A sad story? Maybe. But true, nonetheless.
I’ve always had my struggles, mostly with people, and that’s led to a life of loneliness. I grew up in a big family, the youngest of four girls, surrounded by cousins. In theory, I was never alone. But alone is exactly how I felt.
Childhood: No Need to Make Friends
I went to a tiny primary school. My best friend was my sister’s best friend’s sister. We were just put together. I never had to learn how to make friends, it just happened. But when I moved to secondary school, everything changed. From nine pupils to 200. I got lost. Turns out, I don’t like change.
The Mirror Phase
I didn’t know how to make friends, so I mirrored others. Their interests became mine. Their likes and dislikes? Mine too. It worked, for a while. But every time I had to make new friends, the cycle repeated. From age 11 to 22, I was exhausted. I had friends, but I wasn’t me.
Hormones and Darkness
I bloomed early. I thought periods made me mature. But I hadn’t met the chaos of female hormones yet. Depression hit hard. Tantrums that made the terrible twos look like unicorns on rainbows. I blamed everyone else. My family bore the brunt, especially my mum, the strongest woman I know. She got me help. At 13, I was put on the pill. It gave me something in common with other girls, but it didn’t fix the depression. Turns out, shared experiences don’t always mean friendship. Depression is depression. Bitches are just bitches.
Surrounded, Yet Alone
Despite being surrounded by people, I was still alone. My sisters were there, but I was the weird one. Not cool enough. At 16, my happy place was the family pub. I socialised with older customers, family friends, maybe. Did they talk to me out of pity? I don’t know. But through the pub, I met people my age. I was myself, and it was accepted.
Fleeting Friendships
When I was 16, my happy place was the family pub. It was where I felt most at ease, chatting with older customers, many of whom were family friends. Did they talk to me out of pity? Maybe. I’ll never know. But through that space, I found something I hadn’t had before: connection.
I made friends my own age, well, more like I was placed with them. But for once, I was myself, and it was accepted. I worked with one girl at the pub, and although I still mirrored her likes and dislikes, we became friends. We didn’t hang out at school, but outside of it, we had our own rhythm. And I wasn’t lonely.
She was there for me in ways that mattered, even if it wasn’t the kind of friendship my family might have hoped for. Going from a quiet life to a lively one was a shock to the system, but it gave me a circle. A real one. It lasted for a while, until it naturally drifted apart, as friendships sometimes do.
But one of those girls is still one of my closest people. With her, I can be my complete self. No masks, no mirroring. Just me. And I never feel alone or judged.
Another friend, maybe one I was paired with out of pity, but I didn’t care. I loved her dearly and always will. She never made me feel less. And though she’s no longer with us, she’ll always be my friend. Always.
Young Farmers and Politics
I joined the young farmers club. It was wild, fun, and full of drama. But politics ruined it. I left, and with that, the friendships faded.
Lockdown: Curse or Blessing?
Lockdown was peaceful. Quiet. But depression hit like an axe to the heart. I reached rock bottom. I wanted it all to end. No one knew how low I was, except one person. Because we were locked in together. She saw me. She helped me take the first step. I wasn’t alone. I never had been.
The Missing Piece: Autism
In that darkness, I found a word that explained everything: Autism. Why I struggled with people. Why I felt so alone. Why depression clung to me. Autism. Years later, I got the diagnosis. It was the missing puzzle piece.
Still Struggling, But Finding My Way
I’m still learning. The voices still shout sometimes, and the loneliness hasn’t vanished overnight. But now I understand myself. I know why things have felt so hard, and I know I’m not broken, I’m just wired differently.
Autism gave me the language to explain what I’ve felt all my life. And with that understanding came acceptance. I’ve found people who truly see me, who don’t expect me to mirror them, who love me for who I am. They were always there, I just needed to see them through a clearer lens.
I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m on my way. I’ve built a support network of incredible people. I’ve learned to speak up, to ask for help, to be unapologetically myself. And that’s not just progress, it’s power.
So yes, I’ve felt alone. But I’m not alone anymore. I’m growing, I’m healing, and I’m hopeful. And that, to me, is everything.
Add comment
Comments