Likable

I'm feeling something I'm having trouble expressing. In fact, this year has been full of feelings I haven't been able to put into words. At least, not as well as I usually can. And I'm not sure exactly why this is.

I've had a lot more personal support lately. Connections and socializing (if mostly digitally) that have brought me comfort and sometimes even joy. I've been in awe of how many of my friends (old and new) have wanted to spend time with me: texting, voice chatting, gaming, and sharing deep conversations. It's been wonderful. The most connected I've felt in a very long time. But...

This is actually hard for me? At least some of the time. And I'm not just talking about introvert social fatigue, which has popped up from time to time. I realized I have never, ever felt likable before. I've had close friendships in the past, and I have always been of the quality over quantity mindset. But I always felt those people tolerated my less likable aspects better than most, and over time we bonded over shared experiences to the point where we were like soldiers who had faced something no one else would understand together. Friendships forged in the fire, I always said. And there's nothing wrong with that. I cherish that aspect of my longtime friendships.

But I still didn't feel... or maybe didn't let myself feel... likable. My therapist and I talked about this recently. "How do I suddenly have so many friends?" She told me I was likable. And I said, "Am I?? Because I've never felt likable!" Because frankly, when you are bullied to the point of wanting to die as a child. When you are made to feel, not even invisible and unworthy, but like a disgusting blight on the world. How could you ever feel likable?

Being likable isn't everything. In fact, probably a lot of the most influential people in history were unlikable. And if you have to bury parts of yourself to be likable, it's not worth it. It's not authentic. It's not being seen for your true self. I've never been able to do that. At least not for any long period. And not without a massive amount of emotional pain. I learned I had to be myself a long time ago. I was forced know myself, to accept myself, and for brief periods of time, I even found a sense of self-love. But at best, I considered myself (and my friendship) to be an acquired taste.

Even with as open and vulnerable as I am, I deeply fear being misunderstood or rejected. This was a huge battle I faced when I was writing Book Two. This week my therapist said I have come so far with that. And I have. I honestly have. But whether by fate or bad brain chemistry, just talking about that brought about a new wave of self-doubt.

There's so much I don't like about myself. So many parts that feel unworthy of being loved. I've forgiven the people who've hurt me the most in life. That doesn't mean I've forgotten it. But I have found true empathy for those people. It's the mistakes I've made that haunt me the most. The parts of me I don't like seem so much worse than the good parts. I know they're there. Prominently. But I obsess over the shadows instead. Maybe that's how it is for most people. My therapist thinks so.

I'm not aiming to be likable. I'm aiming to be authentic. Vulnerable. Truly me. And truly connected in whatever relationships I'm meant to have. But is it so bad to hope for being liked? For being understood? For being seen and valued?