I have abandonment issues. There. I said it. My fear of loss is profound. And it shapes my environment more than I should allow. It started as a child, perhaps some would call them typical "Daddy issues" but I think perhaps my anxiety does not come from having a sub-par parent. I could recall my life story and all its losses and it would not read much different from anyone elses crosses to bear. I've known betrayal and heartbreak. I've known the loss of a child before its been born. I've lost friends after 16 years of solidarity. I can't quite say if there was a defining moment that I knew I was afraid of loss or if the years went by and I adapted my emotions to accommodate the fear. I was never really aware of what it was exactly, only that I used to panic if I exchanged cross words with friends. I avoided confrontation, and in the process allowed myself to become the sort of person who allowed people to disrespect me and walk all over me. I did not begin things, because I feared the end. I did not see that losing certain things, certain people were a natural part of progression. We do not end our lives with exactly the same people we begin it with. If we are lucky we forge long lasting relationships that stand the test of time and circumstance. But I have come to learn that not every character survives to the next chapter of the book. A massive part of learning to be happy has been learning to accept loss in all its forms. Which, invariably, is easier said than done.
Loneliness is real. It is why we stay when we should go. Why we put up with things we don't deserve. Why we crave what we don't have. There's this picture of the way things should be. Its different for each of us. And we strive to have the picture complete. Popularity is a myth, and crowds are where we all gather to be lonely together. There is no escape if loneliness is within, It eats away, bite by bite. I always greet people with the idea that they wont like me until they get to know me. And even then, it may be a push. And no matter how often I'm told I am liked or accepted I wont believe it. I have memories of people who would make excuses to not spend time with me on occasion, but they would happily welcome me into their company on others. People who would talk about things they had done, with a cautionary "you should have been there" thrown in at the end of the story. It's strange the things which remain with you. The more my adult self thinks about these things, the more I realise I have never really been able to fit myself into any one group, and remain there comfortably. I was not wanted, not needed. Not welcome. But if I said the right thing, did the right thing, then I was welcomed with open arms. Monsters don't live under the bed. They live within us, each time we tell someone "you should have been there" when an invitation was never offered. Each time we take offence at something which was said, and walk away without a backward glance. The older I get, the more I avoid people.
And that's ok. It's ok to not be part of a massive group of people. It's ok to be whoever you are and not be accepted. It's ok to be lonely. It's all ok, every stinking last part of it. Every night you spend going over the things which came out of your mouth which might have been taken the wrong way. Every time you've been made to feel as if you're not wanted, not required. Because if people are going to leave, there's a door that they walk out of. That's theirs to open, and theirs to close and whatever is on the other side of it is theirs and theirs alone. You have no right to that door. Your door is on the other side of the room, the opposite direction. And nobody else has access to it. Sometimes you have to keep going through open doors, and don't worry about who might leave you. Be the one to leave them behind. Be a candle that snuffs out the light. Burn for a while, and then take on the breeze.
Stay with me.
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