Escaping the Corner.

Sometimes in life, the greatest challenges we face are with ourselves.  This theme reminds me of an experience of mine that occurred a few years ago.  It was my grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary, which took place in their warm, comforting living community.  As soon as one stepped foot inside, the smell of mothballs and sunscreen overwhelmed even the stuffiest of noses.  The party was bustling.  Relatives that had not seen each other for years were reminiscing.  Children were galloping in circles like horses in a heated race.  Everyone was having the time of their life, as if being around family was truly intoxicating.  But I spent my time sitting alone.  I was not taking part in the fun; I was sober.

I claimed my place in the dark, dusty corner of the pool hall.  The sound of balls cracking, people laughing and babies giggling only made me feel more alone.  I was on the outside looking in, with my own family!  I emitted so much negativity that my mother appeared as if she tasted my sinister glare as she approached my corner.

“Why don’t you go play with your cousins?” she posed, while trying to hide her look of distaste.

“They’re my second cousins, mother,” I said with annoyance; it was like speaking to a child.  “I don’t know any of them.  Just leave me alone.”

It wasn’t like I was lying.  I really didn’t know anyone there.  My mother gave me a sympathetic look, and I felt the cool, moist touch of her condensation-covered hand pat my shoulder gently.  As she walked away, I felt the thick force of my loneliness confine me once again.  My surroundings appeared to become blurrier, and suddenly it felt like all the laughing in the room was directed at me.  Tears formed in my eyes, so I grabbed a nearby book to cover my face.  Pretending to occupy myself with “How to Move Like You’re Fifty Again!” just made me feel worse.  I felt like I was being pushed away; that I was getting further from reaching the happiness that I longed for.  Then a glimpse of red caught my eye.  As my vision cleared, I felt as if I was in one of the allergy medicine commercials.  The red object revealed itself slowly to be a purse, my aunt’s purse!  I pried my rear off the floor, wiped the dust off my body, stretched, and walked with eagerness towards the familiar purse.  I forced myself to look forward; to not see the hundreds of eyes burning lasers into the back of my head.  I straightened my back and stuck out my chest, trying to show confidence that I did not possess.

As I got closer to my aunt, I saw that she was chatting with people I had never seen before.  The faint odour of alcohol filled my nostrils, and everything around me began to double in height.  Around these adults, I probably looked as small and meaningless as I felt.  I turned in violent circles.  People began to stare.  The sound of my heart’s palpitations was all I could hear.  I was lost.

I pushed through the soft tweed and cotton legs of the monsters around me.  The feeling of my hand on a doorknob was so relieving.  I thrust my body against the heavy door and felt the delightful, warm, summer breeze blow onto my bare skin.  The ground crunched as my feet slid through the gravel.  I could feel the pain of little rocks digging into the bottoms of my feet, but I had to get away.  The familiar scent of sugar cookies and Tide laundry detergent from my grandparents’ house strengthened.  I declared my spot on the lawn, spread out my arms and legs like a sea star, and just lay there.  There was a cornucopia of beautiful pink hues covering the sky, from rose to fuchsia, cerise to coral, fandango to salmon.  The captivating, magnificent colours relaxed my body; not even the tickle of mosquitoes landing on my legs could faze me.

“This is so boring, eh?”

Startled, I sat up and found my cousin laying a few metres away on the dewy, emerald grass.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied nonchalantly.  I couldn’t let him know how much I was suffering from being alone.

“We could play hide and go seek tag.”

Did my older cousin just ask me if I would like to be associated with him?  I wasn’t sure if it was a prank or not.  I looked around for other humourists in on the joke that might jump out and laugh at me, but all I saw were the thick, evergreen bushes and their growing shadows.  I nodded my head with hesitation.  A smile spread across his face, and without realization, I smiled too.  Suddenly, he started counting down slowly, but vehemently.  The thumping of my heart began again, and I was filled with a giddy excitement that I only longed for earlier.  I ran, feeling the breeze in my hair and hearing the sound of my flip flops slapping on the pavement, completely ignoring the annoyance of a million fresh mosquito bites.  Absent-mindedly, I bolted for the pool hall.

I slammed my body against the door and burst into the room like a newly lit flame.  Heads turned, eyes ogled, but I didn’t care.  They only fed my bright, enthusiastic frenzy.  I was free!  I yelled for the room to not tell the mysterious “him” where I was, then fell to my hands and knees like an earthquake was just announced.  I crawled along the stained, rough carpet until I was safely underneath the pool table.  I was relieved, but only confusion filled the rest of the room.  As I slowed my breathing, I listened to the conversations around me.

“I wonder who she’s hiding from.”

“Is she scared?”

“Earthquake?!”

“Man, she is so cool.”

My eyes widened.  Had someone just referred to my panicky entrance and scampering around as cool?  My heart slowly rose like a helium-filled balloon.  The corners of my lips spread out towards my ears.  My insides felt warm and fuzzy, like that feeling when you get home after playing in the snow and find that your mother has made you hot chocolate and steaming, homemade soup.  I was still grinning in my dreamy distant world when my cousin slapped my shoulder and ran away hysterically. 

After we had played a few more rounds, my cousin and I returned to the pool hall.  Some of the second cousins approached us to ask if we wanted to play shuffleboard.  They were smiling so earnestly that I knew they were being genuinely nice.  I turned my head and glanced back at the two walls meeting to form the harsh, cold corner that I had inhabited only hours before.  I was no longer an outsider.  The room was now filled with happiness and love, not the sinister loneliness that I had seen through my negative eyes earlier.  I nodded my head eagerly and went to join my family.

            Looking back on this experience, I see now that I was completely wrong about my family.  I believed they stared and laughed at me for being alone, when they didn’t even notice me.  I thought that the conflict was between me and my relatives, when it was really with myself.  I was so self-conscious and ashamed of my shy nature that I believed everyone else thought the same.  However, my own fears of introducing myself to new faces and putting myself out there were the true causes of why I was alone.  Through this personal challenge, I became much more outgoing, and even willing to sacrifice my dignity in order to be “seen”.  When I was younger, I tended to exaggerate situations and forced myself to believe they were a lot worse than they actually were.  Without this experience, I never would have realized how much I was missing out by just observing as others lived life to its fullest.  I have not isolated myself again since my grandparents’ anniversary, and I never will thanks to my newfound perspective.