(no subject)

I feel so isolated when I see snaps from the lab group. The fact that nobody from the lab, aside from Jack, has responded at all to my birthday invitation brings the fact that none of them really care about me into sharp focus. Well. Aside from Melissa, who was kind enough to bake me a cake on my last day, even though we barely know each other.

I know intellectually that if I find just one real friend in a sea of people, that I have something to be grateful for. Diana was that friend at Xcel. Jack is that friend at the lab.

But I loved the lab so much because I felt so included. So loved. But that was when Adrienne and Brian were there. The lab has changed. Which is inevitable, but it hurts. It hurts more than I realized it would.

Leaving everyone behind - Margo, Jack, and the cats especially - is going to hurt. A lot. Loneliness will gnaw at me all year, I expect. I had better get used to it, find a way to work with it.

Seriously, though, it'll be my 30th birthday, and I'm moving out of state. Would it kill more people to respond?

I know I've always been a little weird. Never popular. I am an introvert, and I cherish my nearest and dearest. That is who I am. I know. But I always wanted to be the kind of person people rally around. I know I am dear to those who know me best. But sometimes I wish I inspired more people to show up, to support me. I know I excel at nuturing relationships one-on-one, and that's why I will eventually be an excellent therapist. But still. That longing for acknowledgment. That longing for a tribe. It hurts so much, still being the awkward kid who just wants friends. I hate still being there at the age of almost-30.

(no subject)

Ah, anxiety and depression. My old friends.

I feel unlovable. This time at the cabin is for relaxing but mostly I feel unmoored. Don't know what to do. Can't eat well. Can't exercise fully. Women's bodies are still policed. No trans people in the military. Margo asking us tersely to change the radio station because it's too upsetting. People still getting shot all over the place.

Grad school starts a month from tomorrow. I'm not ready. And yet starting might well be a relief. Bury myself in work so I can't think so much.

People tell me I'm obviously intelligent. I don't feel obviously intelligent. My brain freezes up in bluffing games like Coup. I suck at laser tag. I can't get friends together to celebrate a birthday. I can barely look people in the eye.

Margo's reading a book on Victorian women. Thank God I wasn't born back then. Margo might have been a spinster and a rebel, but I would have been a trembling nitwit. I feel like a trembling nitwit. I'm not the leader of anything. I feel invisible. The only way I can think to stand out is to dye my hair turquoise, but that seems stupid.

I think all this, and yet my greatest sadness for my younger self was that I thought such mean things. That I wasn't capable or likable or pretty. I wish I had trusted my brilliance. For my own sake, I have to try to trust in my own brilliance, my own bravery. That's the only way out of this cognitive madness.