I’m starting to realize that one of the things I’m most afraid of is being forgotten by the people I love.
When I was a little kid I used to use an alarm clock to get up for school in the mornings. I always hated being late so I always made sure it was set. I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep unless I was really really sure that it was set for the right time and turned on and the volume was up and everything. And then in the morning the alarm would go off and I would pretend to still be asleep until my parents came to wake me up. I didn’t really particularly want to stay in bed. There was no chance I’d go back to sleep. I just wanted to be remembered. For getting up to be a group rather than solo activity. I remember so clearly the morning they forgot. I’m sure they thought they had already done it, or heard the alarm go off and assumed I had gotten up on my own. But I just laid there in bed watching the time tick by, thinking about how quickly I’d have to get dressed if they didn’t come soon. How few minutes I’d have before having to leave the house. How my own parents had forgotten me. Because I was forgettable.
When my mom finally realized I was still in bed and came in to get me I was crying, accusing “You forgot me!” Never mind the fact that I had practically dared her to do it, that by asking her to add this completely unnecessary chore to her routine every morning I was setting myself up for failure.
And now the things my friends do that upset me the most tap back into that same place. When they leave the bar before I get there, or offhandedly badmouth something I’m really proud of, or don’t do something for me after they insist that they will, I want to crawl back into bed and make them follow me pleading as I screlt “You forgot me!” at them over and over, like it’s the greatest sin they could commit.
Now that I admitted that can it go away?