Okay, so I know I’ve already expounded for a while about the fact that I’m good with the fact that I spend a lot of time on my own (see post here if you don’t know what I’m talking about), but I feel like I need to spout on for a few more moments. You see, I did a great job explaining that I am good on my own, but I feel like my reason why was a bit lacking.
I feel like, as an individual, it’s important to be your own best friend. Not in the sense that your best friend is the person you tell all your secrets to, but in the sense that you love spending time just on your own. To me, it’s important to actually enjoy spending time alone. It’s important to be able to be alone without freaking out. Can you say that about yourself? Don’t get weird about it if you can’t. You’re not alone.
Hell, I used to feel a little weird if I wasn’t constantly in contact with someone, anyone! I’m pretty sure everyone goes through that state of mind at some point in their lives. For me, it was about growing self-confidence, and cultivating a kind of love for myself that had been lacking for a long time.
I get the feeling this is going to be a long letter. Try not to fall asleep, okay?
So, here’s a long story:
I was pretty happy as a child, I think. For what I can remember, everything was pretty straightforward, and life was pretty fun until the year I turned 8. Everyone in my grade got along... until the year I turned 8. Third grade. In third grade, a couple of the girls figured out that they could be mean to other girls and, for the most part, they could get away with it. It was pretty harmless at that point, but the degree to which these girls were mean to others increased as years went on. By the time we reached the seventh grade, I had developed a pretty crazy social anxiety disorder. I hesitated to leave home, because I knew what to expect -- social torture.
Back-track as to why this happened, why I became a target. Let’s look at third-through-eighth grade me and see where the points for picking-on came out:
- I was taller than almost everyone in my grade. I grew fast. “Like a weed,” as my grandmother would say.
- I was big into books, and smarter than a lot of the other kids as a result. I kid you not, I was reading classic literature (Poe, Austen, Woolstonecraft-Shelley, Stoker, etc.) by the fifth grade.
- Suffice it to say I “Developed” at a higher rate of speed than 90% of the girls in my grade.
- I was not a big sports fan. See the bookworm point.
- I was not allowed to watch anything that was rated beyond PG. Ever.
- I was not dressed in the “latest” 1990’s fashions. My parents couldn’t afford it. I had hand-me-downs from neighbours, and shopped at second-hand and thrift stores, instead of at the mall... this also meant that I got to choose my own clothes and decide what was cool for myself. I developed an individual sense of style very quickly.
- Adults generally liked me... including most of the parents of the kids who were making my life miserable.
Fast-forward back to the point where I developed the social anxiety problem. I figured out how to fly under the radar -- stay home. Don’t go out.
I had exactly one all-the-time friend through elementary school. I had a couple of other girls who would be my friend after school and on weekends. I can’t blame them for watching their own asses and not making any moves that looked friendly toward me while we were in school. It’s self-preservation. Survival of the fittest. I can’t believe I’m using Darwinist terminology while talking about schoolchildren, but it’s all that fits at the moment. Jesus.
Anyway, Jenny (name changed), would go with me to regional school dances (basically, kids from 3-5 different schools in the area, including my own, would all meet up in one location and participate in a dance. In England, I believe they call this a “Disco.” That’s a much better phrase.). Jenny was not only my friend in this case, but also my guard dog, my personal support worker, my matchmaker, and, in a couple of very awkward instances, a human shield. We had insults hurled at us (Jenny had a similar problem at her school as I had at mine), as well as assorted food items. Together, we learned to ignore it. We learned how to get gum out of each other’s hair without cutting it off. We learned that the fastest way to get an orange soda stain out of a white shirt was to scrub the heck out of it with a piece of paper towel and public washroom liquid soap. If it hadn’t been for the support that Jenny and I provided each other, I don’t know how either of us would have survived.
Jenny’s anxiety and insecurity didn’t get as bad as mine did. I no longer speak to her, but she was always solid as a rock. She was, and is still, my inspiration in many ways. She always said what she thought, did what she wanted, stood up for what (and who) she believed in. She never gave a shit what anybody thought and she wasn’t afraid to tell them so. I mean... this is the girl who wold annually just shut up for an entire day -- she would not say a single word for 24 hours -- to support the LGBT community, to help fight for a voice for the voiceless. (NOTE: This vow of silence was pretty huge at the time. Jenny started this tradition when we were in high school. Extra props to her, and to the others I know who were brave enough to go through with it even once... because loudly supporting the LGBT community in a Catholic high school takes some serious guts.)
I wish I could say I had been as brave and strong as Jenny. I wasn’t. Sometimes I still wonder if I am. I let my shell take over my life, for the most part. I made friends, but I stuck to my little group and didn’t ever stray from them. I made my friends in the first semester of the 9th grade, and I didn’t go out of my way to even so much as try to make new ones after that. I had people, and I was comfortable. I still avoided going out, but it wasn’t quite so bad as before. I still got picked on at home though, because I come from a very small town. Things turned 180 degrees. School became my refuge, and home became a problem.
Through all of this, I grew to think that I was the problem. That the mean girls were mean to me because I was too tall, too fat, too thin, too smart, not smart enough, too much of a goody-two-shoes, not pretty enough. I convinced myself that, as a person, I was wrong. I came to dislike myself. I didn’t like looking in a mirror. I started playing with makeup, not because it looked like fun, or because it was “time,” but because I thought I could use it to change the physical aspects of myself that were wrong. I stopped letting people take my picture, except for school photos. I didn’t want any evidence of such a “wrong” person to exist after the fact. I had decided that for the time being, I would have to go on being un-pretty, being imperfect. I would grow up someday and somehow turn pretty, and maybe then I could be perfect. I subscribed to the idea that I couldn’t be pretty and smart at the same time. I had to choose between the two. I guess I picked smart.
In university, I discovered that I am a charismatic person. I am a sweet and kind person, and people find me relatively easy to get along with. I made a number of friends, both in my dorm and in my classes really quickly and easily. I had a real, serious boyfriend for the first time in my life. It was at this point that I have since realized that I was uneasy about being alone. At any given moment, somebody was sending me some form of message. My old high school friends would send me MSN messages and email updates. My new friends and boyfriend would send texts, and sometimes MSN messages. Some message system somewhere was always going off. I felt loved, and popular for the first time in my life. However, when the hours arrived that my messaging systems went quiet, an old feeling crept up on me. Rejection. Sadness. Depression. Isolation. Anxiety. I felt like I was missing out on something. Like all of my friends were probably hanging out together somewhere, laughing and talking about how stupid I was or something.
Ridiculous, right?
Well, to me, that was exactly what was happening. I would spiral into a state of self-loathing. I would get angry with my friends for no reason. As quickly as I had made them, I lost quite a few friends this way. My accusatory tone would set my friends off, and they would become defensive. This would make me accuse them even more. I could not be in a room on my own without anyone contacting me and not end that same day in an argument with someone who had done absolutely nothing wrong, and who had done absolutely nothing to me, personally. I didn’t get why this was happening. I assumed that, in this instance, I was not the problem. I was wrong.
I needed to fix myself. I needed to get my head straightened out. It took me a long time to realize it, but I needed to figure out a way to be happy with myself, and it’s only recently that I can say honestly, and without blinking, that yeah, I like who I am. I spent a long time thinking back over situations, going over my days before I went to bed. Standing in front of a mirror, forcing myself to look at my own face. Picking out the things about myself that I like, instead of picking at the things I dislike. I started leaving my cell phone in my bag when I got home, instead of letting it be attached to my hand. I learned to appreciate quiet. I started reading more, just for the fun of it. I learned to look after myself -- mind, body, and spirit.
Through learning to love myself, and learning to love being by myself, I have learned to care for other people more deeply. I am less judgemental with strangers. I am more welcoming. More approachable. I meet new people often, and I am getting good at making conversation. I’m always going to be a quiet person. Crowds and new people are always going to make me nervous. The trick is to not let the things that scare you run your life. I don’t know you, but you don’t scare me. I’m alone right now, as I write this, and I’m not freaking out. I’m fine. I like myself, and I like being alone. I’m happier and healthier for it, and my relationships with other people are happier and healthier as a result.
The way I see it, if you aren’t okay being on your own, if you freak out when your phone isn’t going off, and nobody’s messaging you on facebook, you need to drop everything and figure out why. Once you figure out why you’re not happy with just yourself, you can set to fixing it. Your friends... your true friends, will support you and love you through it. Your relationships will only improve. You will learn that you are the most important person in your life. You have to love yourself the most of all, before you can learn to love anyone else.
So... to you, be happy. Be healthy. Be alone. Be better than the negative thoughts. Learn to love you, as you are. Be okay going out without makeup on. Be okay dancing with yourself.
Happily Yours,
P.S. I’m sorry this was so disgustingly long. Congratulations if you actually read the whole thing! Here’s a prize:
xoxo
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