Confessions Of A Reluctant Wallflower
A recent move in the midst of a global pandemic has relocated me nearly 1,000 miles from my school – from my advisor, my fellow students, and the academic community I grew to love so dearly. It’s easy to feel alone working on a graduate degree as it is – but even more so when separated from the geographic community one might have had.
One of the joys of pre-pandemic life was the opportunity to gather with my advisor and my fellow students to discuss a book from our comps reading list. We would usually gather over lunch, spend an hour catching up on one another’s lives before diving into discussion of the book for the second hour. We would share our successes and joys, our pains and struggles. We would pray for one another. Oh, to have the gift of those times back.
And yet, in a digital age forced by the coronavirus to respond with myriad options for online education, 1,000 miles of distance is a mere logistical hurdle. Our meetings had not come to a halt with the onset of the pandemic; we merely shifted to video calls. This allowed my little group the consolations that all of us have received from technology — whether because of lockdown, illness, or merely out of safety, comfort, or convenience — of being able to “meet” when we couldn’t meet.
Enter a cross-country move. And a loosening of strictures. While my fellow students began to meet in person once again, I was no longer in the same vicinity. Thankfully, we have the technological capabilities to include me, but I’ve effectively been made a wallflower.
“I literally feel like a fly on the wall, merely watching the goings-on of a gathering I so long to be a greater part of.”
Not only do I feel like a wallflower — not present in the room to hear the soft pre-gathering conversations, unable to see the nuances of facial expressions, not necessarily catching every word spoken — but my computer screen even shows me that I am a wallflower. The rest of the group positioned around a table, due to the location of the video camera, I literally feel like a fly on the wall, merely watching the goings-on of a gathering I so long to be a greater part of.
The stings of pain I feel amidst these experiences are not unfamiliar. While I might not refer to myself as shy (though I am introverted, I don’t mind being the center of attention), my sense of my own likeability has caused me to doubt my “popularity” with others. All my life, I have felt that I am worthy of love, belonging, and friendship, but simultaneously have hung out on the margins, wondering what people really think.
“We all ache for love and belonging — we’re wired for it.”
Haven’t we all been there? We all ache for love and belonging — we’re wired for it. And yet, we all seem to have a tendency to feel ourselves unloveable, or at least, to wonder if we really and truly are loveable in the ways we hope we are. And so we become either physical or emotional wallflowers — on the outside looking in.
Some of us may be quite comfortable in the position of a wallflower. Bringing a beautiful and calming presence without “making a splash” — to be honest, we need more people like that in the world. Thus, I’m not saying that I think being a wallflower is a bad thing. What I am saying is the part of my experience of being thrust into becoming a wallflower has been to feel left out. Not to belong. To ache. To yearn. Do other wallflowers feel this way, too? I had not realized that my own experiences of pain in this way could open my eyes to begin noticing others with understanding, with empathy.
“I had not realized that my own experiences of pain in this way could open my eyes to begin noticing others with understanding, with empathy.”
I, who know what it feels like to be (or at least feel) excluded, have the opportunity to look around me for those who might be feeling similarly. While natural wallflowers may enjoy aspects of being on the fringes — of perceiving and processing without drawing much attention themselves — there are likely unspoken pain points there, too. They may feel unseen, unnoticed, unloved at times. Maybe they don’t want to be called out in a group setting, but they may love being encouraged by a comment or honored by a thoughtful question asked one on one.
In a culture that values the loud and showy, it can be all too easy for wallflowers to be overlooked. Perhaps when I hop back onto video calls to join my fellow students, my own struggles can remind me to keep an eye out for those on the fringes throughout my weekly interactions. As a reluctant wallflower, I know how it feels to experience the difficult aspects of being on the outside looking in. I can imagine myself in others’ shows, and remember the yearning and longing that I feel in such situations. Everyone wants to belong. Perhaps through my pain I can see and love others better as a result.
May that be true for us all, natural and reluctant wallflowers alike.
