The Loneliest Number
My mother had five children — she had to stop before she got to six. Her womb stretched to capacity, her hands too. I wonder if things might have been different if there were six. My two older sisters, an older brother, myself, and a younger brother. Sandwiched between two boys, it felt as though I was the only one who didn’t have a built in friend. Longing for belonging.
Even in old photographs, you can often find me lurking in the corners, yearning to speak the same language.
A former tomboy, I used to run wild by the lake with my brothers. Their long blonde hair contrasting with my short black bob. One time my brothers played a game where they put a baby bluegill on the scorching row boat until it sizzled to death. It was this kind of gory play that separates boys and girls. I so badly wanted to fit in that I held my tears for the bluegill until I returned to my room.
I still don’t eat fish, maybe it’s some sort of penance.
My mom and sisters were very practical people. They all shared the same drugstore quick makeup routine and I don’t believe my sister’s even got their nails done for prom. Without my parents knowledge, I joined the internet at 12. Having Jaclyn Hill to thank for my cut crease and Manny MUA for my entire personality.
Sometimes I wonder if my personality is just a persona I had to create, rather than the person that I am.
When I stopped drinking, I thought that my life would instantaneously get better. And it was true that I woke up refreshed, that colors appeared brighter and that sounds were a bit crisper. However, I also was able to feel the full extent of an anger that had been dormant. You can also become the absolute worst version of yourself before getting any better. I can’t help but isolate myself during this time, afraid that the hurt I’ve been hiding will unleash on an innocent outlet.
One of my favorite podcasts, ‘The Psychology of Being in Your 20s,’ discussed Erik Erikson’s theory of Isolation vs. Intimacy. In your twenties to thirties, the pendulum swings from needing to find your sense of self and wanting to share that with others in a constant battle. When feeling unsure of your general schema, one may tend to draw into thyself, causing loneliness. Conversely, when one feels confident in who they are, they are able to be more open with others.
By the looks of my past couple of weekends, he might’ve been onto something.
I sit down for my meal at Escuela, because I’ve never had a problem food couldn’t fix. The waitress looks at me with tenderness before confiding that she needs to take herself on more “solo dates.” Somehow getting dinner has become not only an act of bravery but one that elicits wimpish pity. She of course didn’t know that on this particular occasion, I was less than thrilled to be at dinner alone, or what’s worse, that I would be attending a Shakespeare play shortly after, also unaccompanied.
Loneliness is the price you pay for being niche.
As I left from seeing my ex situationship, the rain came down in droplets, sparing me exactly before and after leaving the shelter of my car. My daylist suggests “Crashout Late Monday Night” — go figure. On the drive home, I realize that this was a feeling I once thought I was incapable of. I used to blow up every relationship in my life after they shifted, unable to be malleable to the idea that someone’s place in my life may be different than that of romantic affliction. Every thought I had about what the evening might be had washed away and in its place was all I ever needed: a friend.
The truth is that I have an abundance of caring people in my life and that I am lucky to be able to have the time for introspection. So maybe I’ll be back to dancing on tables with you soon, I just need to get to know myself for a little longer.
And for future parents reading, maybe have children in even numbers.
xoxo BH
