The sting of exclusion

I have been having a personal struggle which has taken a deep toll on my mental well being. As I write this, my partner, his brother and the girlfriend are seated right outside the room, at the balcony. Having a chit chat, drinking, smoking and laughing. Their laughter feels like salt to my wounds. I feel irrelevant, unimportant and invisible, like the awkward teen in the movies who does not get invited to events because she is just not cool enough.

It onsets a deep feeling of loneliness and adds to an already present melancholia, it stings. Moments like this get me homesick, longing for my own country Kenya, and days long gone spent in a smoky outhouse, with siblings and friends telling tales. Such warm days, enveloped in love unaware of the existence of such melancholia, read about them here. This is not a pity party or maybe it is, but what does it matter, being excluded more so when one is hurting, does nothing for a dreary mind. I am trying to remind myself that just because I am miserable does not mean everybody else should be. This reminder does not help much.

I remember going through a similar phase shortly before my daughter was born and soon after. My friends stopped asking me to an event on the assumption that I was busy or tired. Both assumptions were correct, every free minute was spend fantasising about sleep but it is nice being asked even if one declines. It gives one a sense of belonging and being wanted.

Thank You, dear reader, for having time for my short vulnerable moment, I hope you are doing much better than I am.

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