Day in and day out I am rejected. At school everyday I face approximately 75 teenagers who would rather be anywhere except English class. There may be a few who want to be there, but it surely is not anywhere near the majority. Do you remember wanting to be in high school? Then I go home and face my very own teenagers: older daughter, who would rather be pulling out the hairs of her eyebrows in the privacy of her room, than talk to me; and younger daughter, who would rather text anyone in the world about “he said, she said,” than tell me anything about her day. Then there’s mr ex whose very presence reminds me that I have rejected my life as it was. And the “For Sale” sign in front of the house points to how my present life is what I have rejected, and that I am living within the walls of rejection.
Is that why I turned to blogging? To find an outlet where I can find people who accept me? You know, a club that doesn’t reject me as a member?
Is this how life works? We need to accept what we accept and not worry about what we do not? Or that we should not worry about what does not grasp us with warmth and that same level of acceptance that we require? Am I the interpersonal equivalent of a perfectionist? Everyone has to like me or I feel somehow lacking, that I didn’t color between the lines, so to speak. Or do I just need a core group of people around me, with me, physically and mentally? It’s hard to get that when the people who will give me a hug or go out with me on a Friday night are so far away. Is there a certain level of physicality or physical comfort that I need in order to feel balanced?
There surely must be negative vibes being generated in my presence that I unconsciously absorb when I tell my students (myriad times a day) what they must do, which is inevitably against their innate desire to be vegetables on a couch even in the middle of a classroom. And feng shui or not, being in a house that contains so much sadness and bitterness and, yes, hatred, must seep into more than my mind, it must be the source of so much exhaustion, and an inability to find comfort within myself and my life. I’m a pretty cerebral type, but the more I develop in life (okay, age), I realize that the words in my head are not enough to make a fulfilling life.
Last year when I had the torrid affair with the not-separated-enough man, I found myself carrying myself with comfort and confidence. Perhaps it was the sex-glow, but I think that it was the touch-glow, and the glow that comes from being physically accepted by another and by the body’s ability to carry (like a camel) the sensation of a touch for long after the intimacy has ended. And it was lovely, because I think that I was putting my hand on other people’s shoulders or arms more then than ever before. I was spreading the glow, and that just made it all the better.
Is this all about missing sex? Or is it about missing human contact? Or is it about both? Is it also about having teenagers who no longer want a hug from mommy and from whom I need to ask permission to give a peck on the cheek? It is, perhaps, also about being forced into a sort of isolation ward, where most of my interactions are with people who have to be with me. I love lunch in the teacher workroom, but honestly, we are work colleagues and so while we laugh a lot, we are not buds.
Is this how it’s going to be if I don’t create in the flesh friendships with people who I see more often than on a monthly or bi-annual basis? Is this where a lifetime of being an introvert has led me, to feeling isolated? Or is it merely how it feels to be living with people who have not elected to be with me? How many of our daily encounters are with people who want to be with us? If we are married, it is daily (okay, it depends on the day, but still, it is daily). So in essence, except for a spouse or significant other, we spend most of our lives with people who have to be with us. Generally, this seems to be okay, I mean there are people we don’t get along with; on the whole, in my experience, most people are good and have an aspect to them that you can find enjoyable or bearable. It seems odd to think about it, especially now when people are thinking so much about family get-togethers, that so much of our lives is with the un-elected. You have family and work colleagues. How often do we get together with friends? Especially once we have entered the realm of creating our own family? Is this balance what is missing? This need not to dump the people who reject me, but rather to balance it out with more people who I want to be with and who want to be with me?
Sounds like a plan, but this seems to be even harder than finding a potential mate. There is no Craig’s List list for friendships (an idea that I thought of way before Craig’s List even came on the scene, if you must know). But perhaps this should be my New Year’s Resolution (which I generally do not do): to create my own social situations and relationships. Maybe not having a husband to rely on for built-in company is actually good for me, because I am not as much of an introvert as I thought I was. And maybe one of the reasons that my marriage was bad for me was because of its isolationist tendencies. Change is good, as long as you change internally with the external change.
Anyone want to get together next Saturday afternoon for a walk?