Alone, Together
I took a little trip with 7 girls that I didn’t know.
College reinforced my loner lifestyle. I didn’t know anyone despite going to school in my hometown. It was a PWI, tucked into the upper-middle-class suburbs of my city; hidden away from those without the golden ticket. Somehow through the turbulence of high school, I got one. A little sweet mixed in with the bitter. The money was really what swept me off my feet; a confirmation that I’d worked hard enough to win.
It started like a dream. I finally I had a group of friends, something I hadn’t experienced since kindergarten: all alike because we were alone and lonely in this new place. Eventually, the factions would form barbies and jocks, greeks and academics, special interest groups and worker bees, the black elite, weirdos and chameleons. You fall in line with those most like you, or maybe those unlike you. The Real Her, at least in college, is probably a mix of both. Unless you have no idea about this game like I hadn’t. I had no clue that I had to pick a side. I quickly obtain the moniker of ‘bitch.’ I didn’t want to play nice just for the sake of belonging. I had gone on too long subsisting under my own umbrella to want to 2-step shuffle to get under someone else’s. As a result, I was blacklisted, and labeled as the toy that didn’t fit in the toy chest. I was left out socially, at first because of petty drama, but eventually out of some mis-imagined sense that I was too good for whatever group belong “they” wanted to ascribe. I just wanted to be, without the labeling. I wasn’t so good at communicating this, so I pissed a lot of people off.
The short of it is that I got caught in the crossfire of a game I never knew I had to play. Granted my ‘fuck you’ attitude probably made it much harder for anyone else to reach me. I got stung and I wanted everyone to know that their compliance had brought me to this angry, solitary place of distrust and bitterness. I felt it was absurd, the in-fighting among people of color. “What can’t we all just get along?” I learned that we weren’t all fighting on the same team. At the time, I kept thinking someone else would come to their senses, someone must know how crazy this all is, someone must know, someone will come. They didn’t and so my frustration and eventual disengagement from the community spread not only to those who had fired on me but to the bystanders too. I was so consumed by the feeling of me versus the world that I perceived anyone and everyone to be complicit in my hurt feelings.
I was wrong. The all-consuming drama stole my ability to even seek perspective beyond myself. I was so intent on making everyone aware that I wasn’t game, that I forgot to rise above the whole silliness to search for other people who hadn’t ascribed themselves to the whole social system.
Once I was able to emerge from the hole I’d dug myself into, I realized my reaction had fueled imaginary drama with people who were completely unaware. My paranoia and assumptions had alienated me. The post-graduate clarity was enlightening. The more I talked about the whole thing, the more I realized how foolish I had been. In this acceptance, I finally stopped avoiding my former peers and instead embraced the opportunity to confront my former self.
It was productive. I repaired some relationships and build some anew. I was delighted to step outside of my old angry shadow. In an amazing feat, I was able to move beyond the door that had closed me off from allies. In this space, I met the bride. Unbeknownst to her, this new friend, the bride had been a part of an ushering in of a new me. A more lively me. Friendly. Open. Capable, even in my loneliness.
This connection was meaningful enough for me to be brought into the fold. I met even more women who had known me at my angriest. To my delight, I was extending an opportunity with 7 of these girls. I accepted without dwelling on the potentiality of drama or how former perceptions would impact my experiences. I was so open and free, rightfully so. My openness was met with nothing but more of the same. My idea of these girls from college now seems so ludicrous, being with them in this foreign space was earth-shattering in so many ways, I was forced to move out of my own way and just be.
One of the things that can be most frustrating about being alone is that your refuge is in your head. You go through these ridiculous loops with yourself. It’s almost a form of insecurity, eating you from the inside out. You are hyper-aware of yourself when you’re alone–more of that me against the world mentality that turns your sound reasoning into mush. Fortunately, I was able to release a little bit of that paranoia for long enough to get a bit of hope for the future.
