Alone in a Crowd

One of the symptoms of my condition is that I tend to experience heightened sense of anxiety in large crowds. It's not a phobia. I do not hyperventilate. Crowds just magnify my feelings of loneliness. Usually everyone has someone to talk to. Different groups are formed and conversations flow. Then I step into the conversation and the awkwardness is so tangible I could chew on it. 

Trends require too much effort for me to keep up. They change too often. The only thing I really follow is political news [and even that's become a struggle recently, given the rotten state of the sham that we call a government]. So, quite often, I find that the clothes I wear or the conversation topics I start are outdated or maybe, not so politically correct.  I have been given fashion advice about my clothes, hair and make up, while at a party. I have been told not to continue with a particular controversial topic of conversation while at a dinner because it wasn't pleasant and I was upsetting everyone else. 

I have attempted to change my crowds to perhaps find one that fit me and I, it. I mentioned in an earlier note that I like experimenting with food [cooking might be too grand a word for what I do in the kitchen]. So I thought I would join a few cooking groups. I quickly realised that I was not a good fit. A lot of the people in the group are bubbly personalities, who are the star of the show. They set up the groups to have an audience to whom they could exhibit their culinary skills. I was looking for friends; people to have conversations with, possibly over a steaming cup of chai [or cocoa or coffee or horlicks. I am flexible like that] and a slice of freshly baked double chocolate zuchinni bread [or humming bird cake or apple pie or gooey oatmeal raisin cookies]. I was not looking for a show. In addition, I realised that I might just be a lot cheaper than I had thought. I WILL NOT spend more than 20,000/- on a home cooked meal in mine or another person's home. What's the home in home-cooked for?

I then pursued other interests like gardening and teaching children. One, I found, was similar to the razzle dazzle of the cooking clubs. The other, is still a work in progress. I have made friends but still have moments where I catch myself talking to myself, in a corner. I tried to evolve from the wallflower to an audible voice in the group and soon realised that people might be afraid of my voice. I am fiercely loyal and do not like it when promises made are broken, This might make it difficult for me to work in group projects since deadlines can be missed and life always seems to get in the way of the plans we made. Like I said, still a work in progress. I am re-learning to quieten my voice now but at the same time need to remember not to shrink into the shadows again. 

Strangely enough, the church was the first group within which I noticed I was different, and in a sad way. Unlike what we see on TV, Ugandan schools celebrate academic achievements. The brightest and best of the class are considered school heroes. Given my family's background, it was easy enough to be liked at school. My parents are model parents. They are the kind to go through all your homework with you, prepare you for tests, read your text books with you and sit up all night figuring out mathematics that they have no clue about [thanks Mum!]. 

Church, on the other hand, was a different story. My parents weren't that involved in church when we were younger. However, mummy is the daughter of a Canon of the Anglican Church and daddy's the son of a  devout Catholic Catechist. They went to Christian-based schools and appreciated the moral input of their instruction. They were open to our participation in church activities but they were not interested enough to get as involved in that as they were in school. I remember having to dress my little sister and brother up for church a couple of times because everyone else was preoccupied [and I am the eldest anyway so, it fell to me to do it]. I was so worried about impressing the church folk that I kept selecting the same party frocks to wear to the church services, week after week. One of the teachers noticed and asked if she could talk to my parents about getting something other than our "uniform" to wear to church. 

Since we lived on a university campus, most of the church children were children of academic dons, like my parents. We were each accustomed to being celebrated at school, which brought on fierce competition at church. People did not like it if you got ahead of the rest [and I did, a couple of times]. I took my parents eagerness to show us the world for granted. I assumed that every family planned holiday trips during Easter to go visit the Mountains of the Moon. [Later in life, I realised that my folks were unique. I learnt that there were very few of those broke and almost penniless academic dons who were willing to spend a year's worth of savings on a special holiday trip to anywhere other than the village]. I was care free [or is it careless?] in my conversation and shared more than, I guess, I ought. 

Church is also where I found out that I am lazy at following trends. Like I said, my parents were always saving for some exploit or another. Thus, we were not adorned with the most up-to-date clothes and shoes. My mother styled my hair most of the time and when she didn't she took me to the same salon that she went to when she was a university student - they still charged the same rates. It was so much work to make a wardrobe work that I became a tom boy. Shorts, jeans and t-shirts are very easy to come by on any budget compared to dresses [and they make for better play clothes too!]. 

I tried so hard to fit in. We went to all the camps and festivals. I tried to get into the children's choir. I tried to join the girls' dance crew. I even offered to host the dance practices at our home [and subsequently had to find a cassette player to use!]. I thought it was working out. Until I noticed the sly looks, the hushed voices and the fact that I was never in the know about anything. I was not part of the in crowd. I thought it was because I wasn't Christian enough. So I prayed and was glad when my parents had us baptised. I followed through with confirmation classes and faithfully memorised the Nicene Creed. But I was still an outsider. Everyone else seemed to be part of a conversation that had started and would continue at some venue that I was unaware of. I got bitter and pitied myself. For the first time, I knew what it was like to be depressed. 

By the time I joined high school, I was sure that there was something wrong with me and that I would never have any friends. Like any average teenager, I secretly hoped that some "Prince Charming" would ride in one day and declare his love for me. The girls I hang out with [yes, the church girls] had strings of boys running after them. No one seemed interested in the tom boy. And, finally, when some one was interested, I was so sceptical and moody that I made it difficult to actually be in a relationship. 

Surprisingly, a church camp is where I had my first memorable experience with God. On 21 May 2002, we were praying at a church camp. I had prayed before, I knew the motions. However, this time, I knew I was wrong. He was right. I needed fixing. Thank God for tears and tall thick trees that a little girl can hide behind. Alone in that crowd, You found me and told me, "I see you."

Later in life, I was told by one of the church kids that they intentionally left me out of their circle because they thought our family was snobbish. They thought we were showing off when we shared our experiences. So, for years, they refused to share their experiences with us. I was mad and sad that they could have been so callous. But they were children too. And children can be clueless. They do not see the full impact of what they do or say.

A few years ago, I was in a crowd at a beach and some one else saw me, alone in that crowd. He's not the kind to sit back and watch. Often I find myself playing catch up to his enthusiasm and energy. But on that day he sat with me and he told me, "I see you." Maybe I would not have appreciated how wonderful that is if I had never been alone before. Perhaps my sadness has a purpose....