#TWFT52 Prompt 12: The Word for This is "FRIEND"

Join me in the

corner, pressed into the angle

where walls merge, solidarity to

bear the weight above;

I sit in solitary observation,

this vantage point at the edge

of spaces where gatherings

occur, pressing

each bone that comprises the

back of me

into ninety degrees

of somewhere eyes

can’t see.

How do you define the word?

What role has trauma played in your friendships?

How have your friendships impacted your healing?

This prompt frustrated me. Can’t tell if it’s a dud or if the connection to this work is too nebulous. And last week’s “Touch” evoked human connection for me, so now it feels like I stumbled into the Department of Redundancy Department.

I’ve always struggled socially (people seem surprised to learn this), in part because I’m introverted to the extreme (highly-tuned sensory processing and energetic sensitivities), prefer crowds of three of fewer, happiest buried in a book. I’m not great at small talk (just get to the deep stuff). I’m silly-short; the physicality of looking up at people makes me feel like a tagalong, a pesky kid sister.

But it’s not just about being introverted or awkward. I think back on the messages that formed me, how the things I talk about in this space shaped this part of my life, too.

Type, delete, type, delete. My thoughts are too jumbled. Childhood friends, how they enjoyed the grandfather’s antics, his generosity. The way that felt like a betrayal I had no right to blame them for. The assumption that I had no worth, the way it spread to everyone in my world, the default.

But also: the connections I’ve formed over the years, the way there’s no in-between, just casual acquaintance or soul mates. My capacity to love them feels endless, even if my tolerance for interaction is limited. On the rare occasions when I think to reach out for support, to vent, to rage, they show up for me, just as I do for them. Being valued still surprises me.

Maybe someday I’ll internalize the idea that this is something I can have.