I remember growing up and talking to myself because no one else would listen. Being so quiet people wondered if I could speak. Most times my consciousness resided in my imagination, with fantasies of the all unattainable. I didn’t dream of superpowers or clouds made of cotton candy. I imagined times where my stuffed animals were people. I’d wish for them to help me make friends and console me when I couldn’t. For them to kiss my wounds and dry my tears. I wished to hear them say they’re proud when I drew our family picture. I held onto this dream, and to me, it became a reality. I took them everywhere I went, from grocery stores to dentist appointments. We sat together on long rides, visits and mediation. They distracted me when there was arguing ear to ear and when the weekends felt too long. I remember tugging on my mothers sweater while holding my stuffed animals; I'd given my tiger a new haircut. Wanting to show her with the big smile on my face, she looked down and to my surprise, she took them. I was far too old, and it was childish, she said. They then became a dream to forget.
I tried to navigate life around me alone, finding a new means to my adventures. Now all my attention had turned to my mom. I showed her all the things I did with them hoping for some sort of reconciliation. It just wasn’t the same. And suddenly now, my drawings weren’t worth mentioning anymore, and my cuts and scrapes bled by themself, and the tears pooled in my eyes. I didn’t understand why she was any different. I was able to go unnoticed; what felt like a recurring theme in my life. Slipping into my imagination fantasizing about what life would be like if I were different. I sought for someone or something, like my animals, to comfort me. I watched as the kids around me got along so easily, and I wondered what it’d be like to have that closeness. I tried to create my own distractions like writing stories or coloring in the hall. There wasn’t a thing I could do to take the feeling of loneliness away.
As a result, I spent my time thinking. My mind wandered but would never shut off. The absence of a distraction created a little voice in my head. Although it was faint it could bring a shock to my chest. It could sting my heart and shatter my confidence. It was easy to compare the lives of others and swap assumptions about those around me. It has always been easier to notice the bad rather than the good, because once you know how to find it you can’t ever miss it.
As I got older my dreams shifted with my age. I had still hoped for comfort. I carried so much love to give but no one to share it with. I met people along the way who I attached too easily. I poured the entirety of myself in them in hopes of validation. The lack of reciprocation made me question my worthiness. I was constantly searching for a filler, a placeholder, anything to keep me from my own thoughts. The silence wasn’t something I was comfortable with. It was driving me wild.
And as the months went by It felt like I was pushed further apart from the world around me. I spent hours staring at walls submerged in my thoughts. I felt paralyzed by my mind in a body I didn’t even feel was my own. It felt like they had a disconnect and most days it seemed like I was watching myself from the outside. I wanted to be invisible. I never knew how to reach out or what to say. And in all honesty I couldn’t even find the words to utter what the matter was. I just always knew there was something. It created a discomfort with who I was. Who was I meant to be? I wondered if I had genuine purpose.
I don’t remember exactly how it went but slowly I began to understand myself. With each new experience, hurtful or not, I learned. Change is hard and so is acception. I had never let go of who I thought I was. Always comparing myself so that I never built my own sense of identity. I used to believe I was simple and humble. Never breaking my patience, never being cruel or falling to the obscenities of the world. It’s taken a lot to recognize that I am not perfect. I am flawed in every direction. I get upset and I shut down and I don’t always do what’s right. I tried so hard to conform and mold into who I used to be, or desired to be. The thing is that it would never of worked. Change is inevitable. It’s only when you let go of the expectation, it’s a lot easier to see the beauty it may bring.
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