Finding a Family

I look around the room. Everyone is laughing, having a good time. I stand there, surrounded, yet feeling so alone. Does anyone want me there? Nobody notices the way I dig my nails into my palms. Nobody notices how I cannot sit still. Does anyone even know I’m there? Someone tells a joke, everyone around me is laughing hysterically. I didn’t hear what the joke was, but I join in the laughter, hoping nobody notices how fake mine really is. They won’t. Nobody notices me. At least that’s how I see it.

I invite my brother to the bar to celebrate my birthday. I figure if it’s just the two of us, I won’t go unnoticed. On our way there, he tells me he invited some of his friends. “NO!” yells my anxiety. “I should have stayed home,” moans my depression. But my lips? The corners turn upward into a convincing smile. My tongue? It forces the words, “That's great! This will be so much fun!” out of my mouth with enthusiasm. My nails start digging into my palms again. My heart races, and I feel my brain shutting down. We get to the bar. I light a cigarette before I go in. It hides the fact that I can’t keep my hands still. It’s cold out, so shifting from one foot to the other makes it seem like I’m only trying to keep warm. We walk in. We find a table on the patio, and my brother orders us a couple of drinks. He comes back to the table, where I have lit another cigarette. His phone buzzes and he answers. “We are on the patio,” I hear him say. My heart races faster. Knowing soon I’ll be just a shadow. A shadow that nobody will notice, as the sun goes down and I disappear.

They walk toward us. Two people with smiles on their faces. They come over and give us both hugs, pretending like I matter. Soon there’s nine people at our table. I am seeing them through hazy eyes: drunk, smoking another cigarette. Every single one of them seems to want to talk to me. Every one of them takes the time to notice me. I don’t feel alone tonight. As we get up to go home, they all invite me to hang out with them again. I smile and tell them “Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Knowing how I felt was only temporary. Knowing the alcohol made me loud. Knowing it clouded my judgment and theirs. Knowing that I would not be wanted when its grip wasn’t present.

Fast forward to a month later. I get invited to the same bar, with the same people, this time to celebrate my brothers birthday. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to drink this night, due to working early the next day, I hesitated. What if they didn’t like me when I was sober? I decided to go, if for nothing other than to make my brother happy. As soon as everyone saw me, they all rushed to hug me. Throughout the night, we laughed and joked. I talked and they listened. For once, I was sober, around people, and my palms weren’t bleeding. My heart wasn’t racing. My lungs weren’t burning from the impure air of the cigarettes. I was happy. I was no longer alone.

Fast forward to two months later. We had a Halloween party. I didn’t drink. But I laughed a whole lot. I didn’t chain-smoke my cigarettes, my hands were too busy playing card games, and my arms were too busy hugging my friends. I didn’t make an excuse to leave early, I barely looked at the clock. My lips never had to fake a smile. My tongue never forcing words out of my mouth. They told me I was part of their family now. They invited me to “Friends-giving” and their ugly Christmas sweater party. And when I left? Every single person told me how glad they were that I was there.

I finally found a family. I finally found people who want me. I’m not a shadow in the corner, slowly disappearing. I matter. I am good enough. People care about me. My anxiety quiets. My depression still lingers, but it’s grip has loosened.

He was wrong.