Sometimes You Won’t Belong, & That’s Okay

Confession: I’m transferring colleges.

Shhh…don’t tell anybody yet. Only a few people know. But I just had to get that off my chest because I am SO EXCITED about this.

And it’s not that my school now is bad by any means. The professors here are awesome, the campus is gorgeous, the weather is great, the class sizes are super nice, I live in a pretty nice apartment, and those are just a few of the many qualities that drew me into here.

But after two years on this campus, I have to face the tough truth: I don’t belong here.

As noted in some of my other posts, I don’t really have friends here. I mean of course I talk to people in my classes, my roommates, and my teammates, but there is no one on campus I feel truly comfortable stopping by or calling at a random time just because I need to talk. And that deeper connection is something I need. For almost 2 years now I have tried to convince myself that it’s not right to rely on others for my happiness and that I should be satisfied with spending time alone, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that that isn’t the problem. I DON’T depend on others for my emotions. I DON’T mind being alone sometimes. My problem is that I want people to share my life with, and I don’t have that here.

When I returned to campus this January after Winter Break, I was still stuck in the mindset from the previous semester of trying to force my way into friendships that weren’t open for additions. I asked people to hang out with me, study together, and/or grab lunch, and time and time again my offers were ignored. The rejection stung throughout January and February, but then an inkling of a thought managed to make itself noticed in-between my feelings of self-hatred: did I really want to be friends with people who treated me, and perhaps others, that way??

When I allowed this new idea to sink in, it rooted itself in my mind and grew with the expediency of kudzu. One day it was a mere strand, but by the next morning, it encompassed my head like a helmet. No longer would I let myself care that the girls on my team didn’t want to spend time with me. I stopped inviting them to do things, and when I started to feel sad about nobody wanting to be my friend, I let the helmet of my decision deflect the negativity.

What helped cement the notion that this school isn’t the right place for me were weekly trips to home or to my boyfriend’s school because at those places, people treated me like normal. They didn’t talk with a hesitancy that made me feel like a pariah, and they asked if I wanted to join them for random activities. Plus, they even laughed at my jokes! Which, I mean, could definitely be because they saw in my eyes that that’s what I needed, but I’m going to choose to believe that I have at least a sliver of a likable sense of humor!

I know now that my loneliness is not entirely my fault. I am not defective, and I did not push the right people away. The people meant to be in my life are still here, and they will always be with me. The people who have turned their backs on me entered my life for a reason, but their exit was also a lesson to inspire growth. It is impossible to belong everywhere and with everyone. Like magnets, it is natural for us to repel certain forces. I am currently surrounded by forces incompatible with my own, but this is temporary. I am on my way to finding where I belong. And that’s more than okay.

 

“Choose people who choose you.”

The notion seems simple – of course I would surround myself with people who want me! But what about when those people don’t exist? Or rather, when those people aren’t able to be around due to physical distance and/or other obligations?

Loneliness has been one of my closest companions since coming to college. I am in my second year at this university, yet I have no one on campus I feel entirely comfortable calling my best friend. Sure, I have my teammates who I’ve spent countless hours running and traveling to meets with. And I have my current roommates with whom I share a four-bedroom apartment. There are lab partners I’ve met and random people I’ve talked with at campus events, but when I look for someone to turn to, I am left either staring at an abandoned lot or looking back at my reflection.

When I think back to the friendships I’ve had throughout life, it’s difficult for me to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong and the friendship fell apart. I met my first best friend, Dede, when I was four, and we slowly grew apart around the time of third grade because my family had moved away, and playdates were increasingly difficult to schedule. My next best friend, Maisa, lived two houses away from me (when we’re not at college, she still does), and we met in kindergarten. Over the years we remained close until about sophomore year of high school, when she no longer needed to ride the bus, and I quit cheerleading. She had a new group of friends that she spent most of her time with, but we would still occasionally hang out. It always felt natural to tell her everything, but at the heart of it all, we had grown to be two different people, and our lives were no longer entwined.

There have been other people in my life whose friendship expired before I had time to realize there was even an expiration date on it, but I have come to terms with the fact that some people are meant to be in your life only for a moment. Today, my best friends, Mitchell and Emma, are hundreds and thousands of miles away from me, respectively. Mitchell goes to a college that takes three hours by car for me to get to, and Emma attends one that takes three hours by plane. My problem is not that I do not believe myself to be loved. I know that my parents, sister, and best friends care about my existence and happiness, and I know that they would choose to spend time with me if they could.

My problem, as of now at least, is that I struggle to FEEL loved most of the time at college. My school is relatively small, but there are enough people always around that I am seldom entirely alone. In fact, I encounter more people at school on a daily basis than I do while at home. But when I’m sitting on the couch in the house I grew up in, I feel encompassed in love and security, whether I am sitting  by myself or not. In an abstract way, it feels as if I could extend my love outwards from my body, like spokes on a wheel, I would quickly reach someone who was extending their own love back to me. At college however, those same projections feel infinitely long, as if they are continuously searching and meandering for someone to connect with, until they are forced to circle back to me and settle for self-love.

This is not to say that self-love is trivial, for it is anything but. It is perhaps the strongest form of love, and you must love yourself before you can love others. But this empty return of my love feels never-ending. Repeatedly I try to speak to the people around me at school, to inquire about their lives, and listen when they share with me stories of their pasts. I try to exhibit through body language that I am sincerely excited to be spend time with them and to create memories together. I send notes of encouragement when I can, and words of condolence when appropriate. I offer help, and  I offer time.

But it has yet to be enough.

These people I care about show little care back, and after a while, it takes its toll. There is a common phrase that circulates in society about cutting out toxic people in your life. I admire the strength behind that statement, but I also admire that in order to do such a thing, one would have had to accumulated enough people who want to be in their life to begin with. I WANT to “choose people who choose [me]”, yet right now, in all honesty, I would choose people who only chose me temporarily.

I’m not going to give up on trying to make friends here at school, and I recognize that there are lulls in everything in life, including friendships. I know that one day sooner than I think, I will be happy again, and the loneliness that walks with me as closely as my shadow will be more of a memory than a companion. I acknowledge that greater things are yet to come, and that there is truth in the cliche, “everything happens for a reason.” I realize that I cannot control everything in life, especially people, and I see the value in patience. So, for now, I will strive keep my head high, treat people with compassion, and trust the path I follow. I am never alone, and neither are you.