It's insecurity, I think.

Then
I can remember taking naps when I was little. Lying on Grandma’s mattress in the front bedroom of a smallish house on a busy street. Tracing the patterns on the white comforter as I tried to rest as I was told, hearing her breathe as she lay behind me.

Countless times, I opened my mouth to tell her I loved her. But I would stop. Starting near age 3 probably, then lasting for years afterward, I would stare at the wall, watching the sheer drapes move gently at the window, wishing I could say something so she could tell me she loved me too.

But what if she was resting and I disturbed her? What if I got in trouble for not going to sleep right away? What if my voice wouldn’t work when I needed to speak? What if she didn’t love me back? Wasn’t it better to just assume I was appropriately adored than to ask?

I would work myself into a mild panic before needing to establish some connection. Of course she loves me, I’d think. Look around! There’s all sorts of proof. She’s always said so before. I have my own drawer in the kitchen with Kit Kats and snacks. The hall closet was for my books and toys. I was cuddled and lavished with attention. There was no reason to be insecure – none at all – but I was.

“Grandma?” I would finally say softly. “I love you.”

Without fail, she would smooth my hair and kiss my head before telling me she loved me too. Very much. Not matter what. Comforted and reassured, I would drift into dreams and wait until it was time for us to get up and play again.

And now
I believe my desire to connect with people – to love and be loved – is incredibly strong. I also believe I resist said need as much as possible because I’m so easily hurt. While I can look in a mirror and know I’m not hideous, sometimes I believe I am truly horrifically ugly. While I can talk to people – watch them laugh and discuss and enjoy my company – I rarely initiate deep conversations, hurrying people along before they can find out I’m pretty boring after all. I want to be part of relationships, but the energy I devote to them once they are established is so huge, I sometimes decide it’s better to remain a bit isolated.

So I rarely look at people. I’m easily engaged in conversations – will talk with strangers a great deal. Find myself introduced to doormen, shrug and give it a shot when asked directions on the street of a strange town, sit alone in conference sessions rather than trying to meet people with similar professional interests. I’m just a bit apart under normal circumstances – if I don’t look at you, I won’t be tempted to know you and open myself up to being hurt.

But at conferences, I’m with my people! We use the same words! They know more about k-space than I do! (Which isn’t saying a lot, actually. I never really understood the concept all that well.) It’s like playing a game of Are You My Mother? within that large convention center. I know people there – have already made those connections. My group from graduate school is large; I know people from my post-doctoral institution; I’ve met others at past meetings and other gatherings with whom I’d love to talk again.

So I find myself checking faces as I walk around, ride countless escalators, watch people enter and exit session rooms. I’m looking for people I know, and it leaves me feeling a little vulnerable and desperate. Just because it’s unusual. Like lying in bed and thinking I loved my Grandma, knowing I was loved in return, but wanting to double check – just make absolutely sure. Likewise, there are people around who would want to spend time with me – I’m pretty sure – and I just need to find them and check. Reestablish that I’m a good person – pretty enough, smart enough, interesting enough.

I wrote up to that point this morning – lonely, a little lost, a lot sad. Apparently I decided that establishing my personal value could occur by going back to bed after showering. I pouted and moped and then decided that I could at least go shopping. So I got dressed, put on flip flops instead of heels and headed out with my pretty pink purse. I went toward the shopping district, heading in a direction that I thought was away from Pike Place Market. But my sense of direction is pretty bad, so I smiled without much surprise when I arrived at said market after walking several blocks.

I wandered through, found postcards (I adore postcards – it’s a weird habit of mine.), and got a phone call while buying chocolate covered cherries.

It was a friend from grad school and started a day full of my people. I talked and laughed and handed out new business cards over the course of several hours. I got ideas, smiled and flipped my hair, accepted compliments on my new glasses. Saw people from grad school - some still finishing up, others having moved on. I met people from England, listened happily to British accents, remembered years-old conversations so I could ask questions. I stopped to speak to current colleagues, checking their progress, answering questions. I had a late lunch with George - I turned away from my poster, saw him approach, and immediately hugged him, getting a bit teary when I congratulated him on news of his baby. I felt connected, important, happy.

I need the reminders, I think. Can know people like me without truly believing it on some days. But once someone pats me on the head, as condescending and insecure as that sounds, I'm all smiles and strength and can offer others the same encouragement and cheer and affirmation that I seek.

Basically, yesterday wasn't so great. I tucked inside myself - feeling alone and icky. Today was better - much better. I needed to look around and see friendly faces so I could feel important enough to be friendly myself. I'm truly blessed to know people who can provide the necessary time and attention to remind me that I'm quite lovely. Because without them, I'm often not so lovely at all.

Again, the time change is forcing me to bed before 10 local time. So I barely finished writing this - I can't find energy to go through and edit it. Hopefully you can figure out what I'm trying to say from what's here now. If not, again, sorry.