When exclusion leaves you feeling like the lonely girl in pigtails on an empty playground.
If you’re over 35, the running theme of Instagram reels on your algorithm would have you thinking that the only problem with adult friendships is how hard it is to get together. The back & forth texts and WhatsApp group chats of trying to find the holy grail weekend where all of you are miraculously available to catch up. Or on the other hand, the fact that cancelled plans are now your favourite plans. Which I believe can be attributed to two things:
a.) You’re old as fuck and no longer have the energy your 15yr old self did.
b.) Your 15yr old self lived in your parents’ house where only one room was your domain and you were bound by rules, curfews and watchful eyes. You wanted time out! Now, home is your haven, curated by you. Why would you ever wanna leave?! (Although it’s definitely ‘a’).
But what about the thing we’re not meant to talk about? That shameful, dreaded feeling of being excluded. Of being the only one left out. When you see the insta posts & stories of a group of friends or colleagues standing around in their beautiful outfits, with their beautiful hair, laughing at a joke that you weren’t in on because you weren’t there to hear it. Admit it, this has happened to you at least once, and you were mentally transported back to your schoolyard in pigtails, feeling so small and invisible.
The last year forced me into so many uncomfortable situations as part of my growth metamorphosis. Each and every situation was uncomfortable, many hurt, and others left me pulling a dagger out of my back.
I always expect to be tested in many areas of my life from career, to finances to buried traumas. What I didn’t expect to come across in the last few months but received an absolute barrage of, was being excluded by peers. It started small, a group of friends (although more accurately ex-colleagues), liking each other’s Instagram posts but rarely if ever, liking mine. And you start to reason with yourself that perhaps they didn’t see it, but they never miss a story, so you know you’re not muted. Then the farewell parties and engagement parties started, and you found yourself notably absent from all of the beautiful pictures, although other girls who had also left the company were included, as well as brand new girls who didn’t have such a long history of friendship. You then find yourself with a mean case of insomnia as the heavy weight of exclusion lay on your chest (this is why I never look at my phone late at night…no good can come of it!)
Then the local mum group followed suit. When you walked past one of them, so excited to see a fellow sister in the trenches and scream out “hi!” Only to be told she was on her way to meet the other mum you’re extremely close with (like has met your whole family, close). You then get invited to come along but all you can think is, “why wasn’t I invited earlier? And if you didn’t run into me, I wouldn’t have been invited at all”. You start to wonder why it is that you always ensure you text both of them when catching up, to ensure that no one feels left out, but the rule didn’t apply to you.
They start to think that you’re being weird or too sensitive as you pull back but you can’t help it. The hurt is like a bowling ball on your chest, and you can’t seem to get up, no matter how hard you try.
You then replay the last few catch-ups over in your head, you remember your mental health was really bad back then and all you wanted in the world was to have a good chat about your feelings, but they kept losing eye contact and not listening to what you were saying, that you find yourself thinking, “Why am I even here? Can anyone see me?” And you go home with an empty cup.
Motherhood is without a doubt the most joyous and rewarding time of life, but it can also be incredibly lonely and isolating. What you crave, is that village. When that village isn’t embracing you, you feel lost.
(GIF courtesy of https://tenor.com/)
Now before you send help, or before I regress too much into this pity party, let me give you my silver lining. I look around me and see that no matter what is happening in everyone’s lives, no matter how much weight I’ve gained, no matter how daggy my clothes are; my ride or die besties I’ve known since high school…30 years ago this year (bones creek) are literally always there. They see me, they hear me, they make me feel whole. They’re not just a cosy blanket, they don’t just tell me what I want to hear, they also hold up the mirror when I’m running from what I need to face. And I do the same for them. It’s a second family.
The friends with incredible depth & empathy. Unlike so many groups I’ve tried to burrow into, these friends never talk about body shape, appearances, status or social media followings. We talk about things that matter. Things that I’ll continue to think about as I approach my last few years in this earthly body.
For this, I am eternally grateful. I am so blessed. I already have all that I need.
In about a week, the Chinese Astrological year of the snake ends as we welcome in a Fire Horse Year. The Year of the Snake was a cruel bitch to nearly everyone I know. She forced you to view situations and relationships that no longer fit, or perhaps never fit, so you can shed the dead skin as you welcome in situations far more aligned with your values and meet you where you’re at. Like that perfect pair of jeans they no longer manufacture, so you find yourself wishing you bought ten pairs to last you a lifetime.
More than that. It’s an upgrade.
If these words are resonating with you, perhaps you’re about to receive a major upgrade.
I have absolutely decided to shed the dead weight of misaligned friendships. Or perhaps, they already shed me. My ego will occasionally decide to pop up and question why I was excluded, why all of a sudden people seem to be turning a blind eye to me. Have I become annoying? Am I the Anne Hathaway of Sydney? (Sorry Anne, I have nothing against you, I’m just going by the general consensus). Are my consistent podcast reels annoying everyone? But tough shit, that’s what I’m passionate about, I’m speaking my truth, it resonates with those who are meant to hear it. But the main thought that keeps popping up is that I wasn’t ENOUGH. I never had the right hair, I never had the right designer outfits, I never ate at the fancy restaurants, I was never thin enough. I’m too old. All I post on my insta stories now is footage of my son which I swore I would never do but then I met him and I absolutely can’t NOT!
When the exclusion comes from people you never really liked or didn’t click with anyway, it’s easy to move on. When the exclusion comes from people you adored or even someone who can only be described as your work wife, who once confessed to calling you more than her partner…it really fucking hurts.
I don’t care how much meditation, therapy or shadow work you’ve done, when someone you care about shows that you no longer matter to them, it really, really hurts.
If you’ve ever felt this way, it’s not your fault! We’re biologically wired with the need to be part of a tribe, because if you weren’t part of a tribe in cave man days, you died. The tribe meant shelter, food, protection, procreation and survival. Sure, you can survive now on your own, but even the stats show that connection and a sense of community extend your life span. Hell, even daily hugs make you live longer! No amount of supplements can replicate connection. That’s Biohacking 101.
The emotionally immature part of myself (she’s only at about 20%) wants to hold up my middle finger and say a big fuck you to everyone who excluded me in the last year. But we all know that the people who say fuck you, are the people who are hurting most.
The other 80% of me wants to acknowledge the hurt, sit in it for a minute (yuck, so uncomfy) then wish them well, then wish them away.
I hope that they have the most beautiful life, full of love & adventure. That’s what they deserve and that’s always been my wish for them. But I don’t want to see it, and I don’t want to know about it. That’s my self-preservation bargaining chip.
We have a limited resource of energy. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I have big dreams, I can’t be wasting any of that reserve on the wrong people or places.
(Image courtesy of https://www.reddit.com/r/seinfeld)
Maybe the problem isn’t adult friendships. Maybe it’s trying to make ‘new’ friends as an adult. Are we cemented in our group by age 23? I like to think that I’m changing and evolving all the time and I’d love for my friendship groups to always do the same.
I cannot express just how much I love getting to interview such positive, thought provoking people through my podcast. I truly feel like I’ve been so blessed in the last year with the new people I’ve gotten to meet and collaborate with. Some are so supportive of my show and so engaging on social media, some I haven’t connected with since our chat but think of them so fondly because the chat impacted me so much. Then there was one whom I thought I was building a professional relationship with, until I noticed she had randomly followed about 40 of my Instagram friends that she hadn’t followed before our chat. And has never met or interacted with at all. The absolute most random list of people from my high school friend’s teenage little sister who is still in high school (that gives me the major ick, teenagers are always off limits), my best friend’s aunty’s boyfriend’s sister (I’m literally not making this up) to women in my Mum group and ex colleagues from various jobs over the years. Many of whom had private accounts (there were presumably many more who didn’t accept the follow request). Anyone with a lick of common sense understands that this is simply not cool. It’s giving Single White Female. Not only is it not appropriate social media etiquette, but it’s incredibly intrusive and left me feeling very uncomfortable. It’s the online equivalent of someone rifling through your underwear drawer, which thankfully no longer contains any form of adult toys after my son came barrelling through the living room with what could only be described as a blue light sabre in one hand and a pink in the other (they have since discovered higher ground away from curious, chubby little hands).
If you’ve read my blog for a few years now, you might be thinking that this one hits different. It feels more like a rant or a bitch session as opposed to my usual ‘glass half-full’ take on life. And it is. But you know what, that’s OK. In case no one told you today; your feelings are valid and your voice is important. I was hurt, I was bothered, I was angry and now I’ve said my piece, and I feel two kilos lighter! This blog is like an emotional colonic irrigation. Better out than in, right?
You won’t hear me discuss this after today. That’s part of my process. Name it, sit with it, and let it go. I hope everyone I’ve ever interacted with is living their best life. I just don’t need to know about everyone’s lives anymore. That’s the beauty of choice.
As I sit here writing this, I think about last night when I read a book to my son before bed. It was one of the those ‘lift the flap’ books, but he keeps ripping them off so now it’s just, well, a book. It had a picture of a kite and as I was reading it, I felt compelled to break out into a chorus of Mary Poppins’ “Let’s go fly a kite!” My son sat up in bed, looked into my eyes with nothing short of enamoured glee and erupted into passionate applause when the song concluded.
Nothing, I tell you, nothing can harm me anymore. No pain caused by people I once knew can ever compete with the massive ball of love that exploded in my chest as I watched him clap and smile with such ferocity that his beautiful little eyes squinted at the rise of his cheeks. I am loved here. I am valued here. I belong here. Everything else is white noise.
May the white noise always pale in comparison to the love in your life.
PS. I will be closing this page very soon but I will continue to wite the same blogs over on Substack and my website www.canigetarefillpodcast.com.au so be sure to subscribe over there to keep receiving these!