Beyond the Playground

Like most individuals, going to college was good for me. I was able to branch out and meet people I never otherwise would have been introduced to. I was faced with incredible opportunities that were dependent on my location. I learned lessons and grew as a person about a million times over (and still, of course, have about fifteen million more growth spurts left…give or take).

But the one interesting part about my experience thus far in “adulthood” (I use quotes because I have not yet entered real post-grad-work-force adulthood yet) has been the friendships.

When I was little I moved around a lot. By the time I was 10 I had been to 3 different schools and didn’t keep in contact with any of the friends I had made, as I notably wasn’t allowed to give out my contact information. I would attend a school, grow close to someone or a couple people, then be ripped away from them— never to see or hear from them again. That did a number on my abandonment issues for sure. But adult Alli is working through that, fear not.

Don’t quote me on this because I’m not a child psychologist by any means, but those years are crucial for forming foundational friendship skills and the ability to navigate healthy relationships with your peers. Early adolescence is all about learning other people and how to be human with other humans.

So cut to later on, after I had officially settled into my third and final school.

I quickly found I had a hard time connecting with classmates. Yes, I was liked. But I never felt connected. This is something I can remember feeling as far back as fifth grade.

You see, in addition to having moved around statistically more than normal- I wasn’t allowed to go over to people’s houses, have anyone visit my house, hang out after school…nothing. It was home, school, home, repeat- every day. My peers, on the other hand, were having sleepovers (wasn’t allowed), going to parties (wasn’t allowed), and going on after-school adventures (you guessed it— wasn’t allowed). I couldn’t even go on academic field trips.

When you’re raised to essentially be socially stunted, the effects creep up from nowhere.

At the time it was simply feeling left out. Sad, yes. But so be it. You get over that- you’re little and don’t understand the full scope. But like essentially all things, it comes back to bite you. I’ll come back to this.

Now fast forward to adulthood, where I’m currently still healing from having little connections.

When you’re an adult who didn’t make those bountiful friendships in childhood, you’re essentially forced to watch others create deep, meaningful connections as you get older. Not only that, but you watch them as if through a window- unable to do much else besides stare out, feeling as though you’re missing some sort of puzzle piece that everyone else seemingly has. You never really learned how to form friendships with the ease that comes with making friends when you’re a kid.

Note: I would like to point out I understand making friends is infinitely harder as an adult to begin with and this is not some new concept I discovered. But the base level of difficulty is higher without the experiences of a normal, social childhood.

As I got older I realized more and more I have a hard time feeling connected. Yes, I consider myself likable. This is to say, I think people like me. But I have this strong sense of doubt surrounding it despite no reason for thinking such a thing (doubter by nature— what can I say?). If I had to guess, amongst other things (everything is nuanced, we all know this by now), this doubt probably comes from that same lack of deep connection I feel with others.

I could be surrounded by individuals who all show me in some capacity a general sense of caring, but it’s as though I’m on the other side of a long tunnel, listening hard to what they’re saying but not getting it in its entirety.

Invisibility in childhood translated into forgetting I’m not in adulthood.

This is part of the reason I function alone on my day-to-day. I live alone (I shouldn’t broadcast that on the internet, huh?), go out alone, eat alone, everything. And I like it- I do. But I can’t help but wonder if my own childhood pattern of not having the same structural network as everyone else contributed to my current-day default of being by myself. And if so does that mean I truly want to be and enjoy being alone, or have I just been conditioned to a lifelong idea that solitude is my only option because it’s all I ever really had? These are questions for therapy.

But as you get older and start to become more self aware, you ask questions.

Why don’t connections come as easy to me as they seem to come for others?

Why do I feel so disconnected?

Do other people feel this way?

Is there something wrong with me?

And the obvious answer is of COURSE not. You aren’t flawed because of traits formed beyond your control when you were a kid. I mean, that’s ridiculous.

But regardless of the answer, these questions are all valid to feel when you’re consistently met with the same lack of feeling sound in friendships.

Trauma has a silly way of making you develop differently. You don’t learn to socialize in the same healthy and normal manner as other kids, and so naturally that’s (I’m assuming here) perceptible to other kids. At least in my experience it felt that way. And it’s not just forming friendships that are affected by this- it’s self esteem, boundaries, the feeling, or lack thereof, of belonging.

Earlier I mentioned I would get back to “just feeling left out” when you’re little. Let’s dive into that kiddie pool.

Feeling consistently on the outskirts of social depth led me to now have a terrible case of the FOMOs (fear of missing out). I will bend my schedule backwards to be able to join an activity, even if it’s not something I want to do deep down. Simply because I felt so invisible growing up that I want to avoid feeling that detached ever again. Lately I’ve been making a point to put FOMO aside and genuinely analyze if I want to do something, which has helped. It also has been helping with my lack-of-setting-boundaries issue. But that’s another beast.

With all of that being said, I have a handful of deeply connected friends that I would truly do anything for. I’m beyond lucky. But the tricky part of the whole “I’m a kid and I feel a million miles away from normalcy” fiasco is this weird, unwarranted blip of “they don’t like you” every once in a while. I know— Buzzkill Alert! Womp Womp. But it’s the truth. And I know anyone who gets it...gets it. Rationally, I know it’s baseless. They show me in their words and actions that I’m intensely loved. It’s just that inner observer from the smallest version of me projecting what she was used to feeling. My inner saboteur, if you will. To which I would respond… girl shut up, that’s so rude.

Reassurance does wonders for thoughts like these though. In any shape or form, of course, because we’re all different. But I find taking a step back and just looking at the love they make me feel does the trick.

The tricky part (let’s be real, it’s all the tricky part) is entering friendships as you get older. You might find yourself settling into friendships where you aren’t treated as beautifully as you should be. You deal with a lack of empathy or boundaries. Critical judgement. And my favorite- unreciprocated effort. You put up with all of this because you never got the consistent top tier friend experience that other kids got in their established networks. Especially in cases when home wasn’t exactly a reflection of light and love. So you sit tight and buckle into the substandard friendship bus, just content with the idea of finally being invited on the bus.

There’s also the subconscious worry of how much “yourself” to be, because it didn’t feel accepted when you were little. The equivalent of constantly being on the outside of an inside joke.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve reminded myself that this simply means this person is not for me. And that’s okay! There is no pressure on connection. You meet a million people in your lifetime and if not this person then surely the next, right?

Recently I learned about toxic shame. It’s the belief that you’re worthless because of consistent treatment you face that reinforces this belief. It’s a terrible, terrible cycle. “I get treated like I’m worthless, therefore I am deserving of it because this is what I’m experiencing.” Friendships with your peers can feed this cycle, among other things. If your friends show you no kindness, eventually you’ll believe you simply deserve that rather than opening your eyes to the fact that A. those are bad friends and B. you absolutely don’t deserve that.

But feeling invisible never necessarily went completely away for me. I just learned to avoid people who make me feel as such. Overcoming that toxic shame. Would you rather the superficial company of those who look beyond you, or the company of yourself who sees you in your entirety and still chooses to wake up with you every day? I, for one, don’t enjoy company for the sake of company. If you feel like you blend into the background when you’re surrounded by certain people (and it’s a genuine and warranted feeling backed by others’ actions), step away. And while it took me a while, I’m comfortable with myself enough to enjoy the time I spend alone. But this is, as you can imagine, an uphill battle for many people. An ongoing one for myself still on ocassion.

And when you learn to enjoy the company of yourself, it opens the door to more fulfilling relationships of all natures because your expectations for what you know you deserve are healthier.

Making decisions like who to keep and who to let go of is incredibly difficult. Especially when you’ve been molded to your core to be a people pleaser. But you have to do it for the little version of you who lives inside of you. The smallest human being who couldn’t speak up for themselves and instead accepted what was, without a say for what was to be.

I do it for the little Alli that lives inside me.

All of this is not to say I don’t know how to interact with other human beings. I do and I enjoy it. I find speaking to people to be one of the coolest aspects of being human and living the rockin’ human experience. Rather, it’s to communicate an unspoken side to being a lonely kid. It’s to give a microphone to myself and pour out in honest color.

To hope this connected to someone feels selfish, but to wish I made someone feel seen is the goal. Thank you for sticking around.

You’re so loved.

Xoxo,

Alli