared.
I asked my mum what to do.
“Are you out of your mind?” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands.
And once again, I chose fear over trust.
I went to someone else.
Someone who spoke beautifully, promised the impossible, someone who never intended to stay for long.
I knew it, but I needed proof that I was needed by someone.
But that man was a typical deceiver.
And I lost the only one who truly loved me.
I’m 35 – and No One’s Here
I recently turned 35.
It’s not a scary number.
But what’s daunting is the emptiness inside.
I have no family.
No child.
Not even a man to wait for.
And you know what’s most terrifying?
I realize it’s all my fault.
Not those who came and went.
But me.
I’ve always doubted.
I’ve always looked for the catch.
I’ve always anticipated betrayal.
But until I learn to have faith, there truly will be no one to love me.
Am I right?
