Does the feeling that I don't know who I am and that no one understands just come with being in the early 20's? Is that all it is? Something you leave behind once you turn 25? Or is this feeling I have a product of losing someone at a young age, of having to be someone else for my parents instead of who I really was, and being unsure around others? Is it both? Does everybody feel this way at 22 because of our own personal ghosts?
Sometimes, it's frustrating that apparently everybody goes through this stage. I'm not sure if it's because I honestly want to struggle with this alone or that I think other people can't relate to my situation and it bugs me when they try. I don't know.
I do know that I feel alone, even when I'm surrounded by people I once called friends. I know that I'm easily angered and often catty when I have to be around certain individuals for any length of time. I know I have very violent thoughts I never act on. I know I sometimes want to just disappear and start all over again.
I want somebody to talk to. I want someone to understand what I'm trying to say, even when I can't say it. I want someone who will help me process.
It's probably time I went back to counseling.
Except I don't know what to say. I have no idea who I am or why I'm here. I have no long-term goals; I'm content to check out library books every two weeks, fill my time with house cleaning, work, and watching t.v., and I'm happy to be without friends.
Most of the time.
I don't feel as abnormal as Dexter; I don't think I'm of unsound mind...completely.
It's just that...I miss out on a lot of social cues. I don't look people in the eye when I talk. I want more out of friendship than movie nights and the occasional small talk. I like wearing 3 piece suits. A lot.
Does the fact that I recognize these things about myself mean I'm not completely an outcast? I can recognize these things and change them to be more "normal"?
I just don't know who I am. So many people have wanted me to be so many different things that I don't know what the real pieces are. I try to fit in so that people will like me and so I will be accepted, because all I've ever really wanted was to be in a family that accepted me like I was, and the ability to do what I wanted. Even if it was to just curl up on the window seat and read for an afternoon.
I've never found that and as the years go by it looks less likely that there is something like that possible this side of heaven.
I'm a lot more like other people than I think...I think. But not being able to share my thoughts with someone makes it difficult to see that.
I don't know where to go from here.
I feel lost. Alone. But I know I'm not unloved.
At this point, that's the only thing that keeps me going.
It's enough.
It is pretty sad that people are so demanding of a good excuse to get together. I guess it didn't bother me at first because for most of my life I didn't even get invited to the superficial gatherings, but I'm no longer so socially desperate that I'm starting to notice that there's nothing I can do that would make people want to gather round and schmooze. I think for awhile when I came to college I secretly wished that I could pick and choose a group of friends who liked me and liked each other. Obviously that never happened and I managed to insert myself into various cliques if they'd have me. I've given up on forming a cult of neon-clad supernova worshippers that drive around listening to trance music. I don't have a good solution. But I agree with you. How come people are limited to hanging out to watch other fictional people live more exciting lives?
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this Kaitlin. I'm pretty sure this is different than what you're going through, but I want to share it with you anyway. Two nights ago I got to that point that I'm sure every married person experiences some time or another where I felt as though Edwin did not actually love me, where I felt as though the person I am with for the rest of my life is not who I thought he was. And when I got there, in the middle of being miserable, I discovered that it was ok, that I have a source of love that comes from outside of our relationship pouring into me, keeping me in a place where I can give to Edwin instead of only wanting to take from him. Do you remember the year I was at CIU when Allen Levi came to sing at chapel? And he had that one song that says "I'm a man who never married, but I have love to give away." I think of that song a lot, and I think it applies to the married as well as the unmarried. You ARE loved! And so am I! We are both loved so much that we have all this extra love pouring out of us that we can direct towards other people. And today Edwin and I talked, and I now feel that he loves me in a deeper way than I thought before, and I know how to love him better too.
ReplyDeleteI miss you, I miss talking about TV and movies and books with you. I'm so glad whenever I get to read your blog and hear what's going on in your life.
Love,
Elanor
@ Abbie - I think one of the reasons people are like they are is a line from Eve Redeemed - people are afraid of the silence. So, we all get together to listen to noise.
ReplyDeleteAnytime you want to come over and hang out and talk or be silent and craft...you're invited. :)
The sad thing about wanting a group of friends who like to do things besides sitting on the couch and actually like each other is that I had friends like that once. It's worse knowing that it's somewhat possible. [Although they were a few - just 3 or 4 - you won't find a lot of people really like that]
@ Elanor: Thank you for sharing this - I wish we lived closer [or that I actually talked on the phone HAHA] so we could just sit and talk like this. I find that when I feel something and Stu manages to drag it out of me, it turns into a great conversation and we move one step deeper into our relationship with each other. I just wish I was a better dancer. ;) It comes with time, I'm thinking.
Love to you both.