When I was in fourth or fifth grade, the group of girls I considered my besties, pulled me aside on the playground one day at recess because they wanted to talk to me about something. I excitedly met them under the designated Discussion Tree, thinking there must be some exclusive secret they wanted to share with me. Wasn't I surprised to find out what they wanted to tell me was that they didn't really like playing with me that much and thought it would be better if I bowed out of the friend group. It rocked my world! I instantly wondered, "Well, who will I play with now?! Will I spend every recess for the rest of my life all alone?! And who will I sit with at lunch?!" I absorbed their message and understood immediately that I didn't fit in and that I wasn't wanted, which was especially devastating for a born people pleaser. If you've ever been a middle school or high school student or seen any movies or TV shows about people in those demographics, you understand that sitting alone at lunch is the equivalent of social death, which might as well be the equivalent of an actual slow, painful death. It hurts like hell to not be one of the chosen ones.
I wish I could say that was the only time in my life that I felt the sting of rejection so acutely, but I can't. Not all the rejections have been quite so direct (though a few have been as direct and even more devastating), but my whole life story is peppered with chapters of not fitting in, not being chosen, being labeled the least interesting person in the room, and finding no seat open for me at the proverbial lunch table. Until recently, I let those rejections have a prominent place among the voices in my head that are already inclined to tell me I'm not good enough, that I don't measure up, that I am not worthy or valuable. I have literally puked my guts up and cried myself to sleep imagining scenarios in which I die alone--not just physically, but worse, emotionally--with no tribe to call my own and no one to validate my existence. The reason being rejected feels like death is that, from an evolutionary standpoint, humans without a tribe did not typically fair well. If the group rejected you, your odds of survival were not good. Many scientific studies have shown that lonely people have shorter life expectancies as well as an overall lower quality of life--statistics that can feel scary if you struggle to find or keep your tribe.
But there is another side to this coin, and it's something I've been meditating on for a while now. Being kicked out of the group hurts deeply, and being rejected does feel like a type of death. BUT when you can go ahead and embrace the loneliness rather than fighting it, you actually come to a place of peace and power. When you keep waking up day after day and realizing that you are surviving the thing you thought would kill you and using that lonely time to get to really know and love yourself, it changes the whole game. At some point, you realize that you have intrinsic value, which isn't dependent on your inclusion in any particular group. Then you come to realize that it actually feels worse to force your chair up to a table where you aren't wanted or respected than it does to just sit at the next table all by yourself, reading your book and enjoying your lunch in peace. And then you become a very powerful being indeed, because you can walk into any room or any situation, knowing your own worth and being content to enjoy your own company without the need to be validated by others. You take all the pressure off yourself to fit in because you already know you are a rare species that can survive--and even thrive--on her own. (It does help if you are an introvert, who is quickly depleted by the company of others anyway.) It is pure freedom.
That certainly doesn't change the fact that humans are social creatures and are designed to make deep and real connections with one another and that we will always desire that. But it does change the way you view the seating arrangements in the lunchroom. I am at a place in my journey now where I only want to sit at tables where a seat has been saved for me and is enthusiastically pushed out for me upon my arrival. I will only sit at tables now where the faces of the others seated around them light up when I approach. Barring that reception, I will gladly sit at a table by myself. I understand my value; I like who I am; and I am not afraid of sitting alone. So unless a person can add real value to my life experience and feel genuinely excited to have me at their table, I'm better off not sitting with them. There is so much freedom and power in this mindset! I will not ever be everyone's cup of tea. There will always be people who don't think I'm fun to hang out with and don't want to "play" with me anymore. And that's okay. I don't need to be loved by everyone. I don't even need to be liked by everyone. And I don't have to take their rejection personally. It probably has more to do with them and a particular need they have than with me anyway. I just need to move on to the next table, where I can happily sit alone for a very long time, doing my own thing and enjoying my own company. But eventually, as I continue to offer the chairs at my table to others, I believe I will see my table fill up with the people who are my people--the ones who truly enjoy my presence and add value to my experience.
By the way, if you happen to find yourself wandering around the lunchroom of life wondering if there is a place for you to sit, please know there are free chairs at my table that I'm saving for you, and I'd love to have the pleasure of your company.
