The Soulmate Yearning

Sometimes, I wish I was not wired this way. I crave the ease of a "normal" brain, a neurotypical mind. But what is "normal," really? Just a set of expectations, a mold that society tries to pour us all into.

In these moments of yearning for belonging, loneliness becomes a deafening void.

I wish I had by me someone who gets me, really gets me. Someone who is not intimidated by the way I feel things so deeply, so intensely. Someone who can not only handle my racing mind but actually enjoys the ride. Someone who sees my kind of energy as exciting, not overwhelming.

I crave the kind of connection where intellectual battles become an intoxicating playground. Where we can lose ourselves for hours, dissecting theories, debating ideas and finding joy in the sheer act of learning together.

But too often, I am either overwhelming or underwhelmed.

It is crushingly disappointing when that spark wanes, the conversation falls flat, and their eyes glaze over with a lack of interest.

Either my intensity scares them away, or their flatness leaves me feeling empty and alone.

And it is not just the mind; my heart craves a depth of connection.

I want to share the full spectrum of my emotions,  the vulnerability, and the passion, the euphoria of seeing something beautiful, without without being looked at like a strange, exotic animal.

But finding someone who can ride my waves feels like searching for a needle in the ocean.

It always seems to come down to that impossible equation:

I find emotional connection, but they cannot keep up mentally. They find my energy intoxicating, but my need for intellectual stimulation leaves them exhausted.

Or, I find a mind that challenges and excites me, someone who can match my wit and curiosity, and they lack the emotional depth I crave. They shy away from vulnerability, from the messy, complicated realities of the human heart.

And then, on the rare occasion that I find someone who aligns intellectually and emotionally, we join in our spirits and hearts, and then we stumble upon the frustrating reality of physical and sexual incompatibility.

After not so long, I have become convinced that something must be wrong with me.

'Everyone' says I want too much.

'Everyone' says I should settle for less.

'Everyone' says I am unrealistic.

Why does it seem so effortless for everyone else?

Am I destined to always crave more, to feel the sting of deep mismatches?

Should I surrender to the idea of settling?

To accept a love that does not quite reach all the corners of the 'me' that I have come to know?

Or, do I hold onto the hope, the sometimes terrifying, sometimes exhilarating belief that somewhere out there is a being who embraces every facet of my complicated, messy, roller-coaster reality?

And what if, even then, I find that I become the one who is 'not enough' ?

I live with so much shame for my imperfections sometimes.

What if I am the one who holds back because of my stoic facade, the one who retreats due to fear of rejection, the one still haunted by indelible past trauma, the one who cannot reciprocate the depth they offer?   

What if I'm the one who flinches from their touch, who can't mirror the depth in their eyes?

What if I'm not enough to hold the very thing I crave?

And then there is the Soulmate Myth.

We've been spoon-fed this idea forever, told that ‘the one’ is out there - that perfect match, that person made just for us. But what if is just a fairy tale, a comfort blanket we cling to?

What if this idea of a preordained perfect fit is a cage, subtly gilded, limiting our vision, keeping us from seeing the messy, complicated beauty of genuine connection in all its forms?

It turns out, this might be where that myth comes from:

There is a story in Plato's Symposium, told by the playwright Aristophanes. It goes like this: Humans were once incredible beings, with four legs, four arms, and two faces. They were whole, complete, and powerful beyond measure. Yet these early humans were so mighty that they dared to challenge the gods themselves. That is when Zeus, the king of the gods, split each human in two, separating them from their other half.

Now, as only halves, we wander the earth, forever searching for the missing piece of our souls, the other half that will make us whole again. This yearning, this deep, insatiable longing to find our missing other half, Aristophanes suggests, is the origin of love.

Like Aristophanes, some argue this means we are incomplete until we find our soulmate, that a solitary life is a half-lived life.

But I do not want to surrender to this ancient myth, or any arbitrary social myths for that matter?

What if I can be complete on my own? What if I am not a half-circle searching for its other half, but a full circle, complete in myself? What if this whole idea of needing someone to "complete" us is just that - an idea? A story we've been told so many times, through fairy tales and romantic comedies, that we've started to believe it's the only path to happiness?

What if I do not need to fit into a square, a pre-defined shape of societal expectation, to be whole?

Perhaps true fulfillment comes not from finding someone to complete us, but from embracing the fullness of who we already are. Look at Thoreau, finding solace and enlightenment in the solitude of Walden Pond. Consider the countless artists, writers, and musicians who found inspiration not in romantic love, but in the depths of their own creative spirits. And what about Socrates? He dedicated his life to the pursuit of wisdom, claiming to be "in love" with knowledge itself, rather than any person. Are these lives any less meaningful, any less "whole," simply because they don't conform to the traditional mold?

Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with a life dedicated to romantic love, to finding that special connection. But can I, perhaps, be the one who makes the atypical choice? Given that everything else about me already screams "atypical," what if forging my own path is the most authentic expression?

Maybe, just maybe, the search for "the one" isn't about finding someone to complete us, but about finding ourselves.

🥐