Meet Me Where I'm At

Ever since I came to Sandwich Secondary School, there has always been a subtle whisper in my ear that told me to "act like someone other than myself": you're not going to interact with people like you; you need to be more like them. 

At the time, I didn't really realize the existence of this whisper. But as days turned into weeks, that whisper seemingly grew louder and louder -- gaining a voice which controlled me more than I thought it would have. 

I found it difficult to enjoy school days. Instead, I treated each one like a rehearsal -- everyday, I would subconsciously take mental notes about the things I "did wrong" so that I would do better the next day -- I didn't ask enough questions to keep our conversation going; I didn't make long enough eye contact; I wasn't friendly enough; I was rushing my talking too much; I keep on stuttering and messing up my words. All I did from Monday 'til Friday was to look for faults in what I did so as to try to perfect my personality, to create a version of me that would be acceptable to everyone. 

Weeks passed and each night was a struggle for sleep. I couldn't lay my head peacefully at night because of all my so-called failures. I fell deeper and deeper in the chasm of voices that told me I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't worthy to be anyone's friend, and these thoughts were the fertile soil that made fear flourish in my mind. Whenever I meet new people, I would be scared that at some point, they wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore. I was scared that when they realize how awkward or weird I was, they would just leave me. The voices even made me believe the lie that all my friends secretly disliked me and that they were just putting up with my mistakes. 

I was drowning in my own thoughts, continually tormented day by day, every hour before bedtime. Even though I tried to fight and convince myself to ignore these voices, they would always recur in my mind -- like a broken record player, reiterating "you're awkward, you don't know how to make friends, you disappoint all the people you meet."

One evening, as me and my family were sitting together in the living room, my parents asked me how school was. Like a single droplet of water that causes a full glass to overflow, I couldn't help but burst into tears. I told them everything that was going on and how tired I was of having to pretend all the time, of trying to be "the perfect friend." My mother tried to comfort and reassure me, but something my dad said pierced through: maging totoo ka lang, (just be genuinely you), you'll never go wrong with that.

Many nights before, I was always crying out to God and telling Him about these thoughts. I ran to Him because I felt like He was the only one who truly understood -- He's the one who would always listen to me and would love me for who I am. But during prayer, He told me in a soft, gentle voice that He also placed people in my life who would love me for who I am. He told me that I don't need to change myself or try to make myself better to gain their approval; I just need to be willing to believe that to have real friends, I need to be real as well.  

To all my friends at Sandwich, thank you for meeting me where I'm at. You helped me fight a battle you never knew I was fighting. I now know that there are people out there who will love and accept me by just being myself -- just because I'm Sola. 

You make my world so much brighter. 

-- Sodenitte.