Then to Now: Never Alone

Every life has its own 'viewfinder'—a set of early scenes that play on a loop in the back of our minds. This series, Then to Now, is my personal archive of my own core memories. By documenting these childhood stories, I’m looking for the threads that shaped my perspective, explored through the lens of the present. One memory at a time, I’m tracing the line from these foundational flickers to how they still develop in the person I am today.

The exact setting or event is vague to me - it must have been a high school band trip I think - or junior high? Maybe a choir thing? I don't know, the cast of characters were all pretty similar in my life through all the musical pursuits I filled my life with in lieu of performing well academically. 

I think my "boyfriend" Brian had just broken up with me, after I learned he had "cheated" on me by kissing another girl. It was all very dramatic and I was devastated as a young, awkward, love-struck dummy would be. Back then, I think I had some mental and emotional issues that were quite repressed, and my social anxiety had not yet bubbled up to my awareness. I wouldn't say I was clinically depressed because, as I understand it, people with depression don't have such logical views of their dark thoughts as I did - I contemplated suicide but was easily able to dismiss it as illogical for resolving my issues and something that seemed like all too much effort to bother with. 

Anyways, the scene that formed a "core memory" and a promise that I'd perpetually keep to myself started in the girl's bathroom, with me in tears. I remember feeling so very alone, and it was that utter loneliness that really brought me down. It wasn't the break up, it was the crushing loneliness. Maybe more precisely, the unworthiness of others' attention. 

Where were my friends? Who were my friends then? I can't even recall. But two girls whom I barely knew ended up being the ones comforting me. One was named Suzanne, I'm pretty sure, and she was the one who had kissed my now "ex." She should have been my mortal enemy or whatever, but I suppose I've never been one to blame the person someone cheats with, it's the cheater that's the problem, always, in my book. I'm not sure though if she felt guilt about the situation and that's why she was comforting me, or if she was just genuinely a nice person who happened to see me in my emotional breakdown. Either way, her and her friend put their arms around me and said nice things to me, even joking about how Brian was a crappy boyfriend anyways, who needs him? I've always found humor is incredibly helpful when I'm terribly sad, and this time was no exception. 

The two girls, whom I was barely acquainted with, comforted me and helped me work through all the emotions. And though I had started by feeling lonely, and they weren't the closest of friends, a realization dawned on me in that moment that even when we think we're alone, there is always someone who can be there for us. 

I silently made a promise to myself that I would never forget that lesson. And while the details have become fuzzy over the years, I've recalled that lesson time and time again when I felt alone. "You are never alone," I would assure myself. And that reminder would be enough to push myself from catastrophizing to thinking about who I could reach out to. And invariably, the people to whom I've reached out have always come through in one way or another, reinforcing that I was right. 

I know my brain works in a way that allows me to keep this promise, and I don't take that for granted. But as I look back from now, I realize that keeping the promise to myself wasn't the end of the lesson. The real work is being the Suzanne in someone else's moment of need—the unexpected person who shows up just in time to prove wrong the lies we all tell ourselves sometimes.