Growing up, I never felt like I fit in. I still don't. But back then I didn't know the word "introvert" existed. I thought there was something wrong with me.
I wasn't boy crazy like the other girls. I didn't care about Leonardo DiCaprio or famous pop stars like the other girls. I liked video games, crafts, Halloween, etc. I would escape into movies and books and try to recreate clothes or jewelry that I saw in them. I loved staying home on a Friday night watching movies and crafting by myself. I could disappear into my own head and not have to make conversation. It made me feel happy (well, it still does).
It's not that I didn't like my friends and didn't want to spend time with them, I just got exhausted being around people and needed to "recharge."
But there was still that dreaded feeling that something was missing. I loved hanging out with my brother, playing video games and watching horror movies with him. I enjoyed spending time with "real" girls, feeling like an anthropologist; trying to make sense of their actions so I could attempt to fit in.
I would watch movies like Practical Magic and Little Women and there was this wonderful relationship that the female characters had with the other women in their families. I would watch our neighbors playing with their mothers or sisters, having tea parties, or just sitting on the porch talking. I would watch all of this alone and cry.
I would cry because I was lonely. I know that sounds contradictory, but I was lonely for that kind of relationship. Lonely for someone who was just like me and who understood me. Someone I could say anything to and they would know exactly what I mean. But no one ever did.
I had to learn to entertain myself. I got used to being alone.
When I got older, I found friends who I had a few things in common with and that seemed to be enough. I made friends pretty easily because I was nice and was a people pleaser. But I couldn't help feeling like a weirdo in sheep's clothing. I just couldn't find that female relationship I was looking for. No one understood me completely and I couldn't help that feeling that there was something wrong with me.
With a few exceptions, all the friends I've had in my life have all had sisters. I never had a sister. I had one female cousin who lived in another state who I never saw. I only had males in my family, and my Mom.
My Mom was a very closed off person. Much like me, she liked her alone time. The last thing she wanted to do after a long day at work was play a board game with me or entertain me. Now that I have kids I totally understand, but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt. All I ever wanted was for her to take the time once in awhile to do something like have a picnic outside with me but she would always say, "maybe later." I quickly learned that "maybe later" translated to "no." After awhile, I stopped asking.
One of the only things that we connected with was crafts. When I was eight years old I saw her crocheting an afghan and became curious. I asked her to teach me to crochet. She let me work on an old afghan that she didn't care about and my love for crochet began. After that I tried to learn every craft I could get my hands on. I loved how crafting made me feel like I accomplished something and how I could craft by myself.
I got a lot of compliments on the things I would make. People seemed to like it and I had hoped that I would be able to find someone else who liked to craft. A kindred spirit. Someone who might finally have a lot in common with me. But all anyone ever said was, "I wish I could do that." I always offered to teach them but no one ever took me up on it.
I finally accepted my fate and hoped that maybe my children would be like me. I was convinced that I would have children and there was never a doubt in my mind that I would have a daughter. I saved my old toys so that my children might enjoy them as much as I did. I made a promise to myself that I would never ignore my children the way I always felt ignored. I would build the clubhouse that I always wanted and have tea parties and play dress up, the way I always wished someone would do with me. I would never be too busy for my children and never be too old to play make-believe.
I just had my second son in January. I admit that when I found out he was another boy, I was pretty upset. All my life I was surrounded by boys and all I ever wanted was a daughter. I was pretty sure that this was my last chance to have a girl and I cried. A lot.
To those people who told me not to worry, I would love him just as much as Sam, I say "NO DUH;" because that was never in question. That was never the concern. Of course I love him. I adore him. Even though he NEVER lets me put him down and on the nights when I get 30 minutes of sleep and start to wonder what I did in this life or a previous life to piss off karma or whatever, I still love him to death. But this was probably my last chance, so I think I have the right to be upset.
Knowing my luck, even if I were to have a third child it would probably be another boy.
I have had a pretty tough time lately. It's hard for me to talk about these things because I am just not used to it. I've become a pretty closed off person. Between family issues, sleepless nights, rising anxiety, and being the only parent to two small children most of the time because my husband works odd hours and is either at work or falling asleep and might as well not even be here, I don't get much alone time. Most nights I get no "me time" because I am either up all night with a colicky baby or too tired to even read a knitting pattern.
I am having a hard time being around people lately; I am just not myself. I haven't been able to "recharge."
Thank goodness for my Mom who helps me out as much as she can. She sees how stressed out I am and thinks about how there was never anyone to help her when my brother and I were small. She comes over to help me with my children when she can and I don't know what I would do without her. I see her playing with my boys and I smile. But, I admit, I get a little jealous too.
Sometimes I fear that I just don't have the energy to keep my promises to myself. But I'm trying.
We were going to name you Alice Rose. I was going to teach you how to craft, make you pretty dresses, look for faeries in the woods, play dress up with you, have tea parties, all the things I always wanted to do when I was a child. You would have been just like me. You were going to be the person I was always looking for.
But I don't think I will ever get to meet you. And that makes me cry.
My brother is going to be a father soon. He is having a girl. Maybe she will like me enough to have a tea party with me once in awhile. Maybe she will even want me to teach her to crochet one day. Maybe. At least I get to make her pretty dresses.
Love,
Mom
