My friend Wendy used to point out that I was seeking external validation in some of or all of the things we would talk about. And she was right. I absolutely 100 percent without question want external validation. If you were to know me, like really know me, you would get why the sort of need for validation is based on some really crappy psychological stuff like shame, and the imposter thing, and some sketchy parenting, and bad life choices. Don’t worry though, you would see it, unless I write about it. Your not likely to be coming to my house, or call me on the phone, and if you do, I will fake it pretty convincingly.
I am in the middle of a rough patch now. I am my moms caregiver, and even if I was not, I would be the 53 year old live alone guy who talks to less than 3 humans in a seven day span. I am the old guy staring at his feet in the grocery store, or not talking to the other guys in the Y locker room. You know me or dudes like me, I am the guy who is sort of there, but not really there.
Years before Covid I was an on the road consultant. I was gone for long stretches at a time. But, during those stretchs I would take the time almost daily to call my ‘friends’ on the phone and check in. It was pre socials. So you still spoke on the phone. But, at some point I left a message on my buddiess Shawn phone, with a text, that I actually needed him to call me. I do not remember what it was, but what it was I NEEDED to speak to him.
Weeks past. No call. No text, no anything. Then at some point I started counting the number of days from the time I called him, to the time he called me. I had asked him to call, and he had not called. Then it became a FUCK YOU contest, where I would show him, you do not want to call then I am not calling you. You call me your friend, then pick up the phone.
Then that spun out to everyone. I decided I was NOT going to call anyone other than my family. ANd I would keep track daily to see who called me. What a pure dick thing to do. But, then, nobody called. None of the so called friendships I had had any amount of effort on the other side of the equation to call me.
And I broke myself on this knowledge. Just destroyed myself when I came to the realization that the people who I think of as my friends, they do not like me enough to call me. There was a guy named Mark who said I was one of his best friends, we went 5 years without talking or texting. And the only reason we connected, I called him. We would have never connected or spoke again, why, because I had said I would not call anyone.
Here is the thing, I know that seems petty and immature. But, I am a dick. In my own head, I am a jerk. You would not know it by talking to me, but when you walk away, total jerk face.
So, I knew right then, no one actually liked me. The way I know, given enough time, and they would simply not call me or seek contact with me in anyway. Now, I get it, kids or cancer or plane crashes or auto immune disease, those things happen. Totally get it. But, on a long enough time line everyone can find time to call the people they care about. I know for a fact, I am busy, and I still called. They did not call. I was not valuable enough to call.
That is harsh to internalize. But, I did.
Mom got sick, so that took up the front burners in my mind. But, I still want to exist in the world, and I want the world to like me. I want to do things with other people. But, the thing is, I think that ship has sailed.
Hockey is coming up, and I have the feeling, like last year, I am only going to go to games with my niece. I won’t end up going with any friends. That is how it went before, slowly but surely, you end up going alone. To movies. To restaurants. To whatever.
Then, I stop going anywhere. Covid gives me permission to not exist in the world. And I do not. I type here, but its not like any of you are going to hold my hand, or give me a hug when we meet for the first time. and if we met for the first time, I am sure I would be freaked the fuck out.
And now, on a project I am a part of, I was told today that maybe the reason I am being excluded is that I am too passionate. Which is code for I am loud and scary. Which I am sure I am. My hearing is bad, I tended bar and lifeguarded when I was a teen, so my voice has volume to it. But, too passionate, is also code for not being likeable, not being trusted, not being lots of things.
So, I am left out of the project I worked to bring about. The world wants you quiet, and passive, and acceptably passionate but not actually passionate. I am an inspired motherfucker, I love the fucking world. But, the world wants me to cool it. Be quiet. Shhh.
And I have not given in on that yet. But, here is the thing loyal substack readers, the world is a forever grinding you down place. People want what they want. They have needs, and desires. And so do I. I want people to call me on the phone and talk to me about my day. But, they do not. I want people to respect my professional experience and allow me to be a part of the project I got this far, but I talk to loud so I won’t get to.
The world wants you nuetered. They want you like Chief after the lobotomy. They want you to stand there quietly.
I suppose maybe if I stood quietly, people would like me. Because holding true to this vision of who I am, and valuing my own voice, surely has left me alone at 53. And sad. I was crying driving home from the pool today. The pressure of knowing I am facing exclusion again is just hard, and it hurts.
Years ago I quit my local library board because I felt like all I had in front of me was resistance, and that resistance led to me questioning myself, my skills and my value. I am there again. I clearly feel worthless, and people reinforce that by excluding me from something on merit I should be a part of. It hurts me a lot.
But, yeah, maybe sitting down and shutting up and being like everyone else, thats the key to getting some friends or external validation. I know thats not the right thing, but I am tired of feeling unliked, and alone. And I do not know how to get people to value me.