Do you believe that we are all individuals? Like, really believe it? Or do you think that maybe, it's more likely that many of us are carefully, calculatedly individuals, having chosen to fit, more or less, into one of many molds of individuality so that we have people with whom we can identify, and friends with whom to "be individual"? So, my type of individual versus your type of individual?
That's how I feel most of the time. I was an outcast at a small school in a small town from the first grade through the eighth grade. When I got to high school, I finally found friends. This is not going to turn into a post about the recent social issue of bullying. I will keep my opinions to myself, but just know that boy, do I have them. No, the point that I'm trying to make (probably mostly for myself) here is that I question whether or not anyone who has been labeled "different" can ever truly escape that. They may become happy, productive, successful, or even famous, but I would argue that they will still go through life struggling against feeling excluded.
The question is whether or not that problem exists merely in their own heads, or in the greater reality, or some combination of both. I know that, for me, it's probably a combination. Even though I spent high school and college with a good group of close friends, and even though I now have a wonderful, loving husband and a moderately successful life, I would say that in the last 10 years or so, making/finding really close friends has become increasingly difficult. Part of that is my (our) fault: we have moved cross-country twice now to further our careers. We have lived and worked in different places, which makes meaningful social interaction difficult, not least of which because most people attach their own dislike of driving to us. We, on the other hand, are more than happy to drive 30 minutes if it means hanging out with fun people doing something we enjoy. But we're weird like that, I guess.
The problem, too, is exacerbated by social media. Yes, I know you've heard this rant before. It's hard hearing about the fun things your group of friends back in [insert state here] is doing that you obviously cannot partake of. But harder still is hearing about something fun that the group of people you sometimes hang out with nearby did that you somehow missed out on. Maybe at age 35 I'm not supposed to care anymore. Oops. Guess my growth is stunted, since it still makes me curl up like a little child and bawl for about 5 minutes (something I actually didn't do much of when I was a child and really was excluded from pretty much everything, actually. I believe in making up for lost time).
I think that the problem starts in one's own head and extends into the greater world. I think that, for me, I spent so long learning how to function on my own, or with a very small group of friends (which I do have, but they live far away, yes, my own fault) that I ... I don't know, give off a vibe? Do people look at me and think "Oh, she doesn't need us"? With my self-esteem I tend to assume that it is more likely people think I am any combination of the following: loud, obnoxious, not funny, uncool, rude, etc. etc. but that doesn't explain why we (my husband and I) both feel very isolated, because he, at least, is the nicest person on the planet, and I don't understand how anyone could not like him. Maybe they have no respect for that guy who puts up with that insufferable woman.
The truth is that my self-confidence isn't actually that bad. More often what I assume is that those other people are merely part of a different "group of individuals," and that I (of course) am the true individual who does not fit in. And thereagain, I think that's something that has come about independent of me. Sam in high school and college prided herself on being different from everyone. She didn't seek it out, exactly ... she just was, and back then that seemed to still gain her friends and admirers. These days, though, adults seem to have different values, and suddenly, Samantha finds herself just wanting to be liked. It's a reversion, actually, back to grade school, when little Sammi (ugh) just wanted to fit in. The difference is that the goals are somewhat at odds. I really like being myself. I'm a work in progress, a practicing human, as I like to say. And I'm fine with what I like, what I think (and what I think about), how I dress, and so on. But I still want to be liked, and have friends who call on a Friday and say "Hey, what are you doing tonight?" or write on my Facebook wall that they're just checking in to see how I'm doing (although at 8 mos. pregnant I am a bit tired of the question "How are you feeling?"), or post a funny picture of something inane we all did last weekend.
I just want to know what I'm doing wrong. Because all we have in our own lives is ourselves, right? We are the constant. Therefore experience would lead us to believe that, if the same thing seems to happen to us over and over again, it must be me, right?
Nobody really likes being alone.
