M* said something to me today, amidst discussions of the upcoming trip to the beach for my birthday (which was Tuesday), that made me think: I was talking about how I'm always disappointed on my birthday, when I make plans with friends to do something, and everyone seems super excited and into it, and then come the day of, they all bail. When I mentioned this, M* said, "Classic middle child syndrome."
So I'm wondering, now, whether this is all in my mind, or whether there's something more to it. Since the birthday has come and gone, and since I'm just about to reach the summit of my ridiculously busy schedule (the module will be ending soon, which means 15 more hours of "free time" each week), I've been thinking about myself, how I live my life, the people I choose to include in my life and the people I perpetually keep at a distance.
I've realized how long it takes me to make a connection with people - a really long-lasting connection, more than just a random "Hey, me too!" moment once in a while. The thing about my current situation is, I've been really busy lately - the past two months my workload has doubled, and when faced with the option of partying with the people who live in the house and have way fewer obligations than I do (and then feeling like shit the next day at work), I generally prefer to stay home, watch a movie on the internet, and wake up semi-ready for my long day of work. This has resulted in fewer and fewer people I can genuinely relate to, as the people in the house are constantly changing and it takes time and opportunity to get to know the new people who come in. Although I was aware of this when my busy days began, I opted to put my nose to the grindstone, save some money on the nights I wouldn't be going out and partying, and sacrifice the potential friends I might make. The only time I've had available to socialize is on the weekends, when the people who've already made bonds have their own plans and don't even think to include me, because I always say "no." I had to explain the saying, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" to one of my students the other day, and it was one of those strange, dejavu-y moments where I felt like the universe was talking to me.
So, that's one part of the problem. But it's making me think about deeper problems, and I now realize how the insecurity I always suffered from when I was young still plays a big part in my social interactions. I think I hold people at a distance because I'm afraid they'll judge me, afraid they'll see the American in me creeping out no matter how much I try to conceal it, afraid of...well, just afraid really. So, of course I love my work and love to be good at what I do, no matter what I do but especially now that I do something I love. But that's no excuse to avoid making friends, to put on this confident, "I don't need you" exterior and always do my own thing. Because in the end, doing my own thing means doing it alone. And I'm starting to realize how much that sucks.
So anyway, what's happening with the beach trip is this: I started planning this thing 3 weeks ago. I mentioned it to several people, and they were all excited and even talking about plans for food and alcohol, camping and activities we could do while there at the beach. I researched bus prices and schedules, looked up hostal locations and prices in case it rains, and put up signs all over the common areas of the house to remind everybody. And now that I've seen the weather report (perfect) and there's the possibility of riding in a van instead of the bus (read: FREE), the anticipation of this trip has been the one thing that's gotten me through my hellacious week - I keep telling myself, "Just get through this, and on Saturday, you'll be sitting in the sand, soaking up the sun, without a worry in the world." On my actual birthday, even, at least 4 people flaked out on the casual tapas/drink meeting I'd planned, and I ended up having a relatively lackluster "celebratory drink" with a few friends that I barely know, but I told myself it was okay because we would celebrate my birthday this weekend. And of course, now, 2 days before the trip, I come home and ask a few people if they're still coming, and every single one says they've got something else, some reason that they can't go. One even told me there was talk in the house of, instead of going to the beach, having a house party for two members who are moving out this weekend to a house down the hill. That, honestly, was the last straw - the fact that I've been planning this for 3 weeks, and someone only has to mention another idea for everyone who parties together routinely to jump ship.
And no matter how much I tell myself it's not a big deal, jesus CHRIST am I disappointed, and angry, and depressed, and let down, and upset with myself. Because somewhere inside my head, I feel like it's my own fault for not letting people in, not telling people how much they mean to me on a daily basis, how much it means to me just to have ONE day, one fucking day where people come to not only support me but just to be in the same vacinity as me and enjoy themselves. I don't feel like that's a lot to ask. But I can't be angry with everyone else - all the reasons they've got are valid, of course (money problems, obligations, moving weekend, etc.), but I am angry and I'm just too self aware to try and pretend I'm angry with them. I'm angry with myself. Which makes it all the more disappointing.
Anyway, all truly isn't lost. The guy who owns the van, and his girlfriend, as far as I know are still in. And M* has told me she'll do whatever she can to make it, even if it's just for the day and we don't stay and camp overnight. Even if we have to take the bus. It's just not what I imagined it would be - I had hoped, at best, for 5 or so people from the house to come along. I had hoped to make a barbecue on the beach, camp out in our sleeping bags under the stars, welcome the coming Spring in style. And to finally have time to talk to the people I live with, to connect with them in a way that I never have time or occasion to do because I work so damned much.
Anyway, this is me. Wallowing in birthday self-pity. Waah, waaaah, waaaaaaaaah.
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