Lonely, or just Alone?

Priyadarshini

Making friends has never been my forte. On any given day, you’ll find me in the peripherals of a group: awkward, wondering what to say, unable to make my presence felt, but wanting to stay just to feel seen. A few years ago, this wouldn’t have bothered me- I was a self-declared misanthrope. If I didn’t want to interact, if I didn’t feel up to it, I would just up and leave. My closest friends would persuade me to stay and talk to try and make new friends, but I simply couldn’t muster the social battery for it. 

And so, I would run. 

Running from social situations was my specialty. My headphones used to be my defense- when they were on my ears, nobody could take away my agency to vanish into the crowd. I was just another person on the street and loved the anonymity. But coming into grad school has changed that. I have realized that being a nobody here is detrimental in every possible way. To stand out is to be included into spaces, to feel like you’re part of something bigger. To shrink into the shadows is harming oneself unintentionally, much like the colloquial Hindi proverb, “apne pair par kulhadi marna,” (whacking your own feet with an ax). 

But how can I stop being a wallflower after having had years of experience in the field? Inevitably many of my thought trains go down the track of “Accept it and move on”, but I don’t know that it would fit here. How does one proceed beyond the everyday hello and goodbye with acquaintances and try to forge something deeper? Also, how does one try not to look hapless while trying to mingle? Navigating the world and its myriad intricacies is tough for anybody, but especially so when your shyness eats up anything worth knowing about you.

As I try to probe into why I’m made this way, I’ve come to the conclusion that I care too much. And closing myself up is just a defense mechanism to avoid hearing things or being in situations that will inevitably upset me. And, as someone who only thrives in one-to-one interactions, I am oftentimes afraid that this new world has no place for me. I am trying to push my own boundaries, forcing myself to interact more than usual, trying to put on this persona of over-friendliness, but I am certain that such disguises don’t last long. Especially in grad school, which goes by in such a blur that it’s impossible to believe I was only just new here. But this rushed aspect of grad school gives me a little confidence to get out there more; hardly anyone is going to remember my awkwardness the day after, or even care about things beyond a few hours. And so, I am trying to make myself seen, however against my nature it is, by joining clubs, offering help to others, and being “present.”
Loneliness is a self-imbued state, feeling pitiable its close cousin. But being alone or together is totally one’s decision. This is not to say that one should force themselves to be out and about all the time - alone time is equally important. But equilibrium is only stuck when there’s effort and rewards. I have given up several times on social banter, letting my chatty friends carry it forward, dissolving into the background again. I remind myself that conversation is a two-way street, that you give what you put into the chatter, and so I open up again, secure in the knowledge that these trivialities are often forgotten, but the impressions made will always last. 

Lastly, the oft-mentioned adage of “You’re not alone” comes to mind. However lonely you think you are, you’re not. 
You just need to let people in.