Processing Friendship: Examining My Part

To read the previous installment in this series, click here. 

I had a boyfriend when I met my husband. My boyfriend was not present when we met, and it didn't occur to me to disclose to this new young man that I had a boyfriend. I wasn't trying to be dishonest, but it didn't naturally come up in conversation and I had no idea that Michael liked me as anything other than a friend. 

Michael discovered that I had a boyfriend when he told his friend (my boyfriend) about meeting me, and my boyfriend made the revelation.

I was shocked every time I found out that a boy liked me, because I tend to assume people don't. To varying levels, I dreaded having to interact with the boys I dated because I was terrified that they were going to discover that I wasn't worth dating. 

It generally does not occur to me that someone would want to talk to me or that my presence or viewpoint might be valuable. I assume that I will be in the way or a nuisance. I see myself as weird. As a preteen and teen, I liked weird things. I was a hipster about 10 years before being one was cool. I liked music that other people my age thought was weird. I enjoyed movies and books that nobody else I knew was watching and reading. I never liked cartoons. 

In the absence of relationships, I attached myself to celebrities/historical figures (Princess Diana, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Elvis Presley, the Beatles) and music. I didn't have the resources to wear clothes I felt good in. I wore what was available to me, and my clothes were not reflective of current styles. I didn't wear pants so I stuck out at school. All of this labeled me as weird in my own mind. I always felt "other" at home too. Generally speaking, it didn't feel as though anyone had ever really liked me. 

As I realized that the manipulative tactics I had grown up using were not effective, I switched tactics. Eventually, I settled on staying out of people's way. I take up as little space in people's lives as I can. I don't insert myself into other people's lives. I stay in the shadows, hoping to be invited in. I process the non-invitations as rejection.

I don't call people because I assume it would bother them if I did. I don't invite people over, because I assume they would rather not come. I don't start conversations because I assume people would rather be talking to someone else. 

I take up as little mental space as possible, and my body takes up a lot more space than it should. The irony is not lost on me. I believe these two issues are related. 

A few years ago I was diagnosed with ADHD. This revelation was like a light switch being turned on for me. It turns out, a lot of people with ADHD also have something called Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (Shout out to my friend Kim for bringing this to my attention.) What this looks like for me is constantly being on the look out for signs that I am being rejected and then responding with intense pain when I find them. 

So cliques at church feel like big, flashing signs that say "stay out, loser!!" Pictures on social media of other people I know hanging out with each other feels like someone saying "we didn't invite you because we hate you!"

Healing my relationship with friendship, and myself, is going to look like being able to take up space in people's lives and in rooms I am in, and telling myself the truth when I believe the lies that my brain is telling me. 

I can't control other people. I can't make them include me or enjoy my company. I am the only person I can control, and truthfully, more than anyone else has excluded me, I think I've excluded myself. 

To be continued . . .