I Always Wondered Why I Had No Friends, And Then I Realized The Common Denominator Was Me
retoncy | ShutterstockWhat am I doing here? I struggle to find a purpose and meaning behind the pain because the pain never seems to stop. People preach this notion of "it gets better," like the concept is something new. I have heard those promises before, don’t you know?
My tolerance and strength are not limitless. I am only human; I bleed, just like you — the most intense pain coming not from another person, but rather from myself. My own self-hatred and sabotage are begging for somebody to control my every move. To break me down and build me up.
I need to feel the chaos to feel alive, but sometimes it is just too much. Too much. That pretty much sums up how I feel about my feelings. Overwhelmed, how can I explain something I don’t comprehend?
I am learning to understand myself, to talk about the demons in a way that doesn’t make me sound crazy.
I always wondered why I had no friends, and then I realized it was me
Marissa Grootes / Unsplash
I'm the black sheep and always have been
How much easier would life be and how many more friends would I have if I just shut my mouth and acted like they wanted me to: perfect daughter, perfect sister, perfect friend?
If I just gave up on my aspirations and the things I want out of life, just to make them happy. How hard is it to be a sheep?
My friends and family never tried to understand me. They never wanted to be who I needed, yet were always expecting that from me. They wanted a different person entirely, one to their liking, and I just wanted to be myself, yet still be loved by them. Was that really too much to ask for?
I never fit in at home, finding comfort only on the pages of books or hidden away in my diaries. It was then and there that the darkness began, the festering feelings of discontent and self-hatred. I was different, odd.
Everybody eventually noticed it in small ways, but me — I felt it constantly. It was so embarrassing. The lack of control; the never-ending desire to be in control of everything.
My childhood was extremely lonely; a majority of it was spent doing what I thought would make me seem normal to those around me.
Going to school was my oasis because I could be whoever I wanted to be — and I was smart, athletic, and funny. Maybe I wasn’t actually popular, but I loved being able to escape my house for a world of books and possibilities.
My friendships were never deep, and they never seemed to be what I needed
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I found that the company I enjoyed the most was my own, and as a child, that made me a “good girl”. Being soft-spoken, observant, and in my own world was considered obedient and respectful.
As I grow older, I think about these things. But as a child, my mind was not thinking about how terrible my parents were. No, not really. I was thinking about how much I hated myself for their disapproval.
It has become so painful for me to look back on how badly I hurt myself, how badly they allowed me to inflict pain in every imaginable way on my body without anybody noticing. How did nobody notice?
Emily Lingenfelser is a writer, teen mom, and thyroid cancer survivor who uses personal essays to make sense of a life that rarely went according to plan.
