Birthday cakes taste less sweet now.
The other day, I told one of my close friends that I recently find it harder to deal with the intricacies of complex human interactions (read as: friendships) than having to suffer the existential consequences of aloneness. The latter, I ponder, is something I have navigated since the dawn of my realization (and I’ve recently written about it as well), and the conversations I have with myself are often real, honest — sad sometimes— manageable. I always have a five-point strategy after my internal monologues as to what I’ll do to pick myself up. Grab a beer or two, then a week of reflection and writing, perhaps, or even a weekend of just grinding away at my co-curriculars, my studies and my career planning.
Human interactions sometimes scare me. Beyond spending time with my family, which is honestly all I crave and care for as of late, exists a realm of interpersonal complexities that people claim I have a good grasp on — but tires me out of wits. And the feelings that come along with it… damn. Yes there are a lot of good times, times when I feel like I’ve reached the absolute pinnacle of human consciousness (this is sarcasm), but the bad ones… *insert sigh here*. I share the load with my core group, my high school friends, as they do with their fair share of baggage, but when my problems become unmanageable on my end — you know, the awkwardly bad situations that everyone knows won’t sort themselves out, kind of just lingering headaches that precede a grim diagnosis — we all just stare emptily. I guess, that’s life.
It’s been almost five months since my 22nd birthday. I don’t know what changed, but at some point in my life, birthdays became less about the gifts, the confetti and more about looking back at the past year. What have I learned? What pain will I be refusing to think about, what successes and glory will I wrap up for myself?
Which relationships will I keep?
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the relationships I don’t keep will literally go down the drain — blocked and archived. It’s more of, the kind of emotional attachment and headspace I provide individuals will have definitely shifted throughout the years.
Sifting through the pandemic has really made the process a lot easier. Made massive realizations about the relationships I’m keeping in my life. Friends, family, lovers, and even my placing in the community were all up in my face because, well, aside from school, there’s nothing much to think about when you’re jailed in your room with yourself.
Definitely realized the role of maintaining platonic relationships, and how it requires effort from both parties. I don’t really have the energy to voice it out as much as I should, but I surely notice when I’m not feeling the nourishment in the connection. And I’m not the type to hold grudges, but I notice things. Small things.
In some friend group, let’s say, it’s blatantly obvious when you’re someone who doesn’t receive some sort of birthday celebration, when for the rest of the group’s birthdays, there’s some cerebral preparation happening (and they’d involve you in those, too!). I guess it, along with other instances, speaks to my newly-found need to affirm my value in my relationships, which I have not given much attention to (but now I know that I should be constantly asking myself this — am I valued?).
Despite the affirmations people provide about “you’re one of my closest friends”, I would still need you to show up. Because I do, for you. And I realized, these things matter to me. Yes, we all have busy lives and some priorities might be more important for people (e.g. family, obligations, commitments), but it’s a different matter when we have a say in it. When we could’ve done more but actively chose not to.
It hurt, yes, but that’s just part of life, much like in our romances. People come and go, and it all depends on us to work on mutually staying in these connections. The past few years also made me see this, as I befriended a lot of new people whom I also fell out of synch with, rekindled new friendships which remain strong ’til now, and of course maintained my closest circle because they’re already endgame for me.
I guess the lesson for me there is, we don’t have to hold space for people who don’t hold space for us.
I’d heard from somewhere that people who respond to negative situations with “It is what it is” are terrifying because we’re somehow unfazed by the potentially-hurtful situation brought by another person. To an extent, that is correct, but it’s not that we’re unfazed, for me it’s like, well there’s nothing we can really do about it, is there? Openness is surely the key, but being open all the time, for me, means that my energy for dealing with the rest of my reality gets depleted much, much faster. And the rest of my reality, dear — let’s just say it’s not a trip to Luneta.
And so I allow things to wash over, to ebb and flow and to sometimes never come back. Does this make me a bad friend? Lover? Maybe. But if it means protecting the little inner peace I have after facing the world that seems to hate me, I think I deserve to give myself that space.
I deserve to give myself space.
And if people cannot understand — cannot pick up on that — then it’s simple, it’s clear as day.
It is what it is.
