A childhood legacy
Why did we ever think it would be different when we got older? Last week I went back to school—not as a teacher, but as a student. I am taking a class in Visual Arts because I am teaching Art this year to my students and it occurred to me that I might want to feel like I have a clue. I looked forward to this class and, truth to tell, I am enjoying it, but I feel like I am eleven again.
A few of my co-workers are taking the course, too. I expected to hang with at least one of them. You know—sit together, make fun of the teacher, that sort of thing. But a good friend of hers is also taking the course, a woman I know, and suspect doesn’t care for me all that much. The other co-worker is taking a higher level of the course (it has three levels combined) and isn’t doing a lot of the same work I am. And by the time I figured out the dynamic of this particular group, including the new people, I found myself sitting all by myself. And the feeling was all too familiar.
I was pretty much alone in elementary school. I realize now that my ostracism (along with the teasing) was a form of bullying, but at the time, it was simply my life. Certain girls would “adopt” me for a period of time, only to drop me when it was no longer cool to hang around with me. It hurt. And more importantly, it made me feel as if it were my fault and that, despite all my efforts, I could not change it.
You would think that 36 years later I would not feel so at a loss, but the lessons learned at eleven are profound. No matter how often I reassure myself that I am “liked”, I find myself questioning it. I wonder about it at work, online, and even when I am with people. Do they really like me? The child inside me insists: they are only pretending. And the adult doesn't know what to say to make it better.
A few of my co-workers are taking the course, too. I expected to hang with at least one of them. You know—sit together, make fun of the teacher, that sort of thing. But a good friend of hers is also taking the course, a woman I know, and suspect doesn’t care for me all that much. The other co-worker is taking a higher level of the course (it has three levels combined) and isn’t doing a lot of the same work I am. And by the time I figured out the dynamic of this particular group, including the new people, I found myself sitting all by myself. And the feeling was all too familiar.
I was pretty much alone in elementary school. I realize now that my ostracism (along with the teasing) was a form of bullying, but at the time, it was simply my life. Certain girls would “adopt” me for a period of time, only to drop me when it was no longer cool to hang around with me. It hurt. And more importantly, it made me feel as if it were my fault and that, despite all my efforts, I could not change it.
You would think that 36 years later I would not feel so at a loss, but the lessons learned at eleven are profound. No matter how often I reassure myself that I am “liked”, I find myself questioning it. I wonder about it at work, online, and even when I am with people. Do they really like me? The child inside me insists: they are only pretending. And the adult doesn't know what to say to make it better.
posted by allison | 6:50 PM
6 Comments:
I know exactly what you mean. Besides sympathy, I have nothing to offer beyond *hugs* and *chocolate covered strawberries*
Angela
Yes. I know what you mean.
And if it's worth anything at all to you, I like you. Just as you are [/Bridget Jones]
*English snuggles*
Callie
I still feel like this all the time. In my case, it's probably more to do with having been conditioned to expect it, because I think on the whole that adults don't do this intentionally.
I hope.
I would sit with you. And we would have so much fun it would make the rest of the class SICK with envy! And then we'd go drink wine.
And it is amazing how much I understand this entry. I had that at my workshop on tuesday at lunch when I had to sit at this odd table with forestry-type men who didn't talk to me all at all.
Cocksuckers.
Gee, I should go trolling for sympathy more often! Between the choco-stawberries, English snuggles (and Colin Firth quote-age...*girly squeal*)and wine, I am a (virtually) happy camper!
And Jess, I agree with you, I don't think anyone is intentionally excluding me. It is just that the situation brings up all those old issues and that little girl just gets all worried that nobody will ever like her.
Poor little girl. She needs to go buy a pretty new dress.
I've pretty much given up on ever *not* feeling that way. Even in friendships I am confident in, a part of me feels like they will turn on me eventually.
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