For the majority of my life, I can remember feeling like the lesser friend. It didn't matter which group of friends I was with or how many of us there were. I just always felt like I was the one who was just kind of there, that I was never anyone's best friend, no one ever talked about me being inseparable from someone. The earliest I remember this was with my younger cousin. I remember being so jealous of the friendship she had with a girl about my age who lived in her neighborhood. I would feel so left out, even though my cousin and I were still close and had a lot in common. I was basically in the same class with the same group of kids from third through eighth grade, and even then, I only got that "best friend" feeling for brief periods of time with different people at different times. In high school, my group of friends changed from year to year, maybe even trimester to trimester. (No, I wasn't pregnant. My school had trimesters.) Maybe that is normal, I don't know, but it didn't seem that way to me. It seemed like everywhere around me, everyone had that best friend who was always #1 on Myspace, always in their profile picture, always passing them notes. But not me.
I remember expressing this feeling of being the "extra" friend to the group of friends I had gotten close to my senior year of high school. I was assured that this wasn't true, but the feeling never went away. I got to college, and it was much the same. I had friends, but I never grew particularly close to anyone. If I developed a bond with people, it was because they caught the fire I was spreading with my theatre camp, and they shared my passion, and they wanted to be a part of that. It was the glue that bound us.
Once I left school, once my camp fell through, once I was spending every day working and every weekend relaxing, I lost touch with almost everyone. I threw myself back into my community theatre, and I made some friends there and strengthened my friendship with Vanessa, who had been the closest thing to a true best friend that I had ever had. Then things at the theatre went to hell in a handbag. I put in a lot of work that, by all rights, I should have been paid for because of my degree and experience, but I never asked for money. I just volunteered, and in return, all I got was criticism. Even people I considered good friends, people I had trusted to work along side me on production teams, would say terrible things about me and think I wouldn't hear about them, but I always did. Then I was disrespected in an unbearable way. I was called a liar and basically accused of sabotaging my best friend's show, and I couldn't stand for that. I wouldn't allow my integrity to be dragged through the mud. I severed all ties to theatre, and in doing so, it felt like I lost Vanessa's friendship. Maybe I didn't. Maybe life just pulled us apart like it does for so many people, but it feels like that was the moment that did it.
My heart was broken. It's probably still broken. I haven't been able to bring myself to get back into theatre since then. My spirit and passion for that beautiful art form have been crushed.
I did not realize how much of my social life revolved around theatre until I left that world. For awhile, it was supplemented by working in retail with a great group of women who made me feel like they cared, like they were interested in my life. Then I decided I just couldn't work in retail anymore because there were parts of the job that I couldn't deal with. (When you have a heart for the not-for-profit world, it can be hard to reconcile the pressure to make sales and open credit cards.) Now I go to work every day in an office. I put in my headphones and listen to audiobooks. I review files and make sure people are following all the rules they need to follow. I eat my lunch at my desk. The people I work with have been kind and welcoming and social, but I don't imagine myself developing a close relationship with them.
I don't imagine myself developing a close relationship with anyone.
I have no social life. Most days, I talk more to my dog than I do to humans. I don't remember the last time I went out with friends, the last time I had a conversation with a friend who I haven't dated at one time or another. I haven't dated someone for longer than a month in a solid 3 years at least. I don't develop emotional attachments to people anymore, friends or otherwise. I could talk, tell them anything they want to know about my darkest secrets or greatest triumphs, and I still wouldn't feel that strong, best friend type of connection to them. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know if this is what it's like to be an adult or if this is depression or if it is some weird fear of connecting with people.
People will tell me to go out and find people with common interests, which is a great idea, except that for most of my teenage and adult life, my only interest has been theatre, and now that is broken. So what do I do? Go to social events for people who love their dog? Are there social groups for people who like to watch reruns of Supernatural every night or who can't be bothered to put away their clean clothes? Maybe there is a meeting for people who have moved so many times they no longer bother to unpack their boxes?
I don't know. All I know is that sometimes, the loneliness of my solitude is an ache in my soul, and this is one of those times.
I remember expressing this feeling of being the "extra" friend to the group of friends I had gotten close to my senior year of high school. I was assured that this wasn't true, but the feeling never went away. I got to college, and it was much the same. I had friends, but I never grew particularly close to anyone. If I developed a bond with people, it was because they caught the fire I was spreading with my theatre camp, and they shared my passion, and they wanted to be a part of that. It was the glue that bound us.
Once I left school, once my camp fell through, once I was spending every day working and every weekend relaxing, I lost touch with almost everyone. I threw myself back into my community theatre, and I made some friends there and strengthened my friendship with Vanessa, who had been the closest thing to a true best friend that I had ever had. Then things at the theatre went to hell in a handbag. I put in a lot of work that, by all rights, I should have been paid for because of my degree and experience, but I never asked for money. I just volunteered, and in return, all I got was criticism. Even people I considered good friends, people I had trusted to work along side me on production teams, would say terrible things about me and think I wouldn't hear about them, but I always did. Then I was disrespected in an unbearable way. I was called a liar and basically accused of sabotaging my best friend's show, and I couldn't stand for that. I wouldn't allow my integrity to be dragged through the mud. I severed all ties to theatre, and in doing so, it felt like I lost Vanessa's friendship. Maybe I didn't. Maybe life just pulled us apart like it does for so many people, but it feels like that was the moment that did it.
My heart was broken. It's probably still broken. I haven't been able to bring myself to get back into theatre since then. My spirit and passion for that beautiful art form have been crushed.
I did not realize how much of my social life revolved around theatre until I left that world. For awhile, it was supplemented by working in retail with a great group of women who made me feel like they cared, like they were interested in my life. Then I decided I just couldn't work in retail anymore because there were parts of the job that I couldn't deal with. (When you have a heart for the not-for-profit world, it can be hard to reconcile the pressure to make sales and open credit cards.) Now I go to work every day in an office. I put in my headphones and listen to audiobooks. I review files and make sure people are following all the rules they need to follow. I eat my lunch at my desk. The people I work with have been kind and welcoming and social, but I don't imagine myself developing a close relationship with them.
I don't imagine myself developing a close relationship with anyone.
I have no social life. Most days, I talk more to my dog than I do to humans. I don't remember the last time I went out with friends, the last time I had a conversation with a friend who I haven't dated at one time or another. I haven't dated someone for longer than a month in a solid 3 years at least. I don't develop emotional attachments to people anymore, friends or otherwise. I could talk, tell them anything they want to know about my darkest secrets or greatest triumphs, and I still wouldn't feel that strong, best friend type of connection to them. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know if this is what it's like to be an adult or if this is depression or if it is some weird fear of connecting with people.
People will tell me to go out and find people with common interests, which is a great idea, except that for most of my teenage and adult life, my only interest has been theatre, and now that is broken. So what do I do? Go to social events for people who love their dog? Are there social groups for people who like to watch reruns of Supernatural every night or who can't be bothered to put away their clean clothes? Maybe there is a meeting for people who have moved so many times they no longer bother to unpack their boxes?
I don't know. All I know is that sometimes, the loneliness of my solitude is an ache in my soul, and this is one of those times.
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