"I am bad at being fun."
That has been my negative narrative, if you will, for quite some time. I don't party, I don't get drunk, and I'm not super social. Things like loud music or inviting someone over or laughing too hard make me anxious. Something must be wrong with me, I guess.
I am also quiet. Yes, quietness is a part of who I am, and I accept that God made me more of a thinker and less of a speaker. But I'm still learning how to let go of the view that my quietness is a bad thing. The world has taught me that quiet people are boring or weird or forgettable. Some of my timidity, I'll admit, is just fear. Sometimes I squander statements because I am fearful of the response (or lack thereof) that I will receive. Sometimes I won't talk to people because of an unexplainable divide I feel between me and the rest of the world.
Somehow these thoughts of being "not fun" and quiet are colliding into something my mom said to me tonight. It's a Friday night and I have nothing planned and no one to see, as usual. Sometimes I am really bothered by that, and other times I am not (I mean, I'm an introvert! I like being by myself). But what bothers me most is that I feel like I don't have much of a choice in the matter. If I want to go out with friends, I can't because there is no one to go with! Now I'm not trying to sound all "woe is me," but that's just how my social circle has been at home. I have one or two people I could reach out to, but it would be out of the blue and different than just being around someone you're truly comfortable with.
Anyways, back to what my Mom said. She tells me what she'll be up to tonight and where my Dad is and who my brothers are with. And I'm alone. She said:
That has been my negative narrative, if you will, for quite some time. I don't party, I don't get drunk, and I'm not super social. Things like loud music or inviting someone over or laughing too hard make me anxious. Something must be wrong with me, I guess.
I am also quiet. Yes, quietness is a part of who I am, and I accept that God made me more of a thinker and less of a speaker. But I'm still learning how to let go of the view that my quietness is a bad thing. The world has taught me that quiet people are boring or weird or forgettable. Some of my timidity, I'll admit, is just fear. Sometimes I squander statements because I am fearful of the response (or lack thereof) that I will receive. Sometimes I won't talk to people because of an unexplainable divide I feel between me and the rest of the world.
Somehow these thoughts of being "not fun" and quiet are colliding into something my mom said to me tonight. It's a Friday night and I have nothing planned and no one to see, as usual. Sometimes I am really bothered by that, and other times I am not (I mean, I'm an introvert! I like being by myself). But what bothers me most is that I feel like I don't have much of a choice in the matter. If I want to go out with friends, I can't because there is no one to go with! Now I'm not trying to sound all "woe is me," but that's just how my social circle has been at home. I have one or two people I could reach out to, but it would be out of the blue and different than just being around someone you're truly comfortable with.
Anyways, back to what my Mom said. She tells me what she'll be up to tonight and where my Dad is and who my brothers are with. And I'm alone. She said:
“It makes me sad sometimes that you don’t have plans because no one gets to enjoy you and your sweetness.”
Yup. That pushed on the bruise. It's both a good and bad place to be in: having enough respect for yourself to believe people might like being around you, but not enough to actually go out and get it.
I sometimes am so confused as to why I am alone when it feels like I could be filling my life with good things like friendship and joy. But actually taking the actions to live that life is terrifying. Talking to people and letting myself be weird and going to new places is scary and sends my mind into a spin of overthinking.
I believe that I am beautiful in my appearance (I don’t always believe that, but generally speaking), but it’s who I actually am that is flimsy and full of self doubt. I struggle to believe that people would actually want to know me. WANT. Not be forced to or convinced to, but want to. How can I see that I am a gift when what I see is the wrapping paper ready to be tossed away?
There is a space within me craving to be known. To be understood. I have met some wonderful people who know how to love me and reach into that depth I desire, but times and circumstances change. And actually reaching out to those few sometimes feels impossible.
It's a sad realization, really. I see now that I don't often let others get too close to me because in my core, I don’t believe that I’m actually worthy of being known.
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