just watched superbad last night but it was actually pretty good
just watched superbad last night but it was actually pretty good
What belonging feels like
My family moved around a lot when I was a kid. Even before I was born, my mom and brother stayed with my uncle in Canada for 5 months so I could be born as a citizen. We all flew to Dubai just 2 weeks after I was born, which is where my dad was working at the time. Dubai to Toronto, Toronto to Dubai, Dubai to Houston, Houston back to Toronto, finally in the same city for the next 14 years. After changing schools 5 times, apartments 6 times and countries 3 times all before 4th grade, hearing that somehow people have childhood best friends breaks my brain.
When I first moved schools, I cried everyday for the first week. When I moved schools again, I only cried for the first 3 days. Next time, just 2. When I came back to Canada, I didn’t cry at all. It all felt familiar, like the change was over and I could finally get comfortable, especially because I was going to the same school I went to before we moved. But we were committing address fraud to let me go to that good school, got seriously accused of it the year after, and my parents were extremely on edge about that, so maybe some part of me knew that it couldn’t last. I ended up testing in the 99th percentile for giftedness the year after, which put my parents at ease, but I also didn’t want to move schools again and leave my familiar environment behind.
I’ve found that generally the younger someone is, the less clearly their identity is defined. And so it wasn’t that clear when I was much younger, but is painfully clear to me now: even though I wasn’t ever comfortable with change, part of me deep down was excited by it because I never felt like I resonated with any of the people around me wherever I was, and changing something big gave me a chance to get rid of that feeling of dissonance.
I thought the gifted program would put me around “my people” — it did not. I thought going to an enriched high school program would put me around “my people” — it did not. I had friends everywhere I went — I got really good at talking to people, and befriending them quickly. You kind of have to when you move around so much, or else face crushing loneliness. But it always felt like a party I was invited to out of courtesy rather than enthusiasm.
The concept of “searching for belonging” is interesting to me. While I do thinkI wouldn’t’ve found it if I didn’t look so hard for it by constantly exploring new social groups, I don’t think I would’ve been able to feel belonging even if it was right in front of me without accepting myself first.
Where I went wrong in my earlier years was thinking I needed to change myself to get along with everyone. That made me have a lot of friends, but made me feel more lonely than if I had none. After interacting with people for a while, I quickly figured out what they liked about me and what they didn’t, and I made sure to only show them what they liked so we’d never have any problems.
I thought that’s what good friendships were — never having any problems ever and if I ever expressed displeasure, then we’d stop being friends. When I was younger, this actually happened a few times — I’d get into a small fight with a friend and the next day they’d play with someone else at recess, so I learned to be more agreeable.
What I abide by now is the fact that conflict is inevitable. And so rather than tiptoeing around sensitive topics or trying to “act normal”, I’m straight up myself within 20 minutes of meeting someone and I see how they respond. I’ve come to the fact I’m a little hard to love, a little polarizing, and I’m not going to get along with 9/10 people I meet, and become close friends with even less.
And when I first started realizing that, my body shook with the fear of being alone the rest of my life. It was only during the pandemic and after a lot of solitude that I realized my greatest worry in life wasn’t dying alone — it was being around people who made me feel alone for the rest of my life.
I remember being envious of people I met in high school with “family friends” — kids who’d been friends since childhood because their parents were friends with each other. My parents never really had close friends, partially because we moved around so much and partially because of their natural hermit tendencies. We grew up really close to both sets of our first cousins and lived a 10-min walk from the mosque where most of our parents’ community was. But even then, my parents never dived too deep into the mosque social groups, and neither did we by extension.
How could those kids just be granted belonging from such an early age? They had friends they got to grow up alongside, that were the same age as them, that understood them since they come from similar backgrounds — when the only constants I had were my parents, who are 30 years older than me, and my older brother, who was trying to navigate the same lack of social anchors as I was.
My first hint as to what belonging feels like is an anchor — something keeping you from drifting too far away into solitude. The best 3 months of my life were last summer in SF at Buildspace School — the place where I’ve felt belonging the most strongly overall. And what I noticed when I went back to Toronto is that every other day, I’d get texts from my friends there like “yooo when are you back in sf??” or “bro just did a dinner wasn’t the same without u”. During the program, if I didn’t come in by a certain time, I’d get texts like “yo wya??” or “u coming in today?”. And when I came back, I still got texts like “yo you at the office?” and “bruh come to the office after u land”.
No matter what I did, I COULD NOT STAY AWAY! Or if I did try, it felt like my friends would hunt me down and drag me to the office to hang out. The structure of Buildspace was that we all worked in an office together, but on our own passion projects, and so literally no one had any financial gain in getting me to come in and work. They did it anyway, just cause they wanted me, not something from me. I’ve never felt that before — I got sick a lot when I was younger and barely anyone ever texted me even if I missed a week of school. But here, if I even missed lunch, I’d get a few texts worrying about if I was alive and well.
There were times where I was really down about pivoting from my software engineering career to make YouTube videos with no end goal in sight. Some days I really was so down I didn’t plan to go to the office, and wanted to rot in bed all day. Those texts to come into the office saved me.
When I was in Toronto after the program, I was at an all time low. I couldn’t find the motivation to make videos, was recovering from Covid, desperately missed my friends, and was suffering from Canadian winter. Those texts to come back and visit SF saved me.
When I came back to SF, I was on a tourist visa with no path towards staying in the only place that ever felt like home to me. And I still didn’t have the motivation to make videos but felt guilty for disappointing everyone who believed in me. I showed up to the office, had some good talks, and ultimately got a job here in sales, a position I was completely unqualified for at the time. Those texts to go to the office right after I landed are what saved me.
No matter what I did, however much I pushed everyone away and tried to isolate myself, those texts didn’t stop coming in. It was like a chain of words that tied itself to my leg as I tried to swim away, and wouldn’t let go until I relented and let myself sink towards the office where my favourite people were waiting for me every single day. No matter what, I was tied to Buildspace campus and it was tied to me. And the person who sent most of those texts is my roommate now.
Before this year I’d never even been in an active group chat. I’d never had a “boys” group chat. Now I’m the face of The Groupchat.
I never set foot on my college campus and dropped out before I had the chance to. I didn’t have the chance to find my people or make lifelong friends the way guidance councillors and older role models had promised me. Most of my lifelong friends were made on Twitter and Discord. I visited SF for 2 weeks once and slept on 7 different couches, and those late night talks bonded me more with strangers than late night parties with people I’d know for years but never connected with.
Everything about how I made friends was non-standard, but then I realized I am also non-standard. I spent years learning how to fit in with the folks I went to school with, feeling popular and liked, but deep down wondering why I didn’t feel wanted or loved. And it’s because I wasn’t giving anyone the chance. The people you’re meant to be with are looking for you, they just can’t find you if you’re camouflaged.
And that’s not to say that you the way you are right now is not capable or deserving of finding belonging — it’s just going to be harder to accept it without fully accepting yourself.
A couple of the people I feel belonging with today, I met years before we actually become close friends. And so the potential for belonging was there, I just wasn’t capable of seeing it, because I was so preoccupied with my problems that I couldn’t see the potential for goodness around me. I didn’t like myself enough to believe that anyone else could. And so for anyone like me, who’s failing to see that they might be closer to belonging than they think, here’s what it feels like.
I was really down for about 2 months. A friend noticed I was listening to a playlist on Spotify called “Sad again…”. They texted me, “IS BRO OK???” with a screenshot of what I was listening to. I was like, “lol its a good playlist”. They suggested we go on a late night drive together, I refused and claimed I was okay. They insisted, I relented.
That drive is what allowed me to pull myself out of the hole I was in, and I didn’t even realize how deep it was, but he did. I talked for an hour, he listened for an hour, and suddenly my problems didn’t feel so problematic anymore even though nothing about them had actually changed. I felt like no one could do anything about my problems so I didn’t tell anyone and refused help, yet here my friend was, proving me wrong twice, because he both did something about my problems, and proved that I was not, in fact, okay.
For my entire life, no one ever celebrated my birthday other than my parents. I have a summer birthday so everyone else in school got an announcement on the PA and their lockers decorated, sometimes even a surprise party. I’d maybe sometimes get a text or a post on my Facebook wall. I always said I didn’t care about my birthday. But I got a hand-painted card from a friend for my 15th and have had it up on a wall ever since. When I was 18, a friend asked if I was doing anything, and I said I was free ‘cause I usually like keeping my birthday empty so I can get some me-time (really I was hoping someone would surprise me), and he suggested we get dinner together. Something about someone wanting to hang out and celebrate me for a day healed me a bit.
This past birthday was my best birthday ever, even though I had food poisoning and was bedridden throughout. I was on a camping trip before my birthday and my friends brought out a candle and started singing. I was speechless. I think they thought I didn’t like it, but I was just stunned. The next day, while I’m home in bed trying to recover from my stomach bug, a friend comes into my room and wakes me up claiming there’s an emergency, and they got me a cake and ended up singing to me. On my actual birthday, I could barely move because of how sick I felt. A friend offers to pick up some poison-safe food for me, and I refuse profusely, but they end up coming over anyway, and spending the entire day looking after me, even though I’m incredibly delirious and fall asleep while talking to them. The day after, I feel a bit better, and head to a co-working meetup I run with some friends. They bring out a cake and sing to me as well. In the evening, a friend invites me over for dinner, where they bring out yet another cake and sing.
I never appreciated the birthday song as much as I did that weekend. I usually hate being the centre of attention, and it usually feels so awkward, but internally it was little-me finally was told that everyone cares for and is proud of him.
It’s actually the smallest thing, but nothing gets me more than sentiments like “I missed you”, “when are you getting back”, “saw this and thought of you”, or “it wasn’t the same without you”. Being actively missed while I’m gone, being actively thought of when I’m not around, something about how no one ever needs to say stuff like that but says it anyway because it’s really how they feel just makes me feel so… wanted. And that’s truly belonging — feeling wanted, rather than needed. Not for anything material you give someone, or for any social status changes you may effect, or even how you make people feel at your best — but just people wanting to see you even if you’re not perfect or working hard or “earning it”.
There’s this song:
and this lyric from that song:
This pretty much sums up how I feel when it comes to belonging. Keep looking for people who enjoy your weirdness, I promise you they’re out there, and when you meet them, try as hard as you can to stick with them.
I usually write most of these posts solo now and intentionally don’t get anyone to review them, so my italicized acknowledgments footnote has become more rare. And while no one really edited this one, there’s a few people without whom this blog post could not have been written.
So thank you to Jacky for reading my initial 4 paragraphs at our side-project co-working session and saying you liked it, which pushed me to continue writing this even beyond 1 day (most of my posts are started and finished in a day). Thank you also for the drive.
Thank you to 柯凯琳 for sitting in front of me while I wrote this, reading half of it, then all of it, and saying you liked it. I was iffy with this post for a while but I knew I had to publish it after you saw it and said it felt like talking to me.
And thank you to Subby, for being the person I feel belonging the most strongly with. If you didn’t text me all those times, I’d probably still be rotting away in Toronto right now.
so much love for u
And the crowd chants SUBBY SUBBY SUBBY SUBBY