I am a loner at heart. I like people but I do not make friends easily and that bothers me to no end. I am afraid that I will be hurt, laughed at or ignored so I tend to hang back at the fringes of the group. I want to be friendly, to make a connection but I don't have the words. I don't know what to say or how to say it.
If I am lucky enough to make a connection I will be a loyal friend. I may not always call, social anxiety still affects me. But I will be there for you if you ever need me.
This has always bothered me but I have accepted it as fact. I am not meant to have a lot of friends. I am meant to be a lone reed, if you will.
And it really doesn't bother me. The friends I have I will cherish forever.
But then there are days, days like today, where I would give anything to have that ability to converse easily. To make friends that I can call at any time for any reason. To have that person close by (because I do have those friends who live far, far away) that I can call when times get tough. Someone to say come over, I am here for you.
Things have been rough with Bunny. We are going through a growing phase. She is testing me and I feel like I am failing. I know so many others have faced these problems. But I don't have that access to them. I don't have anyone to call and say how did you handle this.
My friends who have children do not live here. They are not SAHMs. We are not going through the same things at the same time.
And so I flounder. I try and I fail. And then I try some more. I have some success and then more failure. I cry and I laugh and then I cry some more.
I want to have the personal connection. The ability to connect with someone, to commiserate, to share stories. But I am awkward. I am all angles and sharp edges. My pieces do not fit in easily to the communal puzzle. I know that if I could just shave an edge off, I would fit in. But I don't know how. So I sit on the edges, a piece belonging to a different puzzle long lost. If there were a land of misfit toys, I would be there. The elf who wants to be a dentist, a train with square wheels, a cowboy who rides an ostrich.
And I get mad at myself for this. Its my fault. If only I could be less like myself, I could have what I want. I could have that friendship, I could be less alone.
And I know its true. How would you know how lonely and afraid I am? How would you know how much I want a friend? How would you know unless my tounge could speak the words only my fingers can say?
So every day I say, today I will try. Today I will make a connection. And every day I fail, I remain quiet. Every day my fingers type the words I cannot say.
(I worry about hitting publish here. Should I say this? I am lonley but not alone. I have support from my husband and from my family. I just miss having friends around who know what is going on. I will get through this. I will survive. And maybe just maybe I will make a new friend . . . someday.)