#4 Expanding the idea of soulmates

Why we need many anchors

When I was 19 I met my soulmate at a festival on New Year’s Eve.

We made eye contact through the crowd. It was in the afternoon and the Preatures were playing. Back at camp, I told my friends that I had spotted someone special. That night I saw them again and this time, tipsy and brazen, I made a move, manoeuvring myself between the bodies on the dancefloor so our arms were grazing.

I tried to start a conversation and after a few barely audible exchanges, they yelled over the music into my ear. Want to come with me to get some water, they asked. Are you trying to steal me away from my friends, I said back. They smiled and grabbed my hand, dragging me through the crowd. At the time it felt very romantic. Reminiscing about our meeting years later, they admitted they were actually about to pass out from dehydration.

We exchanged numbers and in the weeks following the festival, fuelled by social media stalking and text exchanges, I became completely infatuated with this person. It happened so unexpectedly and so easily that I was convinced I’d met the one. I attached to this person and all they represented - a life partner, a parent to my future babies, my soulmate - almost instantaneously.

I didn’t question what was happening as they quickly became the centre of my world. It didn’t matter what I was doing or who I was spending time with, I always felt better when I was with them. I’d ditch my friends and family if it meant more time spent together; felt anxious when I didn’t get a text back; altered things about myself - eventually really betraying myself - to please them and keep the relationship going. It got to a point where I believed I couldn’t feel comfortable or ‘myself’ with anyone else.

I look back and now see there was an abundance of exciting and significant experiences happening for me at this time: starting university, moving out of home and generally enjoying the freedom of my early 20s. I prioritised this person over it all.

Six years later, after breaking up and getting back together several times, our relationship came to an end. Thanks to the notes app on my phone, I still have access to the thoughts and feelings I journaled during this time (along with every passionate text message that I never sent). I often stumble upon these archives without warning, usually when I’m searching for my tax file number.

There is a particularly long note from 2017. A journal entry to myself during one of the many attempted breakups before the finale. Among a bunch of lines so cliché I am too embarrassed to reveal in full (to give you the vibe, the passage begins with, I understand now why they call it heartbreak), there is one line that sticks.

You are my anchor and now I am floating. My need to express myself clearly started early.

For a long time after that relationship, I was overwhelmed by feelings of not being truly connected to anyone in the world - a feeling I now recognise as loneliness.

We’re conditioned to believe that we need to search for a single soulmate and romantic partner to save us. It’s a fantasy that gets reinforced through the media we consume, the institutions that govern us and the people we relate with. We’re told that one person will fall into our lives and we’ll no longer feel alone. It’s a promise which drives people to go on television shows to try and fast-track their way there - “I’ve lost hope that it’s going to happen for me” said someone on the latest and every other season of The Bachelor. It’s a huge reason why people lose their heads and put so much pressure on romantic relationships that don’t meet their needs (an idea I explored in another article). And for me, it was the reason I suddenly felt so alone despite being surrounded by people who were very capable of giving me the love and support I need.

Loneliness is an uncomfortable feeling - thrown in the same basket as shame and envy and disappointment - that we don’t talk about much. Maybe because it carries the stigma that you must not love and appreciate the people around you enough. Or, amid a growing discourse around self-love, there is a failure in the relationship you have with yourself.

After that breakup, I didn’t know how to speak about it, let alone manage it, so I did whatever I could to avoid or mask its existence. I moved overseas and started a new exercise regime and threw myself into work and scrolled Instagram and got into a new relationship and ended a new relationship and still, the feeling would come back.

Eventually, what alleviated my suffering was putting energy into other relationships in my life - the relationships I had once relegated to less important than my romantic soulmate. This wasn’t just about being more social and surrounding myself with more people. It was about putting the work in to create relationships where I could feel just as comfortable and ‘myself’ as a romantic partnership.

Contrary to the messages we are regularly fed, Dr Nicole LePera, popularly known as the Holistic Psychologist, believes three key truths about soulmates:

1) that soulmates exist,

2) that we can have many soulmates and

3) that soulmates are the result of work.

I began to realise that the fact I had never had a proper conflict with my close friends was not a mark of our relationships being perfect – it was because I staunchly avoided it, and in the process, may have prevented our friendships from deepening. I started to practice having the kind of honest and raw conversations I would usually reserve for my romantic partner. I learned that I could express my needs and vulnerabilities with these people, and in turn, feel heard and safe.

There is a perceived safety enveloped within the concept of having one soulmate. One person who we pedestal above all our other relationships. One person who knows us better than anyone else. One person who we can’t live without. But what I’ve found is there is safety in numbers.

The confronting truth of romantic soulmates is if it doesn’t work out, we rarely get to keep these people in our lives - at least in the same way. By building and maintaining a network of soulmates, when I feel lost and lonely, it doesn’t take long to find my way back.

Recently I went through another breakup. I felt lonely as I was walking home by myself after a night out. I couldn’t help but think it would all feel easier if I still had that person. A Facetime call came through from my sister and best friend. We debriefed our nights and I felt myself laughing and feeling more grounded. Like I was reconnected to the world and myself. It was a reminder that I am more than that breakup, that night out, that loneliness. I have anchored myself to people who truly know me, and in this way, I can never get too far adrift.

It feels fitting that I am publishing this article at the airport after spending the long weekend away with three of my soulmates. One afternoon we were lying around in the hammock and I decided to read the article out loud for a quick group edit. After all, they are my most honest audience. I suddenly felt all choked up and teary as I read the words. I realised this was really a thank you piece written for them and all the other soulmates in my life who anchor me. I hope you can take something from it too.

Emma / Pooch x